Never Let You Go (15 page)

Megan strained her eyes, hoping to see the top, but the darkness was complete now, and all she could see were the beams of several flashlights.

“Not much farther,” Dave called back through the line.

Not long after, they emerged from the woods at the ridge’s
peak to find a clearing with a large charred spot ringed with stones. Larger rocks and a few big logs formed the seats around the campfire area. There was a general sigh of relief as everyone put down their various parcels. Robert and Jordan thumped their load of firewood to the ground, and Jordan knelt to undo the bindings. Dave propped his mandolin against a rock and immediately started scraping dirt and random leaves away from the fire circle, while Sarah started taking the cookies and a big bag of marshmallows from her sack.

“This is awesome!” Robert declared, surveying the scene. His voice was loud but oddly flat in the night air. Megan agreed silently. The darkness was a little thinner up here, now that they were out of the dense woods. The night breeze fluttered by her face, smelling of damp leaves and quiet, secret places.

Jordan looked up from untying the wood and caught her eye. He smiled at her and she smiled back, suddenly overcome by the memory of his face so close to hers this afternoon. Furtively, she glanced at Anna, who was kneeling, picking something out of her shoe. She hadn’t seen them. Megan felt a brief flash of relief.

“Hey, guys. Find some kindling, okay?” Dave said.

Everyone scattered to pick up sticks. Megan wandered off to a nearby pine tree and aimed her flashlight at the ground, then set it down. She knelt and started swiping together handfuls of dry pine needles. Those seemed good for starting a fire. She shuffled a few feet farther to reach for more. The others were on the opposite side of the fire ring, their voices faint. The only sound, besides her breath in her ears, was the crackle of needles beneath her knees.
Megan slowly scraped together a big pile, thinking of the way Jordan’s eyes flashed so blue in the sun. Just like glacier ice.

Something grabbed her ankle. Megan shrieked and her hand jerked, scattering her pile.

“Hah! Gotcha!” Anna chortled.

Megan took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. Her knees ached with the adrenaline that had shot through her system.

“You really freaked me out,” she said. “I didn’t even hear you.” She paused. “What were you doing sneaking up on me?”

Anna grinned. “I was finding wood. Duh.” Her hands were empty.

Megan swallowed. “Oh.” Something about Anna’s tone was off, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Anna bent down and swiped up a twig. “Here, got some.”

Back behind them, flames flared orange in the darkness. “Looks like they got the fire going without us,” Megan said uneasily.

“Yeah, come on.”

They walked back together and Anna took Megan’s hand, swinging it as if they were girls on the playground again.

The fire glowed like a friendly beacon as Megan lowered herself onto a log. The flames in the center sent up showers of spark as they burned through sap in the twigs. She thought back to the summers she went to Camp Kern. They’d had a campfire every night, and ever since then, the smell of woodsmoke always drew up feelings of melancholy.

Strumming his guitar thoughtfully, Isaac was sunken into the shadows on the far side of the fire. He looked every inch
the brooding musician. Nearby, Anna pressed close to Jordan’s side, the length of her thigh against his. She studiously ignored Robert, who had seated himself on a rock beside her and was sending her wistful glances. Instead, she picked up Jordan’s hand, entwining it with hers.

Megan swallowed and looked at her hands, which were grubby with dirt, then at the ground.
She
wanted to be the one sitting beside Jordan, holding his hand in a casual, proprietary way. Megan felt her stomach twist miserably.

Dave plucked at his mandolin, starting a folk song. After a few practice chords, Isaac joined in. Dave sang the lyrics in a surprisingly beautiful baritone. The song was about a bird-woman who drank from a mountain stream. Robert and Sarah sang the chorus, their voices blending with the pop and snap of the fire and the whispering rush of the wind through the treetops.

Sarah passed her the cookies. Megan shook her head. She didn’t think she could eat anything with her stomach in knots.

“It’s fun, isn’t it, all of us hanging out?” Sarah asked kindly. She must have sensed Megan’s misery.

Megan made herself nod. “Oh, definitely!” Her voice sounded false even to herself.

The cookies made a second round, and the marshmallows were about halfway gone. The fire had died to a low glow, and Dave reached back to throw another branch on. He came up with his hands empty.

“We’re all out of wood,” he said. “Let’s get a few more branches, and we can hang out a little longer.”

Everyone rose, a little stiffly, reluctant to leave the fading warmth. The night air had cooled since they sat down, and the dropping temperature was more pronounced as Megan wandered away from the fire. Her sneakers made no noise on the dry leaves. Quickly, she lost sight of the others as they scattered. Her flashlight was lying by her seat on the log, but it seemed too much trouble to go back for it.

Anna was nowhere to be seen. Megan assumed she’d followed Jordan. Good. At least she wasn’t going to get pranked again. Someone crunched only a few feet away, but so hidden by the shadows she couldn’t tell who it was. Idly, she bent down to retrieve a stick that was about the right size when suddenly, arms circled her waist, dragging her behind a thick tree trunk. Megan gasped, about to cry out, until she caught the whiff of cedar soap and realized it was Jordan.

He didn’t speak, just turned her around and pulled her against him. He bent his head, pressing his mouth to hers. His lips were hot and smooth, and Megan leaned into him, still trying to catch her breath. He kissed her, and she kissed him back, thinking about nothing but the sensation of his arms around her body, his mouth on hers again and again. Then someone passed by in the dark—so close that Megan could almost reach out and touch her sleeve. It was Anna.

“Dave, there’s a big branch over here,” she called.

Instantly, they broke apart. Megan struggled to control her breathing. She looked up into Jordan’s face, which was almost all
shadow. A blossom of delight unfurled in her chest, sending delicious tendrils shooting to her fingers and toes. She knew he was feeling the same intensity she was—the kiss left no doubt. At the same time, Megan knew, without a doubt, that she had finally plummeted over the cliff she’d been edging toward since that first day in the kitchen.

CHAPTER 9

Megan stared sightlessly at the pages of the Somerset Maugham novel, which she held in front of her face like a shield. All she could think about was Jordan. His hands seemed to have seared Megan’s flesh everywhere he had touched—her waist, her arms, the back of her neck. Her lips still burned.

“I think I really connected with Jordan tonight,” Anna said from across the room.

Megan’s fingers tightened on her book. “Hmm?” She peeked over the edge of the pages.

Anna was sitting on her bed, one leg drawn up under her chin as she carefully painted her toenails teal. Anna dipped the brush into the little bottle. “Well, for one thing, did you see him holding my hand?”

Megan thought of Anna caressing Jordan’s fingers. “Sort of . . . ,” she said slowly. She turned a page, keeping her face hidden, thinking
of the Kafka story she’d read where the prisoner is punished by having a machine write the name of his crime on his skin, over and over again. She shuddered and resisted the urge to twist to look at Jordan in the farmhand photo, which she’d pinned over her bed.

“It was so good,” Anna went on. “And he was, like, rubbing up against my thigh the whole time we were sitting there. I mean, it was getting embarrassing!” Her face was shining, and Megan could see that she didn’t think it was embarrassing at all. Anna just liked saying that it was.

Swallowing hard, Megan sat up suddenly and grabbed her towel from the hook by the door. “I’m going to wash up.” She clattered down the stairs without looking back.

Outside, the humid air seemed to press in on her, like a wet cloth draped over her face. Megan turned the faucet and watched the water swirl into the drain. The sulfur smell was strong in her nostrils.

“What’s that?” Anna’s voice came from behind her.

Megan jumped, and whirled around, clutching the narrow edge of the sink behind her. “What?” she fairly gasped.

“That.” Anna swooped down to pick up a piece of folded paper lying on the ground.

“Oh, it’s mine.” Megan snatched it up first. “My training notes for Sweetie.” The words seemed to fly from her mouth unbidden. She slid the paper into the pocket of her shorts. It must have fallen out, though she hadn’t put it there. It had to be from Jordan. Megan felt alert like a rabbit, her eyes wide, trying to look in every direction at one time.

Anna draped her own towel over a nail and ran some water from the other faucet. “You look weird,” she said, squeezing toothpaste onto her brush.

Megan buried her face in soapy lather. “I—I do feel a little sick.” That wasn’t a lie, at least. “Too many marshmallows.”

Anna stuck her toothbrush in her mouth.

Megan rinsed her face fast and headed toward the cabin.

“Aren’t you going to brush your teeth?” Anna called after her.

“I already did,” Megan lied.

Inside, she quickly unfolded the note. Tilting the paper toward the dim lantern light, she read,

Megan—I can’t stop thinking about you. This afternoon by the truck was amazing. I wanted to kiss you then but I didn’t, for reasons we both know. I hope you’re not mad about tonight. We have to talk. J.

Megan’s cheeks were flaming. Jordan must have slipped it into her pocket just after he kissed her.

Outside, the water shut off.
Fast, fast, get rid of it fast,
Megan thought. Then there were footsteps up the stairs. She looked around the cabin wildly. Footsteps across the porch. Megan reached over the edge of the bed and shoved the note under the mattress. Then, in one movement, she flopped over on her back and raised her book in front of her face. The screen door opened.

Megan stared at the yellowed page, trying not to breathe too
loudly. Anna didn’t speak. Then Megan heard her cross the room and the bed creak as she sat down. “You know, Meg,” she said. “This is shaping up to be the best summer of my life.”

The barn was cool in the early morning, and the only sound was the horses’ peaceful munching of grain and hay. Megan rested her arms on the door of Rosie’s stall, watching her eat while Sweetie nursed. She had lain awake, sweating under the sheet until the insect sounds had faded and the first birds sang from the trees. Then she had slipped out the door while Anna slept on.

Her head throbbed. Her eyes felt grainy, and she knew there were circles under them. She closed her eyes, and the sensation of Jordan’s lips on hers, the scratch of his beard against her cheek, rushed at her. She gripped the edge of the stall door but forced her fingers to relax.

To distance herself, she dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone, thumbing through the missed calls. Her mother had tried to reach her three times yesterday, and Megan suspected that if she didn’t call her back, the police would be showing up at Given Farm. Thomas probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

Megan hit her home number and listened to the phone ring.

“Meg?” Her mother answered on the second ring. “Hi, honey!”

“Hi, Mom.” Megan made sure her voice was both casual and happy. No indication of weird Anna vibes, no indication of kissing beautiful guys in the dark. No turmoil of anxiety, exhilaration, and misery. Just happy, upbeat, well-adjusted Megan.

“How do you like the farm?” Her mother asked eagerly.

Megan heard a rumbling voice in the background—her father, asking how she was.

“Oh, it’s great!” Megan said. “Anna and I have a cabin to ourselves, and I get to train this new little foal.” Sweetie was a safe subject.

Rosie finished her grain and ambled forward a few steps. Megan rubbed her nose, and then Sweetie pushed his way over.

“Sweetie’s right here,” Megan told her mother. “Here, he wants to say hi.” She held the phone up to Sweetie’s nose, and he snuffled at the screen with interest.

“Did you hear him?” Megan held the phone back to her own ear.

“Yes, he sounds lovely. Is Anna enjoying the farm too?” her mother asked.

Megan thought of Anna shredding her dress that first night. Razoring Jordan’s T-shirt. Standing in the abandoned barn, holding the rusty metal claw. “I think she’s really happy. She’s met a guy.” That wasn’t a lie at least.
Though if Anna knew what her supposed best friend was doing, she wouldn’t be happy for very long.

“Oh, that’s wonderful. She hasn’t gone out with anyone since Mike, right?”

The pressure was growing more intense. Megan knew if she stayed on the phone much longer, she would blurt it all out, the whole tangled story. “Mom, I have to go,” she said hurriedly. “Sweetie’s . . . Sweetie’s trying to eat the phone. I’ll call you later, okay?”