Chapter 10 Sam #2
The morning sun spilled through the trees in soft shafts of gold, dappling the campsite with warmth.
It didn’t quite cut through the chill in the air.
It was the last day. You could feel it everywhere.
The quiet packing, murmured conversations, and slower movements, like everyone was trying to stretch out the final few hours before reality called.
I tugged a hoodie over my head and wandered toward the folding table, where someone, probably Elliott, had already set out the last of the bagels and coffee. My breath curled in pale fog in front of me. Everything was dew-covered and still.
Except for the low rumble of Renzo’s voice as he helped Max collapse their tent, and the steady thuds of trunks closing and bags being shuffled into piles.
I moved on autopilot. Breaking down my tent. Rolling the sleeping bags. Deflating the air mattress.
But something felt off, the rhythm wrong in a way I couldn’t ignore once I noticed it.
Not the kind of off that meant a storm was coming or that someone forgot to pack the lanterns. It was more subtle than that. Like hearing a favorite song where one chord was suddenly off.
Sam hadn’t really said much this morning, and when he did, it felt measured, like he was choosing every move instead of letting them happen.
Sam and I usually clicked during tasks, tossing out casual jokes and moving through whatever needed to be done. But this morning, he was quiet. Focused. He kept his eyes on the gear, moving like he was trying to disappear into each task. Something felt off, and I couldn’t quite figure out why.
Had I said something wrong, or missed something I should’ve caught sooner?
I replayed the night in my head. The firelight, the stories, the hug before bed, the kiss on the cheek. It had all felt normal. I’d done that kind of thing with friends a dozen times. And Sam hadn’t flinched then. So why now?
Why the sudden shift?
I didn’t push. Maybe he was tired. Maybe the week had caught up with him.
“Coffee’s hot,” I said, lifting the thermos as he passed.
He nodded. “Thanks.” His eyes barely flicked up to meet mine.
Something tugged at me. Not quite worry, but close. Closer than I wanted to admit.
I turned back to the SUV and shoved a bin inside, trying not to let the tension show. Behind me, Renzo let out a battle cry as he tried to collapse a camp chair, and Harper cackled in response. The world kept moving, but Sam was a still point in the middle of it. Quiet. Detached.
“Hey, there they are!” a familiar voice called from the gravel path leading toward the parking lot. I turned to see Jake and Marcus making their way over, still shirtless and beaming like they hadn’t just spent a week in the woods with no A/C.
Jake pulled me into a tight hug, his burly arms squeezing a little more than necessary. “You better not wait another year to come back,” he said, voice low and warm in my ear.
Marcus chuckled, his hand casually brushing Jake’s back. “Seriously, this place won’t be the same without y’all.”
“We had a blast,” I said, giving Jake’s shoulder a quick pat before stepping back. “You two definitely helped make it memorable.”
Jake winked, clearly remembering exactly what made it memorable.
I laughed and glanced over to Sam, who had frozen mid-zip on his duffel bag. His eyes passed toward Jake and Marcus. His jaw tightened ever so slightly.
Marcus gave a polite nod in Sam’s direction. “It was great meeting you guys.”
Sam managed a short, clipped, “You too,” before turning his attention back to his packing.
Jake gave me one last hug, his hand grazing my lower back just a second longer than necessary. Then they were off, waving over their shoulders as they headed toward their car.
I watched them go, still smiling faintly, but when I glanced back at Sam, his shoulders were tense again, head down, his back turned toward me.
Yeah. Something was definitely off.
And for the first time all week, I didn’t know how to fix it.
Sam
The ride home to Havenwood started in silence.
Not the easy kind we usually shared, where two best friends could sit side by side without needing to fill the space. This was heavier. I felt it in the way Liam hesitated before starting the engine.
He glanced over as we pulled onto the highway. “You good?”
I kept my eyes on the window and nodded, not trusting my voice with anything more complicated. “Yeah. Just tired. Looking forward to my own bed. And a shower that doesn’t require flip-flops.”
Liam chuckled. “Yeah, fair.”
He tapped his phone and music filled the space, indie pop humming softly through the speakers. The playlist was fun and familiar, like everything was fine. As if I wasn’t still unraveling inside.
I shifted in my seat turning slightly toward the passenger window. The trees blurred past, camp falling behind us, Havenwood drawing closer. I focused on them instead of the knot in my chest.
Why had that kiss on the cheek felt like more?
Why did the hug keep echoing in my thoughts?
Why did Jake’s wink at Liam feel like something I wasn’t part of?
And why couldn’t I stop wondering if I’d imagined all of it?
Liam hummed along softly to a Gracie Abrams track, fingers tapping the steering wheel like nothing was wrong. He looked relaxed. Like none of it had happened. Or maybe like it hadn’t mattered.
I wanted to snap back into our rhythm. I wanted to stop reading into every glance, every pause. But I couldn’t pretend the axis hadn’t shifted beneath us.
So I gave him what I could. A small smile when he handed me a bottle of water. A quiet thank you when he adjusted the vents toward me. And then I went back to the window.
The miles passed that way. Quiet, polite, and not quite right.