Chapter 34
CHAPTER 34
W e’ve barely unloaded our thrift-store finds when it dawns on me—I haven’t called my parents in forever. I meant to check in while I was in town, but that thought vanished amid all the costume chaos and fun at lunch. Now, the realization that this is my last week as a tree planter—and then I’m headed back to Montreal—hits me like a truck.
I punch in their number, pressing the phone tight to my ear and trying to drown out the bustling chatter of planters and the clang of pots in our makeshift kitchen.
“Hey, Mom…” I force a note of cheeriness, glancing around camp as I speak. A couple of planters wander by, towels draped over their shoulders, probably heading to the creek to rinse off their hangovers from last night. “Yeah, sorry about calling instead of FaceTime. The Wi-Fi connection out here’s been spotty, and I just… wanted to talk.”
I ease down onto an overturned bucket, my toes kicking at the pine needles and gravel beneath my boots. The campfire smoke lingers in the air, and the late-evening sunlight filters through the tall spruce trees, painting streaks of orange across the site.
“Sweetheart! How are you?” Mom’s voice brims with warmth and concern, and a surprising urge to cry grips me. “We read your email about the job offer—congrats, by the way—but you didn’t say much else. Are you excited to come home?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I… yeah, I guess,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “I mean, I’ve been looking forward to it for a while. But, uh, there’s been… a development. I met someone out here.”
A short pause crackles through the line. I can almost hear the worry creeping in. “Oh wow,” Mom says, tone cautious. “That’s wonderful, honey. We’ve barely heard from you lately—so is that why you’ve been too busy to call us the past few weeks?”
I tug at a loose thread on my hoodie. “Maybe,” I hedge, voice dropping as I notice Emma waving to me from across camp. I offer a small smile, but my heart’s not in it. “It’s my foreman—remember the guy I told you about who was tall and good-looking?”
Mom’s chuckle is gentle. “The one from your fishing photo? Blond, handsome… you said he was pretty outdoorsy, right?”
My thoughts drift to that perfect shot I took at his cabin when he was fly-fishing—standing knee-deep in sparkling water under the fading sun, hair curling at the ends, his eyes catching the light. The memory tugs at my chest. “Yeah. That’s Gabe.”
Silence stretches for a beat, and then Dad’s voice rumbles through the speaker. “Just be careful,” he cautions. “You’re about to start a new job soon. This… fling could complicate things.”
I let out a small sigh, dreading hearing my parent’s speech about being careful, my gaze flicking to where Gabe’s Explorer is parked. We’ve been using it as our makeshift ‘home’ for late-night cuddles and stolen moments away from the crowd. The thought of leaving that behind—leaving him behind—makes my stomach twist. “I know, Dad,” I manage, forcing a wry smile that I know they can’t see.
Mom’s voice comes through steady and calm, though I can still hear a hint of concern beneath her words. “We’re proud of you for doing this, Soleil. Really. You followed your heart and took on something completely different. But now it’s time for you to come back home—to get that real job you’ve been working toward.” She hesitates for half a beat, like she’s deciding how blunt to be. “I know you’re fond of him, honey, but I just don’t want to see you get your heart broken.”
I clench my jaw, the words stinging more than I’d like to admit. “I promise… I’m not trying to,” I whisper, feeling the weight of unspoken emotions pressing on my chest. Am I falling for Gabe? I can’t even bring myself to say it out loud, not to them—and not to myself, really.
Dad’s tone softens. “If this young man is the real deal, I’m sure you’ll figure it out together. In your own time.”
My vision blurs with tears I refuse to let fall. “Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom. I’ll call you once I’m back in Montreal.”
“Of course,” Mom says, a smile in her voice. “We love you.”
“Love you too,” I murmur, ending the call with trembling fingers.
I take a long breath and stuff my phone into my hoodie pocket. When I look up, Gabe’s standing a few yards away, a silent question in his eyes. He can probably see the tears threatening to spill, the worry etched in every line of my face. He doesn’t say a word; he just steps toward me and sets down whatever gear he’s carrying.
For a moment, I try to swallow down the chaos bubbling inside me, but I can’t hold it anymore. All the emotions—fear, sadness, the ache of leaving—come crashing in at once. My chest tightens, and before I know it, the first sob escapes.
Gabe’s expression shifts to one of concern as he closes the space between us. “Hey…” he murmurs, brow furrowing.
I open my mouth to say I’m fine , but I can’t form the words. Instead, a wave of tears breaks free, and I press my trembling hands over my mouth to stifle the sound. It does nothing to stop the flood.
He’s there, wrapping me in a gentle, almost protective hug. “Shhh,” he soothes, one large hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head. “I’ve got you, Sunshine.”
I bury my face in his chest, tears spilling from me in harsh, uneven sobs that seem to echo through the stillness around us. The worn fabric of his shirt presses against my cheek, carrying his familiar and comforting scent. He says nothing—just stands there, arms wrapped around me, letting me unravel against his warmth.
Little by little, the tension I’ve been carrying eases, and each broken sob feels like a release I’ve been denying myself for far too long. There’s no judgment, no rush—only his warmth and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
Eventually, my tears slow, and I manage a ragged inhale.
Gabe eases back just enough to look at me, his thumbs brushing away the wetness on my cheeks. “Talk to me,” he says quietly.
I shake my head, swallowing hard. “I… can’t,” I whisper, my voice still unsteady. Not yet , I think. I’m not ready to say all the things I’m feeling for you .
He searches my face for a long moment, then nods, as if understanding there’s more than I can explain right now. His arms tighten around me once again, and I let out a shuddering breath, leaning into the safety of his embrace.
“Alright,” he murmurs, pulling me in tighter against his chest, like he knows exactly what I’m struggling not to say. His hand moves in slow circles along my back, steady, comforting. “You don’t have to talk.” A beat of silence passes, his chin resting lightly against the top of my head. Then, almost too quietly, he adds, “Man… this is gonna suck when you actually leave, isn’t it?”