Page 76 of In Your Wake

“Then why’d you agree to it?”

She shrugs. “I needed to get out of town. Away from… things.” She glances at her phone clutched in her hand.

“That’s something I miss about living here. Didn’t have many chances to go camping in the city.”

“Same. I haven’t been camping in ages.”

“No way. You used to be Miss-Camps-a-Lot. Figured you’d be in the woods every weekend.”

“Well, I’ve been a little busy.”

“How long’s it been?”

There’s a heavy pause while she glances out her window. “A while.”

That weak, low tone in her voice tells me exactly when the last time was and I clutch the steering wheel harder, biting the inside of my cheek. The strain between us thickens, the silence expands, but I let it.

Neither of us has been camping since that summer. The thought terrifies me, only because we’re about to spend twenty-four hours together, secluded in the one spot where things between us changed. The heaviness of what we’re heading into hits me like a freight train.

This is more than friends hanging out for the weekend. Max and I are being thrown full-force into a past we’ve spent years trying to erase.

The campsite is about a twenty-minute drive deep into the woods. I steer up the twisty mountain road, following Hunter’s shoddy directions and finally pull into the clearing.

A sense of déjà vu hits me, but I aim all my focus on how excited Hunter is when he hops out and shows Celia the spot where we spent so many hours as teenagers. Nearby, Spencer and Bethany emerge from their tent, looking—big surprise—disheveled and flushed.

The exaggerated exhale I hear from Max’s side saddens me. She may deny it, but something is definitely bugging her.

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

She turns to look at me, her face stoic. “Are you sure you’re not just looking for some drama?” The faint smile on her lips makes me think not all is lost between us and that trying to help her out won’t be hopeless.

“Listen, I get it. I have a lot on my mind, too, but whatever’s bugging you, try to forget it, if only until tomorrow. This trip is about us having fun and letting go of everything. All of it,” I add, reaching over and placing a hand on her fidgeting thigh. “For a few days, why don’t we forget why life sucks, okay?”

She glares at my hand, but doesn’t recoil from my touch. “You know what’s weird? For some odd reason…” As if her words are mud rolling around in her mouth, she pauses, then pulls her gaze up to mine. That smile she’s fighting finally cracks through. “I’m sort of happy we came out here.”

Before I get the chance to ask if she means everyone, or specifically me and her, she’s out of the car. I stay in my seat for a minute longer, getting used to this feeling. It’s as if she’s opened a window into a world we destroyed because we were stupid kids too blind to see what we had.

Trying to absorb it all, I realize this might be the chance we’ve always needed. This weekend might be when we finally kiss and make up, so to speak. Like a vivid daydream, the idea of kissing her pops into my head, and I rub a hand over my smile.

It’s only once I’m out of the car, helping to unload the trunk, and take a deep inhale of fresh, mountain air, that I notice the pressure from the last few days has lifted.

Max

I leave the safe bubble of Mitch’s car and walk toward the area that seems to be designated as the kitchen. Three coolers sit under a small wooden picnic table covered with enough snacks to feed a small country.

“Hey, Bee,” I say, dropping my bags. “You sure you brought enough food?”

“Max!” She pulls me into her arms in one of her bear-hugs she’s so good at. I giggle when she squeezes me tight.

Ever since she moved back to Oakwhite from England, we try to see each other as much as possible, but she’s been super busy lately, either with her job at the Oakwhite Observer or with Spencer remodeling their new house. It’ll be nice to spend some time with her this weekend, if she’s willing to pry herself away from her boyfriend’s lips, that is.

I hand her a late birthday gift—a silly jar filled with positive affirmation cards.

She reads the label with a smile. “Positive Pickle, dill-ightful affirmations?” Her sultry laugh instantly cheers me up, and she drags me into another hug. “Thank you! I love it.” She glances over my shoulder. “Oh my god! Where’s Mitch’s beard?”

“It’s gone.”

“I see that. Where did it go?”