Not because everything is magically fixed, but because I’m not fighting the shape of my life anymore. It’s just expanded now that my heart opened up to Holden.
On the last evening before we head home, Hattie talks us into walking down to the lake one more time before sunset.
The trail’s familiar beneath my shoes now, worn smooth from years of family trips. Holden walks close enough that our shoulders bump every few steps, fingers brushing occasionally like he can’t help himself.
I don’t mind.
Hattie races ahead of us with entirely too much energy, stopping every few feet to kick pinecones or investigate random plants, reminding me so much of when we were younger.
“You know,” Holden says, “she’s gonna crash the second we get back.”
“Just her? I know you will too,” I tease.
He grins immediately. “Oh, I have no doubt. I even took Tuesday off just to recover.”
“Me too.”
We glance at each other, as if imagining a full day in bed together. Alone. My cheeks heat.
The lake comes into view through the trees, evening light turning the water gold and orange. Hattie darts ahead toward the shoreline while Holden and I slow near the edge of the woods.
And then I see it.
“Oh my god,” I laugh softly. “Holden, look.”
“What?”
I point toward one of the trees near the trail. “Come here.”
He steps closer, frowning slightly while I brush my fingers over the carving in the bark.
H & M.
The edges are worn now, softened by years of weather and time.
Holden stares at it for a second before barking out a surprised laugh. “Holy shit. I remember that.”
“We were little.”
“Twelve maybe?”
“Or maybe thirteen.” I grin helplessly. “Wow, that’s embarrassing.”
“No, it’s not.”
I smile at him. Always so damn certain.
I trace the letters lightly, memory tugging at me in flashes. Summer dirt on my knees. Warm soda. Holden daring me to climb higher into the tree than him. Both of us swearing we’d still camp together when we were old and gross.
“We promised we’d always be best friends,” I say quietly.
Holden goes softer beside me. “Just like our parents.”
I’m suddenly shy about how much that memory means to me now. I flatten a hand on my chest.
For a second, neither of us says anything. Then Holden reaches into his pocket, pulling something out. The glint of metal catches my eye.
“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously.
