Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
VICTORIA
W hen we all stand to leave, Roxy touches my arm. “Can we talk privately before I take off?” she says.
“Of course.” My anxious brain goes right to the catastrophic place, telling me that there’s more to the Priya incident than she let on during the meeting.
“Come take a walk with me,” Roxy says. “If I sit any longer I’m going to explode. I’ve got a four-hour car ride ahead of me and I’m full of sugar and hospital vending machine coffee.”
I follow her as she heads across the parking lot and starts down the walking trail that loops around the facility.
“I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay,” she says. “I know last night must have been scary.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “But I’m good. And I’m so glad that Priya’s okay.”
Roxy nods. “Summer camp’s always full of surprises. We hope for the pleasant kind, but now and then something like this happens. I’m really glad you were here and did what you did.”
“Thanks,” I tell her. “You’re right about having a great team, by the way.”
She snorts. “Obviously. I only hire the best.”
I cringe at that because today I do not feel like the best .
“I also wanted to give you an update on this job,” she says, picking up her pace. “The college would like to officially extend your position into one that’s year-round.”
“What?” I ask, because those words are the opposite of what I expected. “Are you serious?”
“You’re a great fit,” she says. “I told the director he’d be making a huge mistake by letting you slip away, and for once, the big doofus listened to me.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I tell her.
“Say you’ll stay on with us. A simple yes, Roxy will suffice.” She smiles. “We can celebrate properly when we’re off this mountain.”
My heart pounds in my ears, filling me with guilt because I can’t say yes. Not like this.
“I have to tell you something,” I blurt. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.” When I slow my pace, she gives my arm a nudge.
“Okay,” she says. “But walk and talk.” She walks faster, swinging her arms. “Managing parents sends my cortisol off the charts.”
“You asked me about Noah, and I left out some details.”
She glances at me, her brow lifted.
“We’re old friends. That was true.”
“Okay,” she says, dragging out the syllables.
“We were close, and I had some complicated feelings about him.” My heart’s in my throat, but I try to concentrate on the sound of my boots smacking the concrete. “And being here with him has brought some of that back to the surface.”
“You still have feelings for him,” she says.
“Yes,” I admit. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this for anyone before.”
She nods, her expression hard to read. Is it anger? Disappointment? Hurt?
“I think he feels something too,” I go on. “But we agreed that we couldn’t pursue this here. And we haven’t.” That job offer is going up in flames, but I don’t want it if it means I have to keep lying to Roxy.
She studies me for a long moment and then says, “Oh, he definitely feels something. I see the way he looks at you. Like you hung the moon and every star in the sky.”
My heart squeezes at the thought.
“I shouldn’t have kept this from you,” I tell her. “But I felt like I was breaking the biggest rule, and I didn’t want to let you down. And the last thing I want is to get Noah in trouble. This job means the world to him, and he’s amazing with these kids.”
“He is,” she says. “And so are you.”
I hold my breath, because it sounds like a big but is coming.
She sighs. “Sweetie, you aren’t letting me down. Having intense feelings for someone isn’t something to be ashamed of. That’s not breaking any rules.”
I wince. “But kissing him is.”
She stops so abruptly that I bump into her. When she turns to me, she’s biting her lip. “Vic,” she breathes, her eyes pinning me in place. “What are you saying?”
“One kiss,” I tell her, keeping my voice low. We’re on the far side of the meadow now, which feels like ten miles from everyone. “But nothing more, I promise. We agreed we couldn’t cross that line—or, cross any further over it. Not here. And for the record, I kissed him . So if someone needs to be reprimanded or fired, it’s me. Not Noah.”
Hands on her hips, she closes her eyes and turns her head up toward the sky. She lets out a heavy breath, and my heart pounds against my ribs. This is it—the moment where she’ll fire me and tell me to pack my bags. I’ve ruined everything, just like I was afraid I would.
“Roxy?” My voice comes out in a squeak. “Say something.”
She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut. “Sweet baby cheeses.”
I wait, but she just starts pacing in a small circle, her lips a hard line.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “There’s no excuse. Just tell me what you want me to do. How can I fix this?”
She blows out a heavy breath. “Did anything else happen?”
“No.” I swallow hard, thinking of that night, how I wanted so much more. How I still do.
There’s a long pause, and my heart hammers so hard that it hurts.
“Here’s the thing,” she says finally. “Something like this usually means termination. At a site this small, I’d be losing two-thirds of my staff. Protocol is to send in replacements.”
Tears spring to my eyes. I’ve let everyone down—Roxy, Sophie, all the kids.
“But we’re at the end of camp,” she says, shaking her head. When she turns to me, her face softens. “That wasn’t the greatest move,” she says. “But you’re not a reckless, thoughtless person. I know you, Vic, and I know you care about these kids and this job. You don’t take it lightly.”
I nod, choking back tears. “I want a chance to fix this, Roxy.”
Her brow furrows. “If you tell me that nothing else happened, and nothing more will happen while you two are on site, then I believe you.”
“Of course,” I tell her. “Nothing else.”
She nods. “Then your supervisor Roxy is going to say that this was a misstep. Everyone has them. We’re going to chalk this up to an error in judgment that will no longer be an issue, and we’ll move forward.” She gives me a tiny nod. “Consider it fixed.”
Relief washes over me as I nod in agreement. “Thank you.”
“And your friend Roxy is going to insist that you not beat yourself up over this.”
I make a sound that’s somewhere between a grumble and a growl.
“Look.” She turns and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Is this an ideal situation? No. Was anyone hurt? Were the kids affected? Also no. You’re human, Victoria. I appreciate you telling me, but I’m not holding anything against you. You’re a good person who made a mistake. It happens.”
I nod, fighting back tears for what feels like the millionth time this week.
“I’ll withdraw my application,” I tell her, feeling my heart constrict at the thought. And that’s when I realize how badly I want this job.
“Because you kissed a guy?” she says. “No way.”
“Roxy,” I argue. “I think I should.”
She lifts a brow. “Absolutely not. Do you think a man in your position would quit? I’m frankly fed up with women telling themselves no before anyone else does. I’m not going to let you do that.” She plants her hands on her hips and pins me with her stare. “If you want the job, it’s yours. And based on the way you seem to be absolutely glowing up here, I think you do.”
I nod, thinking of Diana's offer, and my stomach’s in knots again. The job with her could skyrocket my career—it’s what I’ve spent the last several years working toward. When she told me how much I could expect to make in commissions, I nearly choked because holy bananas, that many zeros would change my life completely.
This job with the camp won’t come with that many zeros. But what it offers could be so much more meaningful.
I don’t want to make this decision out of fear, and right now my overthinking brain has several fears bouncing around inside it. I’m afraid I’ll regret passing up the job with Diana. I’m afraid taking this job with Roxy is biting off more than I can chew. I’m afraid saying no might be the biggest mistake of my life. But most of all, I’m afraid of what might happen if I take this chance with Noah and then we fall apart—because that would mean losing everything.
Again.
In the storm of dark thoughts, one bright one floats the the surface: But what if everything works out just the way you want—and nothing falls apart?
“Can I have a couple of days to think it over?” I ask.
She nods. “Of course. I’ll email you the offer letter with all of the details before I leave.”
“Thank you.”
“Now,” she says. “Your friend Roxy has one more question. Does he make you happy? Because you deserve someone who lights you up like the Fourth of July, and I won’t let you settle for anything less.”
I smile because bossy Roxy is my favorite.
“I think he could,” I say.
“Someday,” she says, “I want to hear all the details. But let’s have that conversation when we’re off this mountain.”
“Deal,” I tell her. Even thinking of that night at the campground is stirring up the butterflies again.
She nods and starts walking back toward the cabins. Today’s one of those perfect days where the sun’s filtered through big puffy clouds, and the air is crisp and clear. There’s just enough breeze to keep the summer heat at bay.
“For the record,” she says, “You’re also amazing with these kids. I hope you know how much that means.”
This time, I don’t argue with her.
When Layla and I get to the hospital, Priya looks up from the Octavia Butler book she’s reading and gives us a small smile. Aside from the dark circles beneath her eyes, she looks good.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her.
“Better. But I’m so bored,” she groans, just as Layla sits on the bed next to her.
“Good thing we’re here, then,” Layla says.
“Aunt Radha texted me and said they’re leaving soon,” Priya says. “They said they’d be here by three, but they’re always late.”
“No problem,” I tell her with a shrug. “We’ve got nowhere else to be today.”
She smiles and says, “Thanks for coming back to stay with me.” Something in her tone makes me think she’s more accustomed to being left by herself. My heart squeezes at the thought.
“Are you kidding?” I ask her. “You don’t get to leave under cover of darkness and rob me of a proper goodbye.”
Layla digs through her backpack and thrusts a big pink envelope towards Priya. “Open it,” she says, her eyes glittering.
Priya’s face lights up as she opens the envelope. Inside is a card made from a collage of images: blue mountains, a waterfall, a big golden moon, one of the massive telescopes like at the institute. When Priya opens the card, Layla says, “We made it for you this morning. Everyone signed it since they didn’t have a chance to tell you bye.”
Priya beams as Layla pulls her into a bear hug and says, “Everybody was so glad to hear you’re okay.”
There’s another tug deep in my chest, and a thought hits me like a bolt of lightning. The thing I liked most about real estate was helping people find a place that became their home—a place where they felt they belonged. And being at this camp, with these kids—it’s the same in that way. The classes are cool, and the outings are a blast, but the most meaningful part of being here this summer has been moments like this one: watching two kids who felt like misfits grow more comfortable in their own skin and leave this place feeling like they can belong, too.
This camp sometimes pushed me to my limits, only to reveal moments like this one that remind me of how much good there is in the world. A glimmer, Noah would say, but to me, it’s much more.
This job won’t make me a big pile of money like the job with Diana would—but right now, I can’t imagine working for her and going back to that lifestyle I was so eager to leave. But I can easily see myself doing this work, being surrounded by people like these kids who bring the best parts of me to the surface, where they can grow in the light.
“Picture time,” I tell the girls, pulling my cell phone from my pocket. I want to etch this moment into my memory.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Layla says, digging through her bag again. She pulls out a blue ball cap and hands it to Priya. It’s dustier now, but I recognize the Ursa Major constellation embroidered with the outline of a bear. The hat Derrick wore nearly every day—the one he nearly lost at the waterfall that very first week.
“I don’t understand,” Priya says. “This is his favorite.”
Layla smirks, nudging her arm. “He said it looks better on you.”
Priya blushes as she puts the hat on her head. When I snap the picture, the girls are grinning like a couple of Swifties who just won front-row tickets.
When Layla pulls me onto the bed with them and snaps more photos, I see what Roxy means. Even under the dreadful fluorescent lights of the the hospital, I’m glowing.
I don’t need to overthink this job offer anymore. I can embrace my doubts and move through the hurricane of racing thoughts and biting fears because there are moments like this on the other side.
And these moments? They’re well worth running toward.
I text the photo of me with the girls to Noah, but he doesn’t respond. He hasn’t responded to any of the texts I’ve sent him today, and I’m hoping that’s just because he’s busy with airport runs and refuses to text while driving. Still, his silence only makes me replay our last conversation, picking it apart for evidence that I gave him a reason to ignore my attempts to talk.
As I’m driving back to the institute, my phone pings with a text message, and I grin, anticipating a playful response from Noah. I can’t wait to tell him about Roxy’s offer. And my new plan.
But the text is from Sophie.
How’s it going there? Did Priya’s family show up yet?
Great! I reply, using voice-text. They were all super nice and left a little while ago. I’m headed back now.
Sweet! she writes. See you soon. Party on the patio tonight to celebrate another great session.
Noah still hasn’t responded. After a moment, I send another voice text to Sophie: How’s Noah? Air all the kids in the air?
All good, she answers. I frown because it both is and isn’t.
Back at the institute, I find Sophie sitting at the picnic table by the cabins, reading a book that, based on the cover, definitely has some dragons and spicy times. She’s so into it that she doesn’t notice I’m there until I sit down across from her.
“Welcome back,” she says with a smile. “You officially survived camp.”
“Feels like it’s been longer than three weeks,” I tell her, stretching my arms over my head. “And yet also, like we just got here yesterday.”
She nods, closing the book. “Feels like that every time. Everything go okay with Priya’s family?”
“They were lovely,” I tell her. “Concerned, of course, and talked at length with the doctor who treated her. Then they asked Priya a million questions about camp, and once her aunt started quizzing me instead, Priya practically dragged her outside by her arm and swore she and Layla would tell her all the details on the car ride.”
In the parking lot, Aunt Radha gave me a rib-cracking hug and thanked me again for staying with Priya. As they all climbed inside the car, the girls were already chattering about their favorite parts of camp. When they waved to me out the windows, I felt like my heart grew three sizes.
“Those two are the cutest,” Sophie says. “Friends for life now. That’s the magic of summer camp.”
“Did Noah make it back yet?” I glance toward the parking lot, where there’s now only my car and Sophie’s. It’s nearly seven, and the sun’s dipped below the ridge, leaving the sky a deep periwinkle. The first stars are popping out beneath a sliver of moon.
“Change of plans,” she says. “It’s just you and me tonight. He had to drive back to Charleston.”
“Oh.” I try not to sound as deflated as I feel. “Is everything okay?”
“He’s fine. Said he needed to help his sister with something urgent that came up.”
She glances at me, perfectly penciled brow lifted, and I’m certain she’s finally put all these pieces together. My heart squeezes when I think about my unanswered texts—I wanted to talk tonight, but now he’s left without a word.
He’s pulling away again, and it hurts even more than it did the first time, all those years ago. I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll through the texts I sent him today. It’s possible they weren’t delivered, and I didn’t notice with all the activity at the hospital.
But the messages went through just fine. All six of them, from my breezy Just FYI, the hospital coffee is WAY worse than our camp coffee, to my later Are we in the home stretch yet, because I’m going to need to celebrate with an adult beverage soon.
All day, I told myself that he was too busy wrangling kids and returning rental cars to reply. Sooner or later, he’d write back with some snappy joke about Derrick’s luggage and tell me he was just as eager as I was to have time alone together tonight.
But that message never came.
That nagging voice in my head whispers that it was bound to happen this way, that I was foolish to think whatever was growing between us could survive outside of this camp. I didn’t want to let myself believe that he could disappear like this again, but ignoring my texts all day is all the proof I need.
And that proof hurts me way down deep, even more than I thought it would.
“You okay?” Sophie says, her brows pinching together.
“Just tired,” I tell her, because the truth is so much more complicated.
She nods as if she half-believes me. “Hungry?”
“Ravenous.”
Flashing me a tiny smile, she says, “Come on. The kitchen staff prepped a meal for us. They promised it was both delicious and easy enough for me to cook without incident, and I want to test that theory.”
“I’ll be your sous chef,” I say, following her toward the dining hall. At this point, I’ll do anything to get Noah off my mind, even if it’s chopping onions and washing dishes.
After we’ve finished our spaghetti picnic in the dining hall, Sophie says, “So am I going to see you at another one of these camps?”
“I hope so,” I answer. “This was nothing like I expected. I seriously considered running away when I first got up here.”
“You did have that look in your eye,” she says. “But I’m really glad you didn’t.”
“I wasn’t prepared for any of this. But that reminds me—Roxy said that you might be able to help me in that department. She said I should ask you about Pinehaven.”
Sophie smiles. “Now that’s my real happy place.”
It’s after ten-thirty when I take my flashlight and walk out to the cell phone tree to check for messages one last time. It’s been several hours since I last texted Noah, and as I wait under the big fir tree, I hold my breath as my phone lights up with new emails and texts.
I scroll through quickly, but the only texts are from Gwen, telling me to drive safe and call her when I’m on the road.
An owl calls from somewhere overhead, and I pace under the tree, waiting to see if any other messages come in.
They don’t.
There’s no word from Noah. Not even a reaction to all the texts I sent him earlier today.
I’m floored that this is happening again, and mad at myself for getting my hopes up so high. That voice in my head just laughs and says, Are you though? Are you really surprised?
I think of how close we were, how everything seemed to be falling into place. How the offer from Roxy made it seem that all of this would work out. But maybe I was right the first time: maybe I just don’t get to have both.
Shaking my head, I type out one last message to Noah so there won’t be any confusion this time around.
I get that we’re in a weird place right now. I was hoping to talk about things before we left, and I know I haven’t been the best at explaining how I feel. I’m ready to talk if you are—but if you’re not interested, I understand.
I study the words for a moment, and then I hit send .
Because my inner optimist isn’t completely dead, I sit under that tree for the next half-hour. I’m waiting to see if Noah will respond, but I’m also listening to the owls calling to each other from the treetops, to the wind as it rustles the leaves. Before this camp, I couldn’t tell you the last time I heard those sounds—or, more precisely, when I made time to listen for them.
This place has changed me in more ways than I can count. And even if I leave here heartbroken, I still wouldn’t change a single moment.
It’s after eleven when I check my phone once more. Still no response from Noah.
I stand and brush myself off, stare once more at this impossibly black sky filled with glittering stars—a billion tiny points of light in the vast darkness. Stars that seem to nearly touch, so close that we’ve woven them together with stories of bears and warriors—but it’s just an illusion. The space between those stars is infinite.
“Message received,” I say, shoving my phone back into my pocket. “Loud and clear.”