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8
AVERY
Kaleb and I get all the kids into their cabins without argument, despite us making the poor decision to hop them up on sugar an hour before we’re expecting them to climb into bed. Even Bradley—who has been notorious the past week for bouncing around between bunks in his, Colton, and Max’s cabin—doesn’t fight us on it.
Guess that’s what happens after a long day in the sun followed by staying up late around the campfire. No sugar rush can fight that level of exhaustion.
After I’m done checking the cabins to the left of the trail, I turn to find Kaleb. I can make out his silhouette heading toward me as he finishes checking on the cabins to the right.
“All good?” he asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his bomber.
He’s looked good all night—plaid flannel and camp tee beneath the caramel colored leather. A pair of dark washed jeans hug his legs in a way that makes it seem like they were made for him, and after ten days out here, his stubble has grown out into something of a short beard.
All things still noticeable in the moonlight cutting through the trees.
All these things I hate myself for noticing.
“Yeah,” I say a little too stiffly, trying to ignore my rolling stomach. “We’re all good.”
“Great.” He pauses, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go double check the fire, but you can head off to bed.”
My brows crash together in confusion. “We flooded the pit with enough water to drown a fish before taking the kids to their cabins,” I remind him.
He blinks a couple times and shakes his head. “Well, I still gotta clean up around the pit. Get the food back in the lodge.”
Not bothering to wait for a response, he starts back toward the pit. And that’s when I realize he’s looking for any excuse to get away from me. For whatever reason, I can’t let it happen, though. Can’t stand the thought of him walking away and…fuck, I don’t know.
After the shit just aired at the fire, I don’t know fucking anything.
Which is why I close the distance between us before falling in step beside him. “I can help you. I don’t mind.”
“You really don’t have to.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “But isn’t it kind of my job?”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking. If possible, at an even quicker pace. But he can’t outrun me, similar to how I can’t outrun all the thoughts and questions racing through my brain, thanks to his candor with the kids.
And it’s those thoughts which cause me to break through the stagnant silence floating between us.
“You did good with them tonight.” When he glances up at me, I add, “With the kids, I mean.”
“I certainly hope so. It’s kind of my job.”
The clear echoing of my statement from a moment ago isn’t lost on me, and while his poking fun like that would normally set my blood to boil, instead it forces an awkward laugh out of me.
“No, I just mean…like how you handled everything.”
There’s no hint of understanding on his face before he turns away again, and it frustrates me to hell. I don’t know if he’s pretending to be dense or if I’m really not being clear about what I’m trying to say.
Hell, I’m not even sure I know what I’m trying to get at. Or where I’m hoping this conversation will go. I just know there are so many things I want to ask and know, and I have no idea how to verbalize them without sounding like a complete idiot.
“You know, with the whole…being gay thing.”
God, could I be any more of a fucking imbecile?
The look on his face tells me he’s thinking the exact same thing. It also tells me this is not a conversation he wants to be having right now, especially if the way his lips curve down are anything to go off.
“Yeah,” is all he says, a rough gravel to his tone now before he looks over at me. “Is it going to be a problem?”
