Never Will I Ever

Six

Avery

It’s just before dinner time, and I haven’t even had a chance to put on a shirt after changing from our hike—let alone take stock of the injuries on my feet—when the door to my cabin bursts open and Kaleb comes barreling in.

My brows furrow as I snap the button of my shorts closed. “Ever heard of knocking? I could’ve been indecent.”

“Yeah, well, then we’d be even,” he says absently while glancing around the cabin in an almost frantic sort of search. In fact, his eyes haven’t so much as landed on me once.

“You lose something?”

The question causes his gaze to collide with mine, worry and fear running rampant in those forest depths as he says a single word.

“Elijah.”

My brows shoot up. “You lost a kid?”

A grimace appears on his face. “Can we go with misplaced?”

“How do you misplace an entire human being?” I ask, equally amused and concerned. “A shoe or a key or something, sure. But a person would—”

“Yeah, I got it,” he snaps, still panicked and on edge. Probably more so thanks to my jeering.

“And you’ve checked the cafeteria? They were supposed to go there right from the hike for dinner.”

Kaleb shakes his head. “He’s not there.”

Well, shit.

“What about the bathhouse? Colin’s office? His cabin? You checked there too?” I ask, listing any of the places I can think the kid might be.

“Yes, obviously.” He starts raking his fingers through the thicker brown hair on the top, creating a haphazard mess. “No one’s seen him since the hike. I have no idea where he is, and I figured with how you two were talking earlier, he might be here or have said something to you.”

“Not at all.” The small amount of worry in my gut grows as I grab a clean camp tee and slide it over my head. “But we can go look for him.”

“And what about the other kids?”

I arch a brow. “They’re eleven, Kaleb, and there are other counselors in the dining hall. We can leave them to eat dinner without us while we look for him.”

“Goddamnit,” he mutters, glancing at me again. “Fine, but we should split up and cover more ground.”

“Fine by me.”

I toe into my shoes again, doing my best to ignore the painful blisters and scrapes covering my feet, and follow him down the steps of my cabin.

“How do you wanna do this?” I ask, falling into step with him as we rush down the path toward the lodge.

“I’ll keep looking around the center of the complex. Maybe he’s just moving while I am, so I’m always missing him. You check the paths to the other cabins. And maybe some other areas of the grounds. Over by Glass Lake, the clearing. I doubt he’d wander off that far, but at least we’re covering all our bases.”

He stops once we reach the outside of the lodge and hands me one of the walkie-talkies we’ve been using on hikes and other excursions. “Radio in if you find him. If you don’t, meet me back here in an hour and we can…”

The way he trails off tells me he’s clearly thinking the worst. Hell, I wouldn’t be lying if I wasn’t too. This is probably every camp counselor’s nightmare, especially deep into the wilderness like this, the nearest town almost ten miles away. The only way to make it worse would be if it was dark…which it will be in a couple hours.

Without thinking, I place my hand on his arm and give a comforting squeeze, not taking into account the way it would amplify the electricity crackling in the air between us. It’s something that’s almost constant now when we’re around each other.

“We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly, and he nods. “We’ll find him.”

After a couple seconds, the burn of his skin beneath my palm becomes impossible to ignore—as does the hissing sound in my head, slowly turning into a snarl—and I pull my hand away. Yet our gazes stay locked together, harnessed by gravity or whatever else is responsible for the way we keep being pulled together like this.

“Please try not to alert anyone that we’ve lost a kid,” he says softly, and I see the same bit of fear from when he burst into my cabin swimming in his eyes again. “Especially Colin. You know, until we’re certain.”

A smirk I don’t entirely feel lifts the corner of my mouth. “We? Last I checked, he was lost on your watch and not mine.”

The jab earns me an eye roll, effectively breaking the moment. “See you in a bit.”

We part ways at the lodge, and I head up through all the rows of cabins—thinking maybe he went off and found another one of the groups—only to come up empty.

I don’t have any luck up near the hiking path, and he’s not in the field off the far end of the lake either. But just as I’m about to leave the field and head back in, I finally spot him.

Across the lake.

Sitting at the edge of the dock, legs dangling in the water.

Alone.

It’s not until I see him that I realize how truly anxious I’ve been about him being missing. Relief floods through me, washing through every cell of my body. It’s probably also why I take off in a dead sprint until I reach the trail leading to the dock. Swear to God, I’ve never run faster in my life, even with the plethora of blisters I earned today.

The second he comes into view again at the end of the path, I can finally breathe.

From this distance, he appears unharmed. And even though he’s maybe fifty yards away, the slump of his back and downward droop of his head make it obvious he’s upset about something.

Or like he’s a child version of Atlas, the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.

Slowly, I close the distance to Elijah, and when I reach his side, I choose not to speak. Instead, I slide out of my shoes before taking a seat beside him, ready to submerge my feet in the cool lake water.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” Elijah mutters without so much as looking at me. “Your blisters could get infected.”

He makes a valid point, but…

“I’ll take my chances,” I reply, plunging my feet through the surface.

Silence lingers between us, allowing the sounds of nature to fill the void. Birds chirp off in the distance, and the wind creates small waves in the lake that lap against the edge of the dock.

It’s peaceful. Calming.

Elijah might as well be an ice sculpture, giving off every I don’t want to talk vibe possible. But as more time and silence stretches, I can almost feel him melting beside me.

And then, without any prompting, he speaks.

“I hate coming here.”

I shift my attention to him, treading carefully with my response. “To the lake?”

“Alpine Ridge,” he corrects, kicking his feet in the water. “It sucks here.”

I’ve got to give Colin credit; he’s spot-on about Elijah not enjoying his time here. But that didn’t seem to be the case earlier today on the hike, and I wonder what’s changed since then.

“You’re telling me you didn’t have fun today?”

His brow raises, but he still doesn’t look at me. “You think climbing mountains is fun? It’s literally walking uphill to nowhere before turning around and going back down.”

My lips quirk, because, yeah. Hiking is kind of insane when you put it in that perspective.

“And you didn’t have a good time out here earlier this week?” I ask, arching a brow. “All the kayaking and stuff?”

This time, all I get is a headshake.

“Then why do you keep coming? I mean, I know your uncle runs the place, but…” I trail off, purposely leaving the sentence open-ended so he can fill it as he pleases. Hopefully he does, giving me more than a couple short words as an answer.

When those two saucers for eyes finally move away from the water and look up at me, I can see the breakthrough we’re about to make.

“I don’t really have a choice. Dad wants me to come. Make friends, be outside, experience the world, ” he says, a bit of mocking sarcasm laced in his tone on the last one. There’s a shrug of indifference before he adds, “So I just do it, even if none of those things actually happen.”

“You have friends, though,” I point out. I’ve seen him laugh and joke around with some of the other boys at lunch or during the activities. In fact, never once during this past week would I have thought he was the same kid Colin described to me on the first day.

Not until this moment.

A soft snort comes from him. “Maybe we get along, but those guys aren’t my friends.”

I bite my lip before hedging, “Dayton and Colton seem nice. They’re your bunkmates, right? And from what I understand, they’ve been coming here just as long as you have.”

This time I get another shrug. “I always feel like a third wheel because of their whole…twin bond thing.”

“What about Liam or Jordan or Bradley?” I ask, listing off a bunch of kids in our group. “I’ve seen you laughing and joking with them a few times.”

“They’re too sporty and outdoorsy.”

I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t help the slight chuckle falling from my lips. “You’re at a wilderness summer camp, kid. Isn’t that the entire point?”

“That is the point,” he says. “But that’s not me. I’d rather spend my summer in my room—”

“If you say playing video games, I’m going to scream,” I cut in. To drive the point home, I open my mouth and suck in a deep breath, ready to let it rip.

He clamps his hand over my mouth, and for the first time since I’ve sat down beside him, a smile creeps into his expression. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those adults who hates video games.”

I laugh beneath his palm before pushing it from my face. “First of all, I’m not an adult. I might be old enough to be considered one, but I promise, I’m just as much of a kid as you are. And second, I love video games. But those are for the rainy winter days, not the insanely nice weather we get during the summer.”

“Unless you’re someone who hates going outside,” he points out. “Then video games are great every day.”

“Fair enough. But have you tried finding something out here that you do enjoy? Archery or the ropes course or scavenger hunts? Anything at all?”

“They’re okay, but I don’t really like any of it.” His shoulders lift in another damn shrug before his voice comes out more lost and alone than I’ve ever heard it. “It makes me feel like I don’t belong here.”

I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to break for someone else, but here I am, feeling it all the same. And I hate it for him.

Maybe because I understand what he’s saying more than I care to admit.

“You’re not alone in that feeling,” I muse more to myself than to him. “But you know what we gotta do in the moments where we don’t think we fit in?”

“I have a feeling go home isn’t the right answer,” he says, a brow arched.

“Nice try.” I grin before bumping my shoulder against his. “Nah, kid. We just fake it ‘til we make it.”

He takes a second to mull it over before he taps his foot against mine.

“And how’s that working for you? Wearing boating shoes for hiking?” he says, his tone teasing. “I mean, c’mon. Who does that?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I never said I was good at faking it, okay? It’s a work in progress. But it’s getting easier every day, just like it will for you.”

Even with his nod of agreement, I can tell he’s not completely sold on the idea. We’ve got to start somewhere, though.

“Maybe you’re right.”

Our conversation fades, the sounds of nature taking the place of words instead. I’m not sure how long we stay wrapped in this tranquil bubble while looking out over the alpine lake. But I do know it’s the most at peace I’ve felt since arriving here.

The feeling doesn’t last much longer, though, because when I absently glance behind us, I spot Kaleb.

He’s walking down the path toward us, a mixture of relief and irritation written in his expression that’s visible even from this distance. The crease in his brow and slight frown etched at the corner of his lips makes it all too apparent he’s not happy to find Elijah and me here together.

Probably because I didn’t do the one thing I was supposed to: call back on the walkie-talkie if I found him.

“Elijah, you’re supposed to be up at the lodge for dinner right now,” he says as he reaches us, eyes locked on the kid beside me.

“I don’t want to eat up there,” Eli mutters beside me, kicking at the water absently. “I don’t want to be here at all.”

Intuition hits me, and I think I understand what problem he might be having.

“Let’s go up and I’ll sit with you,” I find myself saying before I can think better of it.

Elijah’s head snaps over to me, giving me doe eyes like I just hung the moon or some shit. “Really?”

Bingo.

I shrug. “I mean, why not? There’s no rules against it.” At least, I don’t think there is. But just to be sure, I glance over at Kaleb, who nods.

“There’s no problem with it,” Kaleb confirms. “But you do need to eat. We’ve had a long day, and tomorrow will be just as long. You need the energy.”

Eli lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “Great. Another long, draining day in the wilderness planned for tomorrow. Just what I wanted.”

The mouth on this kid. I have to roll my lips inward to keep from laughing.

“C’mon,” I say before bumping his shoulder with mine. “Let’s get back to the rest of the guys before we get in even more trouble.”

Between hiking earlier today and running around looking for Elijah afterward, my feet are indeed two slabs of raw meat by the time dinner is over. A fact that becomes even more apparent when I take a seat back on the dock and remove my shoes to find patches of inflamed skin that sting when the cool air hits them.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath, taking in the carnage.

I flick open the first aid kit I grabbed from the lodge and start on cleaning the blisters when I hear the crunching of twigs and footsteps, alerting me I’m no longer alone on the dock. And though the voice is obvious once he speaks, I could’ve guessed it was Kaleb without turning around.

“Thought I might find you here,” he says as he drops to the wood beside me.

Lifting my gaze to collide with his reveals those green irises dancing with delight. A true I told you so expression sits on his smug face, and as much as I hate admitting it, I deserve it.

He was right by telling me hiking in damn boat shoes was a bad idea.

“I take it you’ve come to gloat?”

The corner of his mouth lifts a bit more before he juts his chin toward my feet. “Nah, I think the state of your feet does that rather disgusting job for me.”

My attention shifts back to my feet, and I realize, yeah, they sure do. But at least none of them are on the bottom of my foot, which would make it entirely worse.

“Here, let me,” he says, grabbing the roll of gauze before starting to wrap my left heel. He glances up at me for a moment when I don’t fight him on it. “Unless you’d rather me not. But I’ve had enough first aid training to do this in my sleep.”

All I can do is nod for him to continue, because I’m left speechless, truly unable to say a single word. Though maybe it’s because my subconscious knows it’s better for him to take care of it correctly rather than, once again, making a fool of myself.

Or it’s due to the zaps of energy coursing through me where his skin lingers on mine that I’m desperately trying to ignore.

He keeps tending to my wounds in silence for a while, simultaneously taking in the carnage as he goes. But when he moves to my other foot, he lets out a low whistle.

“Damn, you did a number on yourself,” he muses before wrapping the heel. “I have an extra pair of hiking boots, you know. So do plenty of the other counselors. All you had to do was ask around to borrow a pair in your size.”

“And here I thought you said there wouldn’t be any gloating,” I say dryly.

“I wouldn’t call it gloating so much as informing you so this doesn’t happen again.” He moves, wrapping a rather tender spot, and we both wince when the gauze makes contact with my skin.

“Motherfuck,” I mutter. “Might be better to chop ’em off at this rate.”

His mouth twitches into something of a smile. “Still might have to after you decided to stick them into the lake water earlier. You did wash them out after, right?”

I roll my eyes. “I might be inept when it comes to packing for a couple months in the wilderness, but I know basic first aid protocol.”

There’s another quiver of his lips, and I can tell he’s fighting back another comment. Or more laughter. Hell, probably both, if I had to bet on it, and it has me flashing back to the days at the beginning of college, where we’d often toss banter back and forth. But that’s all in the past now, and I doubt that’ll change anytime soon.

Thankfully, he doesn’t make a peep while he continues wrapping gauze around my foot, which might be the only good thing to happen today—apart from my conversations with Elijah this evening.

His willingness to talk with me about what’s bothering him is the first time I’ve actually felt useful since arriving here. Honestly, it was probably the first time in a while I’ve felt understood by someone else.

And it was talking to a freaking preteen.

But that’s because I get it; I’ve been on the side of not fitting in. Of not feeling comfortable being myself or showing who I really am to the people around me. Of trying to be the person my father wants me to be. And look what it’s done. I’ve become jaded and guarded, cutting off any and every type of relationship at the knees. It’s isolating, living like this, and it’s something I can see in Elijah too.

The last thing I want is to see the kid go down the same road I did. So even if it might not be my place, here I am, inserting myself anyway.

“I need to ask you for a favor,” I hedge, my hand swishing in the water while Kaleb continues to work.

He glances up from his task, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Asking for boots now isn’t gonna help the situation. But yeah, you can use mine next time.”

“Very funny,” I mutter, laying the sarcasm on thick, because that’s not where I was going with this—though I will definitely put a pin in his offer for later. No way in hell I want to deal with the pain and embarrassment of him playing nurse to my stupidity all over again.

Kaleb is sure getting amusement out of it, though. Which grates on my damn nerves as always, but I’m still thankful for him helping me right now. He doesn’t owe me anything, especially when we’ve been butting heads since the moment I arrived.

“What is it you really wanted to ask?”

I tap my fingers against the worn wood of the dock and wet my lips. “Do you think your brothers would bring Elijah into their circle a bit? Is that something you can make happen?”

A weird expression crosses his face at my request, his lips parting slightly, and those forest-green eyes widening a bit. It’s some mixture of bewilderment and…maybe awe? All I know is he’s looking at me like he doesn’t even recognize me. Or like I’ve been body snatched by someone who actually gives a shit about anyone other than myself.

Then again, this very well might be the first time it’s ever happened, so I can’t really blame him.

His attention flicks away from me to the water as his mouth snaps closed. Even when he clears his throat, his voice still comes out a little graveled. “I’ll see what I can do. Or Colin can.”

The last thing that kid wants is his uncle coming to his rescue, trying to make friends for him. It sure as hell wouldn’t do a whole lot to help him feel included or less alone.

And the entire point of me being placed with Eli’s group was so Colin didn’t have to worry about him this summer.

“Don’t involve Colin,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “It’ll only make the situation worse.”

“And what is the situation, exactly?”

Divulging something Elijah has told me in confidence doesn’t feel right, but neither does sitting on this information if there are any ideas Kaleb might have to help him. After all, he’s known the kid far longer than I have.

I blow out a long breath and shake my head. “He hates it here. Thinks of himself as an outsider. Feels like he doesn’t belong.”

Understanding crosses Kaleb’s face, but he doesn’t look all that surprised as he nods.

“I wish I could say I wasn’t expecting that answer, but he’s been that way since his first year here. Very closed off and fearful of rejection,” he says as he finishes dressing my wounds. “But not with you. You’ve gotten through to him more in the past week than I’ve managed to in three years. Something I’d be annoyed by if I wasn’t grateful he’s at least opening up to someone.”

I sigh and roll my shoulders, like it would be enough to get rid of the anxiety, stress, and worry knotted in them. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

When I lift my gaze to meet his again, he’s wearing that same expression from earlier. The one reading like he’s never seen me until right now, and it brings back the awful feeling of being paper thin. Transparent as glass.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I snap, my discomfort coming out as irritation.

He looks away quickly and shakes his head, but a smile hints at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know. You’re just really good with him. It’s different than I expected.”

Yeah, well, I can’t say I expected it either. But being fucked up by the expectations of a parent has a way of bonding people, no matter how different they might seem at the surface. Doesn’t mean I want Kaleb to see that part of me, though. If he does, it’s terrifying to think he might see even more things he’s not supposed to.

“Gotta mix it up sometimes,” I deadpan, attention fixated on checking my palms for invisible slivers to keep from looking at him. “Being an asshole all the time would just make me predictable. Better to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Yeah, that’s gotta be it,” he murmurs, and when I hear the amusement in his voice, I’m forced to look up after all.

A full-on grin sits on his lips now, and I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile at me. A real smile, not one of those patronizing or smug ones I’ve been getting since I arrived here. This is just pure…I don’t know.

Happiness seems like the wrong word. It’s almost like he’s seeing something I’m not, and it makes me more unsettled; the same swirling feeling in my gut returning to accompany the electric buzz between us.

“It is.”

He lets out something between a laugh and a scoff. “Couldn’t possibly be that you actually give a shit about the kid, right?”

My lips form into a thin line and I shake my head. “Nope. Just doing my job.”

And when Elijah goes home to tell his dad about his awesome counselor who helped him get through the summer at a camp he hates going to, there’s no way in hell I won’t get back into Foltyn.

He’s a means to an end. The win-win Colin offered me. That’s it.

At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.