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And I thought Cassia seeing me with other girls in high school would take care of any feelings she had for me. She wasn’t supposed to still want me after the fact.
“I can’t change the past, Cassia.” I blow out a long breath. “Grace means nothing to me. None of them did.”
Things I’ve told her before.
Truths that didn’t sink in.
Not like Brooks did. I saw her face earlier when he said he’d only been with one girl. When the other guys were teasing him about it. It meant something to her that they have that in common, and it’s something I can never share with her.
I didn’t cheat.
I didn’t do it to hurt her.
But my past is there between us, and if it hasn’t faded by now, I’m not sure if it ever will.
I look over, tracing the lump of her body lying a few feet away. It feels like she’s a lot farther.
“I’m not a cheater, Cassia. I’mcommitted.”
No response.
I don’t make another sound. I pretend to fall asleep, the same way she is.
CHAPTERSEVEN
CASSIA
My eyes open to an empty tent. My mouth is dry, and my temples are pounding. I have one hell of a hangover.
I stare at Holden’s empty sleeping bag for several minutes, my heart aching worse than my head.
Bits and pieces of our conversation from last night burrow into my brain, making me wince. I said more than I meant to last night. Some of it needed to be spoken. Some I wish had stayed thoughts.
With a sigh, I slide out of my own bed. I’m not sure how early it is. There’s no sound of activity outside and my phone is dead, thanks to the lack of outlets.
I get dressed in shorts and a clean t-shirt, then grab my toiletry bag. The tent’s zipper snags a couple of times as I open it, the flaps waving in the slight breeze.
The campsite is empty. All the other tents are still zipped shut, the center of the fire pit a pile of black ashes.
I’m relieved—and proud—when I successfully navigate to the bathrooms on my own. The trip is much easier in the daylight, sunshine exposing all the dips and valleys and crags in the path. It must be early because there’s no sign of any activity on the trail or in the bathrooms.
I run through the same routine as last night, except this time I slather some sunscreen and concealer on my face after washing it.
After a split-second of deliberation, I apply mascara and lip gloss as well. I’m not sure if it’s a good or a bad inclination, how I still feel the urge to look my best in front of Holden.
When I get back to the campsite, Brooks is standing by the table that serves as the “kitchen”, stirring the contents of a cup. He glances up and catches my eye, giving me no polite choice except to walk over to him.
“Morning.”
“Good morning,” I reply.
“Coffee?” He tilts his head toward a glass canister. “It’s instant, but not terrible.”
“Um, yeah. Sure.” I help myself to a plastic cup, reading the instructions on the coffee canister before measuring out a spoonful and adding bottled water. It tastes like crap and is lukewarm, but it’s better than nothing.
We sip in silence as I wonder where the hell Holden went. There’s no sign of anyone else being up yet. His truck is still here so he couldn’t have gone that far.
“So…your complicated relationship.”
