Sun Kissed (Camp Boyfriend) (28 page)

And all the while, we kissed. There was no sense of who kissed whom. This was a mutual melting together. A flaming heat from sparks that we must have both been feeling.

I wanted to leap into his arms with a bear hug.

Finally. Finally.

The words whispered through my consciousness as he trailed kisses down my cheek. My neck.

“Seth.” I wanted more. I could have kissed him until the sun set and came back up. I’d been waiting so long for this that I deserved to kiss him for days on end. But I cared about him too much to let things get out of control. “I don’t want you to get caught in here. Dinner will be over soon.”

He straightened. Stared down at me and— thank God— did not suggest we’d just made a mistake. Instead, he tipped his forehead to mine and closed his eyes.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about that.” He didn’t sound happy about it, exactly. Still…the fact that he’d wanted to kiss me had to be good, right?

I wished I was brave enough to ask.

But I wanted to squeeze the moment tight and enjoy it.

Unfortunately, the scent of smoke distracted me. Lifting my head, I peered around the arts center.

“Seth?” I tripped over to the doorway to look out into the main building. “Do you smell something burning?”

He followed me for a second before shoving open one of the blinds on a nearby window that looked out over Rockbrooke falls.

A high funnel of smoke lifted from deep within the trees, the gray trail pointing like an arrow to the source of the smell.

The gazebo was on fire.

Chapter Ten

Seth

Camp was pandemonium. Kids poured out of activities buildings and cabins while counselors raced to their emergency drill positions to hold them back from the fire. Gollum darted everywhere, his cell phone to one ear, his whistle clutched tight.

I sprinted for Rockbrooke Falls, toward the gazebo, my breath coming hard.
No no no no…
it couldn’t be on fire. But the sweltering, acrid glade said otherwise.

Trinity and I made it a couple of yards past the tree-line before we spotted a massive red-orange flame lashing at the sky, crisping all the trees around it. I covered my mouth, and Trinity made a choking sound that had me wrapping an arm around her and marching her back to the field.

“Stay here,” I ordered when I’d gotten her a safe distance away. “Better yet, go back to your cabin. I’ll find you later.”

She shook her head, dreadlocks swishing across her shoulders. A few ashes covered her arm and made me realize how close we’d gotten to the fire.

“Uh-uh. I’m not leaving you. Or the gazebo. I want to help,” her voice cracked on a cough.

I bit back a sigh, wishing we’d run past a counselor so that one of them could have held her back. “You can help by letting me focus on this and not worrying about you. Okay?”

Without waiting for her answer, I plunged into the dark forest, the wisps of smoke curling around my face and stinging my eyes. I stumbled over a log when I couldn’t see my feet and shoved my hands ahead of me in case I ran into a tree. I retraced the path I’d taken these past few weeks blind. Nothing but the ominous, crackling
swoosh
of flames guiding me as I neared.

I pulled my T-shirt over my mouth and nose and pushed on, not stopping no matter how hard my lungs struggled to work. I had to see this—know for myself that all of my hard work, the hours of planning and worrying, was disappearing as easily as a struck match. My grandfather would be devastated.

At last I reached the clearing and froze at the furious fire writhing in front of me. The gazebo resembled a giant torch, flames shooting skyward, as it belched out thick clouds of smoke beneath a ruthless sun.

How could this have happened?

A gasp sounded beside me, and I whirled, shocked to see Trinity beside me again. She swayed on her feet, her face pale, eyes wide and tearing.

I grabbed her arms to keep her from falling. “What are you doing here?”

The heat burned up the air around us, thick, motionless, clogging our lungs like wet cement.

“I had to see it,” she choked out, her voice faint.

Another
whoosh
sounded, and flames shot higher still. I stepped us back from the unfolding disaster.

“There’s nothing you can do,” I gestured to the engulfed structure. Despite that, I couldn’t look away, feeling scraped out, hollow, and angry as hell. What could have caused this?

“We’ve got to get out of here.” She pulled hard on my arm, but I refused to budge. Maybe I could get water from the falls— douse what I could until the Fire Department arrived? As if on cue, the shrill wail of a fire truck sounded.

“No. You go.” I looked around the impenetrable gray fog and knew, even as I said it, that she’d never find her way out alone. My eyes slid back to the gazebo. It didn’t stand a chance without me either.

Trinity broke out of my grip and took an unsteady step forward. “If you’re staying, I’m staying. I’m not leaving you.”

Oh hell. I grabbed her just before her knees buckled and cradled her against my chest. Her eyes fluttered closed and worry skittered up my spine. What if she’d breathed too much of the smoke? I jogged through the woods sideways, taking the brunt of the trunks I crashed into as I shielded her. When I neared the tree line, firemen in yellow-gray suits with heavy backpacks ran by me, waving and shouting for us to get out.

Back out on the field, I collapsed on my back and held Trinity against my thumping heart. I brushed back her hair and stroked her cheek until her unfocused eyes fluttered open and gazed up at me.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded and her face tensed, eyes darting back to the forest. “Just really thirsty.”

I helped her to her feet. “You should have gone back to camp.”

Her nose scrunched. “And leave you? Uh-uh.”

“It would have happened eventually— when I go to college. And that’s only in a few weeks.” I almost slapped a hand over my mouth. Where had that come from? My mind was splintering as easily as the burning gazebo.

She stepped back as if I’d delivered a blow, her mouth dropping open. “But I thought we were together now. Our kiss…”

I held out a hand for her but dropped it when she seemed to shrink within herself, her shoulders rounding, lips tense.

“Look. This isn’t easy for me. Relationships. I don’t have the best track record. I can’t even build a damn gazebo to last. Don’t you get it? Things don’t work out for me long term.”

“Things don’t work out for you? How about you working for them?” Trinity spoke through gritted teeth, hot waves of anger coming off of her.

“Trin—” I shook my head. The gazebo was turning to ashes, and we were talking about
this
?

“What about fighting to make them last? Huh? You see yourself as the boy that got left behind. The one that got dumped. I see a guy that doesn’t go after what he wants. That quits. Gives up too easily.”

Each word was a punch to my solar plexus.

“I tried to save the gazebo.” I shifted beside her, knowing she was dead wrong.

Hoping like hell she was dead wrong.

She shook her head, an impatient jerk like she was shaking off a fly. “An inanimate object. Like that matters? It’s people who matter, Seth. Relationships. Sure they aren’t perfect or built with concrete like the gazebo. But we just saw how that went.”

It took a minute to absorb what she’d said— that’d she’d just dismissed everything I poured myself into these past few weeks. How could I have thought we were a match?

“The firefighters will put it out,” I said with more confidence than I felt. I’d seen those flames, the splintering wood as the railings had crashed into each other. But I refused to believe that something as stable as the gazebo could vanish that easily. That floor was rock solid.

Trinity looked back at the forest then whipped round to face me, eyes narrowing. “And what if they don’t? Will your world fall apart? No. Because it’s just wood and stone. But real connections with others— like what you and I could have had— that matters. People are messy and complicated and they don’t come with guarantees. But that shouldn’t stop you from trying.” She swallowed hard. “It shouldn’t mean you have to walk away when things get tough— like you already planned to do with me.”

I opened my mouth to deny her accusation and shut it. She was right. The kiss had been special, and I’d thought she was too. But didn’t trust that we could have a lasting relationship—especially not a long-distance one.

“You’re a coward,” she whispered, her face rigid, a mask carved from hard wood. “You’re so afraid of getting hurt that you won’t even give things a chance.”

“Because I know what will happen.” Experience taught me what to expect. There wasn’t any reason to believe otherwise.

Trinity took that in with a quick hissing breath. “So you predict the future now? I read tarot cards and charts, but even I don’t sit back and wait for whatever they tell me will happen. I’m in charge of my destiny. Not someone else. And now—not you!”

With that, she spun on her heel and marched away, her sundress streaming behind her.

“Trinity, wait,” I shouted, but she just flipped a hand over her shoulder and kept going. I shoved my hands in my pockets and watched her go, the hole inside me widening.

But this time, I wondered if it was because she was walking away from us—just like I’d known one of us would do eventually. Or if it was because, deep inside, I knew damn well she was right.

***

I don’t know how long I stood there, watching the space she’d left, when my phone buzzed against my hip. I could hear my grandmother’s frantic voice before I got the phone up to my ear.

“Where are you?” she screeched. “Mr. Woodrow’s got the campers in their cabins, but he couldn’t tell me where you were.”

“I’m okay,” I said, feeling anything but. I threaded my way through the last of the stream of firefighters and turned to the river. “The gazebo burned down. Tell Gramps I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” she gasped. “Sweetie, we don’t care about that. You’re what’s important. I’ve been so worried about you.”

My throat closed around what I’d been about to say, and my eyes stung. I knew my dad cared about me, but we’d been two guys living alone—us against the world—and we weren’t much for the whole “sharing our feelings” thing. Gram was the only one, besides Lauren, who told me that I mattered.

Trinity’s heart-shaped face came to mind.

Hadn’t she said as much too?

I shoved the thought into an unreachable spot.

Twenty minutes later, I dragged my canoe up off the bank and stowed it beside the kayak. Water dripped from my face, and I hoped I’d splashed myself enough to get off the grime . I didn’t want Gram knowing how near I’d gotten to the fire. If not for Trinity, I would have gotten even closer, maybe saved some of the gazebo. My gut twisted when I imagined it gone.

“Seth! Is that you?” The porch’s screen door creaked, and my gram’s white head appeared, her round face redder than ever.

I gave her a wave and jogged up the stairs to catch her in a bear hug. When I pulled back, I met her damp eyes. “See. Safe and sound.”

She pulled me close again, and I inhaled the faint scent of vanilla that always clung to her, whether it was a baking day or not.

“When Mr. Woodrow said he hadn’t seen you, I panicked and almost drove up there myself to find you.” She pulled me inside the screen porch and pushed me down on her good wicker couch, oblivious to the dark streaks on my clothes.

I would have stood, but she plopped down beside me and grabbed my hand.

“Gramps didn’t go up there, did he?” I asked, suddenly worried about him.

“No. He’s in town, but he’s on the way back. Luckily someone else volunteered to go over to the camp and bring you home.”

I looked down at her in surprise. “Who?”

My grandmother opened and closed her mouth and twisted a corner of her floral housedress. Before she could speak, the screen door squealed again and an unwelcome guest stepped through the door.

“Me, Seth.” My mother came inside, her tumble of curls wild around her flushed face.

I shot to my feet.

“What is she doing here, Gram?” I backed away, instantly wary. Whatever happy family reunion they’d cooked up was not about to happen.

Gram clutched the arm rest and lurched to her feet, her grimace sending a lance of guilt through me for making her move on her bad hip.

My mother stepped forward. “Seth, I came here on my own. Your grandparents didn’t know until I arrived on their doorstep this morning.”

When she reached for me, I jerked away. Did she think we were going to hug this out?

Gram’s fingers fell on my wrist. “Seth, let’s go inside and have a cup of tea. I baked some raisin oatmeal cookies, and the water’s almost ready.” Gram’s face creased in concern, and I put my arm around her narrow shoulders.

Didn’t my mother understand that she couldn’t impose whenever the whim took her? Upset everyone else’s lives to suit her own?

“Sure, Gram.” I held the door open for her and— less patiently— for my mother.

I stayed behind on the screen for an extra minute. I needed time to wrap my head around this before following her into the bright, yellow-and-white kitchen, the smell of cookies making my stomach rumble despite everything.

“I’ll pour the tea.” I pulled out a spindle-backed chair and gently guided Gram into it. Between my mother’s surprise appearance and her worry over me, Gram had a lot to deal with.

She patted my hand as she sat. “Thank you, dear. Please grab a mug for your mother as well.”

“She’s not my—” I mumbled under my breath.

“Mother?” my mom finished out loud. “You’re right. I haven’t been your mother. I don’t deserve the title. Don’t even deserve that you’re making me tea when I’m sure you’d rather throw it in my face.”

My hand stilled, the tea kettle poised over a couple of mugs, marveling how little she knew me if she’d think I’d ever do something like that.

Ignore her. Yes.

But hurt her? That would only make me as cruel as she was.

“You don’t know me.” I dropped in a couple of tea bags and pulled open the utensil drawer with a horrible grating screech. When I brought the cups to the table, Mom’s eyes stayed on me, though I refused to meet them.