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“No,” I say, baffled. “You? Had a crush on me?”
June starts giggling. She’s not a giggler, normally, so it must be the whiskey.
“Yeah,” she says, like she can’t believe I didn’t know. “For years and years and years. Since I was like…”
She glances away, like she’s trying to remember.
“Well, definitely by the time I was in middle school,” she says.
Her blush is deepening, and I’m searching my memory banks for anything to shed light on this revelation, coming up empty.
“I had no idea,” I admit.
“I think that’s for the best,” she says, and she’s still laughing. “What good ever comes of a sixteen-year-old noticing a thirteen-year-old’s crush? At best it’s awkward, and at worst it’s… weird.”
“Well, weird was my thing in high school,” I say. “Which I guess you noticed.”
June goes silent for a moment.
“I didn’t think you were weird,” she admits, suddenly quiet. “I thought you were fascinating. I’d never met anyone like you.”
I’m quiet, trying to dredge up high school memories I’d long ago pushed to the back of my memory. June is there in some of them, but only ever as Silas’s kid sister.
I had no idea how she’d turn out.
“I’ve still never met anyone else like you,” she says. “And I’ve met way more people now.”
“Thanks, I think,” I tease.
“It was a compliment,” she says, snuggling harder against me, taking the flask. “And I’m glad that you never noticed, because believe it or not, Silas has actually chilled out about my dating life since then.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” I say dryly. “Brett’s still alive.”
She takes one more swig, shakes her head, closes the flask.
“That’s actually pretty good,” she says. “I’d never have guessed it was from your bathtub.”
“My mother’s back yard, thanks,” I say. I take one more sip, then put the flask down, still half-full.
“You’re not afraid of him, are you?” June asks. “There’s no way he’d hurt you.”
I uncross my legs at the ankles, cross them with the other one on top, the soles of my hiking boots facing the fire. It needs more wood, but I don’t want to get up right now: this is heady and perfect, just June and me alone in the wilderness, a sort of perfection I’d never imagined existed up until now.
“I’m not afraid of Silas,” I say, slowly. “I’m afraid of losing his friendship.”
You will leave, I think, unbidden.
You’ll leave and then I won’t have either of you.
“I get it,” she says, softly. “You guys are close.”
“Did he ever tell you what happened to Jake Echols?” I ask suddenly.
June’s quiet for a second, like she’s trying to remember the name.
“The guy I dated in high school who disappeared one day and it turned out he’d joined the Army without telling anyone?” she asks, then looks over at me. “Something happened to him?”
“Remember the time that Silas drove his truck off the road and into a creek for no reason at all?” I ask.
June’s eyes narrow, and I can see her trying to connect the dots.
“Yes?” she says.
Then her eyes go wide, and she pales.
“Is Jake dead?” she whispers. “He never joined the Army, did he, that was—”
“Whoa, whoa,” I say, holding up a hand. “He’s alive as far as I know. But he’s the reason that Silas crashed his truck into the creek that time. Jake was in the car, and they started throwing punches because Silas found out he’d cheated on you.”
June’s mouth drops open. She turns to stare at the fire for a moment, then looks back at me.
“Dammit,” she says. “That bastard.”
“Silas never told you?”
“No, he never told me and now I’m going to kill him,” she says. “Who the fuck does that? Why didn’t he just tell me so I could break up with him? Did he think I wouldn’t? I totally would’ve.”
There’s another pause.
“I never even spoke to him again. Technically, we never broke up,” she muses, mostly to herself. “I guess we’re still dating. You like being my side piece?”
“There are worse fates,” I deadpan.
“Dammit, Silas,” she mutters to herself.Chapter Twenty-ThreeJuneLevi and I spend another day and a night in the forest, alone together. For over forty-eight hours, I don’t see another human being besides him.
We eat backpacking food next to a fire. We sleep in a tiny, two-person tent that’s smaller than his bed, and we spend most of the days walking and talking to each other.
The second night we finish the whiskey and start kissing, and then we have sex in the tiny tent, even though it’s cold out, and we’re tangled and half-sandwiched between sleeping bags and the fading firelight is playing over the outside of the tent and I come within a single breath of telling Levi I love him, but then I don’t.
It’s as perfect a weekend as I’ve ever spent. By the end I’m sore in muscles I didn’t know I had, my shoulders ache, I’ve got blisters the size of Texas and I really, really need a shower, but it’s perfect.
