“Oh my God,” she wheezes. “You’re so emotionally shitfaced you broke a tent.”
Despite everything, a laugh punches out of me too.
“Fan-fucking-tastic.”
I look back across the yard, hoping my dad still has some tents available. If not, I’m sure there’s a roll of good ol’ duct tape somewhere.
Hattie squeezes my shoulder. “Whatever it is, they love you. You’ll fix it.”
She has no idea how much those words cut me open. I can’t even breathe.
Somehow, I nod and push myself to my feet. “I’ll get something to fix this.”
The longer the night goes on, though, the worse I get. Not visibly, anyway. No one seems to be looking at me funny, but I’ve made a real effort to avoid talking to anyone.
I help unload coolers. Get the fire going. Argue with Ezra over music choices.
But underneath all of it, tension coils tighter every hour Korie doesn’t show. Every pair of headlights on the highway gets my attention immediately. Every buzz from my phone makes my pulse jump.
Hattie’s words never leave me.They love you.
It’s all I can cling to with every hour that passes.
Because I love them too. I love Korie so much I stopped noticing where I ended and they began. And now I don’t know how to pull back without feeling like I’m losing something vital.
“Has anyone heard from Korie?” Maris asks just after sunset.
Everynosends panic spiking sharper through me. My fingers curl around the bracelet instinctively when all eyes turn to me, like of course I would have all the answers.
I shake my head, staring into the embers. A hollow ache fills my chest.
Please come back to me, Kor.
25
KORIE
The highway is a nightmare. Brake lights stretch endlessly ahead of me, glowing red beneath the darkening sky while my car crawls forward at the speed of a dying turtle. I grip the steering wheel harder as the traffic slows again.
“Oh, come on,” I groan.
I should’ve left hours ago. I know that. Instead, I spent all afternoon finding excuses to stay home longer. One more bag to pack. One more thing to clean. One more stupid task that suddenly felt critically important.
Anything to delay…this.
It’s not that I don’t want to see Holden.
It’s that I’m dying to.
My entire body aches to see him. I just… don’t want to do it where everyone can watch. Because it might not go how I want it to.
I want to cry every time I remember the way he looked at me in my living room when I asked for space. I’ve never hurt Holden more than I did that night.
I tried calling him last night.
Actually, no. That’s a lie.
I stared at his contact for ten full minutes with my thumb hovering over the button before chickening out and throwing my phone across the couch instead. Every time I think I know what I’m going to say, all I can hear is his voice in that broken tone.
