Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
W e roll into camp just as the sun dips behind the tree line late in the afternoon, casting the scattered tents in a cool afternoon shadow. It feels quiet—too quiet. Most of the planters are still off, squeezing every last bit out of their break before the summer contract kicks in. A few familiar faces wave from their tents or linger around the firepit, but Emma’s still road-tripping and should be back in two days. Which means I’m left overthinking everything we did this weekend, without having someone like Emma to bounce my worries off of… And hear about what’s going on with her and Logan.
And as if there isn’t enough to make my anxiety spiral, the silence on the drive to camp was suffocating. Which was so different from the laughter and easy conversation we had when we left for the cabin a few days earlier. Now, this nagging worry sits heavy in my chest, whispering to that part of my brain that likes to self-sabotage—telling me I’ve put too many eggs in this basket.
Maybe the silence in the car wasn’t just silence. Maybe it was him already pulling away, already deciding to ignore whatever this is. Maybe he’s avoiding talking about it because if he doesn’t bring it up, then it doesn’t have to be real—doesn’t have to mean anything. Because I’m leaving soon, and to him, this was probably just a summer thing, something easy to let fade out. Maybe he’s already moved on in his head, already filed me away as just another planter—and if that’s the case, maybe I should do the same. Just go back to being his worker, and he can go back to being my foreman. Professional. Simple.
It would be easier that way.
I think.
Gabe pulls into his usual spot and hops out, stretching his arms overhead. My eyes flick to him—those arms that were wrapped around me just hours ago, back at the cabin, when our only worry was if we had time for one more kiss. Now, back at camp, the countdown on our time together feels louder than ever. And with the shift in his energy, it almost feels like that clock’s already hit zero.
He glances over at me. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly, brushing past him before he can read too much into my tone. The self-doubt I’m holding on to is now screaming into my brain: See? It’s happening! He’s already pulling away . Maybe it’s better if I start letting him off the hook now, before it hurts even more.
“Look, I’m gonna—” he starts, but I cut him off with a quick nod.
“Sure,” I murmur, keeping my tone light, even though it feels like everything inside me is twisting. “I’m… heading to the kitchen. Figured I’d grab something to eat before bed.”
He hesitates, his brow creasing like he wants to say more. “Okay,” he finally says, his voice quieter now.
I drift to the makeshift kitchen tent, finding it empty except for a few trays of cold cuts, cheese, and sandwich items, half-empty cereal boxes, and milk. There’s no one cooking tonight, so it’s just a light dinner until planting starts up again. I grab a box of Frosted Flakes and pour myself a bowl, the sugary comfort food feeling like my only salvation for this emptiness I’m feeling in the pit of my stomach. I slump onto one of the wooden benches, cradling the bowl in my hands. But my appetite fades under the weight of my thoughts, my spoon scraping lazily at the bottom. Eventually, I toss the half-eaten remains in the trash, rinsing the bowl and spoon before stepping back outside.
The cool late-afternoon air brushes over my skin as I cross my arms tightly over my chest. My mind is already spiralling—should I just slip into my tent and hide? Avoid the awkwardness of having to explain why we don’t need to “pursue this” anymore?
As I wander toward the tents, lost in my head, his voice cuts through the quiet.
“Hey, where ya going?”
I freeze mid-step, turning to face him. “I… I was just gonna chill in my tent,” I stammer, attempting to sound casual. “Long day. Figured I’d, y’know, sort out my thoughts.”
He arches a brow, that familiar teasing glint in his eyes. “And where exactly do you think you’re sleeping tonight, Sunshine?”
“In my tent. Obviously.”
He smirks, tilting his head toward the tent area. “What tent?”
My gaze snaps behind me, to the empty space where my tent should be, and my heart sinks. My tent is gone.
“Why’d you take it down?” I ask, spinning back to him. If I weren’t romantically involved with him, this would be an HR infraction, I laugh to myself. But then again, half of what we’re doing would probably break every HR rule on the books.
“Because you’re not sleeping there,” he says simply, jerking his head toward his SUV. “You’re coming with me. If I only get ten more days with you, I’m going to make them count. Now get your ass over here, I’ve got something to show you.”
Relief washes over me, so sudden and overwhelming that I can’t stop the small smile spreading across my lips. “Are you sure?” I ask softly, hesitating. I want to ask him why—why he’s doing this—but I bite the question back, letting him take the lead.
He doesn’t answer, just unlocks the SUV and gestures toward the back. With a soft click, I open the hatch—and my heart stutters. A brand-new double inflatable mattress lies inside, blankets and my sleeping bag piled haphazardly at the foot. LED lights are strung along the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the space. I step closer, taking it all in, realizing he must’ve done this during his “errands.” He packed up my tent, brought everything over, and made sure I’d have exactly what I needed tonight, and the rest of the time I’m here.
He slips in behind me, his presence warming the air before I even realize he’s there. His hand brushes my jaw, gently tilting my face toward him. Every breath I’ve been holding spills out in a rush as his lips touch mine—soft and seeking at first.
I turn toward him, and everything shifts. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, leaving me lightheaded. The day, the tension, the questions—it all melts away when he kisses me like this. When he finally pulls back, his eyes meet mine, and everything I need to know is there.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice tight with emotion. “I needed this tonight.”
His hand lingers at my waist, his expression softening. “Part of me already hurts at the thought of losing you so soon,” he admits, his voice low. “But I’m not gonna hold you back. I just hope we can keep this going until we figure it out.”
I climb onto the makeshift bed, settling in as he joins me, pulling the door closed behind us, leaving just the two of us in this bubble.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his hand finding my stomach as I stretch onto my back.
I nod, covering his hand with mine. “Better than okay.”
He grins, that easy, slow smile that always makes my chest ache. “Good.” He shifts closer, his leg brushing against mine in the tight space. “Because you’re the big spoon this time.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, and I snuggle closer, wrapping my arm around him. “Fine,” I tease. “But only because you took down my tent for me. I was dreading the day I’d have to figure out how to pack it up.”