Page 120 of Within These County Lines

“I’m ready now,” I say, cupping his cheeks.

He exhales. “You still haven’t said—”

Before he can finish, I kiss him.

A rush of sweetness floods my mouth like biting into a Starburst. At first, he’s stiff, then he melts into me. He grabs my neck and kisses me back, forcefully, with pressure, like he’s thought about this for ten years.

The campers applaud and whistle.

“Is this a theatre camp?” one girl asks. “Because I love this show.”

“Right?” a boy echoes. “The special effects are slaying. Where did the other guy and girl appear from?”

“God, I’m jealous,” another boy groans. “I thought this camp was supposed to make me feel better about myself.”

We separate, laughing.

“You are late,” Xander says.

“And you are right on time,” I say.

“Maybe that’s by design.” He looks to the tree.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” I say.

Xander presses his forehead to mine. “Stetson, I’ve waited my whole life,” he says. “I’d give up another decade just for one more day with you.”

He turns. His face flushes as the dozens of campers stare directly at him. “I can’t believe it.” He pats his chest, testing his new reality. “I get to start over.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You get a second chance to keep going.”

Dara clears her throat. “I didn’t know I was third wheeling this whole time,” she says, brushing leaves from her arms.

I smile. “We kind of just figured it out ourselves,” I say.

“Speak for yourself,” Xander says. “I knew the day I saw you.”

I gasp.

“Who did you write?” I ask Dara.

She exhales. “Ra-Ra.” Her heels bounce. “I gave that girl too hard of a time when I was younger. Learned to love her over the years.”

My gaze drifts upward and gets lost in the Ardor Tree’s vast crown. Its leaves glow in the sunlight, translucent and trembling like thousands of tiny, beating hearts. Thick branches stretch wide, their shadows cast like protective arms over every couple.

Maybe it is a good matchmaker after all.

For the first time, I notice just how high the trunk reaches. It towers above every tree in the forest, rising above the rest of Penango.

I’ve spent too long looking down, trying to cover dust from broken hearts and tear out my roots. That’s how I thought I’d escape.

But now I realize all I had to do was stand on them and lift my head.

The names covering the bark blur together. There’s too many to count. I no longer see them as ghosts of the past or couples to envy. They morph into an ascending map—every couple, or individual, a guide along the journey—not to what has been, but to everything that still could be.

49

Later, Xander walks out of the pharmacy with two tote bags stuffed with candy.