Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dex
I kissed Sayla Kroft.
And Sayla Kroft kissed me.
Then she admitted she’d been wanting this for a long time, too.
Too.
In that moment, every thought I’d been hiding in my brain became words leaking into Sayla’s mouth. I was helpless against the tide. I didn’t even want the waves to end. Then her mom called, and everything shifted. No more tide. No more waves.
And now, according to Sayla, we’re just supposed to go back to Stony Peak and get on with our lives as if nothing happened here. But something happened here.
When we showed up to Camp Reboot, Sayla thought of me as the enemy. She’d dug a boundary between us that was roughly the size of the Grand Canyon. And we leaped over it last night.
Then Sayla said stop.
So we stopped.
As much as I trust myself not to cross any lines, I wanted her to know she could trust me, too. I’d never amp up the pressure or take advantage of our shared cabin. That’s not the man I am. So we crawled into bed—our own separate beds—and slept.
Unlike the previous night, I actually did sleep.
For hours. Like the dead. The fatigue must’ve finally caught up with me—from all the yoga and the breathing.
Some rock climbing and trust falls. An obstacle course after the ropes, then a scavenger hunt, plus a trail hike. The trivia and karaoke. More yoga.
It’s been a journey.
What’s worn me out more deeply, though, all the way to my core, are these feelings I’m growing for Sayla.
Not to mention the surge of fear that almost took me down when I thought she was missing.
That should’ve been the first clue I’m losing control of my emotions.
Luckily, Sayla got so distracted by her mom’s call, she never questioned my outsized reaction.
For that, I’m grateful.
Still, after only a few days of being around her all the time, I find myself wanting to dig below her surface.
I’ve already opened up more to her than I have to any other woman.
She’s seen my tattoos. I told her about Clarence.
I can’t even fathom that lapse in judgment.
And then the panic I felt when I thought I’d lost her dragged me twenty years into the past.
I swore I’d never let myself endure something like that again. Loving anyone hard is a risk that comes with pain. Not loving hard is safer.
Simple as that.
Which is why pumping the brakes on whatever’s brewing between Sayla and me is probably the right thing.
Responsible. I’ve got to regain some semblance of self-control.
Once we leave here, we’ll be driving directly to Stony Peak.
Wilford wants us to meet with the faculty to share our revised plans for the visitation.
We’ll be diving right back into our old dynamic.
Only in reversed roles. Getting a four-year approval from the accreditation committee has to be priority number one.
That alone will take all our focus.
So I rise at dawn and head to the porch to soak up a last moment of peace before we return to reality.
On the seat of an Adirondack chair are a pair of manila folders.
One’s got a few blank sheets of paper inside and a couple of stamped envelopes addressed to Camp Reboot.
In the other folder, there’s a handwritten note from Bob and Hildy.
Dear Dexter and Sailor (HA HA! We still feel bad about that!)
Before reading any further, I peek back into the cabin to check on Sayla. A wild spray of blonde spreads over her pillow, but the rest of her is burrowed under the quilt. I feel a twinge of guilt, like reading their note without her is wrong. But it’s written to both of us, and she’s still asleep.
So yeah. I go ahead.
We just want to thank you both for coming to Camp Reboot this week.
Our retreat can only be as good as the guests who show up, and you two sure made the most of our agenda and activities.
We saw a lot of effort and growth from both of you in a short period of time.
More importantly, we hope you’ll keep growing together after you’re back home.
(Fern hopes so, too!)
Before you came here, your principal asked us to report back on which one of you should receive your school’s grant money. He suggested we base our decision on who we thought would be the better team player and who might be the most flexible during what will certainly be a difficult project.
We talked about it (with Fern, too), and everyone agrees you’re both deserving.
And we plan to tell that to your boss.
Sorry we couldn’t be more helpful on that front. But maybe you’ll still feel like we were helpful in other ways. We think there’s been a positive change in both of you during your time here. Hopefully you will notice positive change, too.
On that note, we’d love for you to write back to us about your Camp Reboot experience. We hang these letters (the good ones, at least) in our office, like wallpaper, as a reminder of why we do what we do here.
To make things easy on you, we’re leaving paper and a couple of self-addressed stamped envelopes. Take your time. Only about half the people who come here write us back, so we’re used to that by now. Lol!
Fondly,
Bob and Hildy
PS: Thank you for understanding why we keep our marriage a secret.
We’ll do the same for you, rest assured. Not that you’re married.
Yet.
Well, look at that. As goofy as Hildy and Bob are, they sure do pay attention. And if they saw real change in both Sayla and me, who am I to disagree? Even Fern thinks we made progress, although I still can’t breathe into my toes.
Heh.
But besides that, they’re right about one thing: I’m not the same man I was when I showed up here Monday morning, and I think Sayla knows that, too. I hope she also sees I wasn’t the enemy she believed me to be in the first place.
At this point, I’ve got nothing more to prove to her and everything to gain from her trusting me going forward.
At the very least, we can make sure the SACSS visitation goes smoothly.
We owe that to Wilford. He’s a good man with the right intentions for our school.
Sure, sending us here felt like a punishment at first, but maybe the guy had some idea of what he was doing after all.
From inside the cabin, water starts running in the bathroom. Then the shower goes on.
Sayla’s up.
I imagine her wild bedhead and her big, sleepy eyes and her kiss-swollen mouth.
The picture is way too tempting. And I should give her a last bit of privacy anyway.
So I leave the folders from Bob and Hildy on her bed and head out to load up the Buick.
We still have the hour-long ride home. We can talk then.
In the meantime, I’ve got to stop thinking about kissing her.
Yeah, good luck with that, man.
An hour later, I cast a quick glance at the passenger seat.
We’ve been driving for a while now, and Sayla has yet to say a word.
She’s busy gnawing on her lip. Picking at her cuticles.
So I return my focus to the road. I happen to know it’s easier to talk about hard things without making eye contact.
My mom and dad used that tactic on us kids all the time.
Get us in the car. Get us talking.
“You all right?” I ask.
She shifts in her seat, and I can feel her eyes boring into me. “I was just thinking about Bob and Hildy’s note,” she says. “Do you really think they won’t say anything to Wilford about us … being a couple?”
“I think they’ve got a vested interest in keeping quiet,” I say. “Plus I think they genuinely liked us. Then there’s the fact that we aren’t. A couple, I mean.”
“Exactly.” From my peripheral vision, I can tell she’s nodding. “Not a couple.”
“If I’m being honest, though”—I hitch my shoulders—“I don’t really care what anyone else thinks about us. Or about me. As long as I know the truth.”
“Yeah, same,” she says. More nodding. “I don’t care what other people think about me either.”
“Heh.” I let out an amused breath.
“What?”
“I can’t believe you just said that with a straight face.” I eye her sideways. “You care about other people’s opinions more than anyone else I’ve ever met.”
“You really think so?” Her brow creases. “Wait. I just proved your point, didn’t I?”
“That’s not a bad thing,” I tell her. “I like that about you.”
She sighs. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Being overly nice to me,” she says. “Things are going to be complicated enough when we get back to school, with the role change and the SACSS visitation.” Her voice gets quiet. “And the whole FRIG situation.”
“Yeah, see, that’s the thing. I don’t think the FRIG situation has to be complicated.”
“Ha!” Guess it’s her time to be amused. “Well, you’re wrong.”
“We’re both adults, Sayla. We presented our best arguments to Wilford weeks ago.
Bob and Hildy didn't exactly weigh in with a definitive answer. So maybe it’s time to let the chips fall where they may.
He’s going to pick one of us. That’s a fact.
And whoever wins will get to move forward with their plans, and the other one will just have to get over it. ”
“Easier said than done.”
“Not if we don’t make it hard.”
Her shoulders hunch. “It’s just that the theater is in way worse condition than the gym.
” She releases a long sigh. “Your whole department’s in better shape.
Your booster club fundraises more. You have higher ticket sales.
And you earn money from the concession stand.
So if you also end up with the FRIG, too, I’m not sure I could … just get over it.”
I bob my head, hating the sadness in her voice. The last thing I want is for her to feel resigned to disaster. “I’d understand if you couldn’t forgive me at first. And I’d just hope maybe you would someday.”
“What if my side gets the money?” she asks. “Have you thought about that?”