Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BLAZES
CAMDEN
Ever since my mom died, I didn’t know who I was.
Every part of me felt unmoored, like someone had left me bobbing out in the middle of Lake Superior with no anchor in sight.
My siblings and I were all floundering, trying to keep my dad afloat while barely keeping our own heads above the surface.
I’d been back and forth from France, trying to convince myself that I needed to carry on—my mom would want that—but it wasn’t working.
It was hard to be home and even harder to leave.
This time was especially hard. It was our first trip back to Windy Harbor without Mom.
She loved this place. She loved any chance to be by the water, and the view from our house was her favorite.
I could hear her laughter everywhere, her insistence that we go down to the water no matter what the weather was like, her humming as she brushed the sand that we’d missed off of us before letting us back inside.
Without her, Windy Harbor felt hollow.
Even though we kept things moving, stayed active, and tried to fill the spaces, the walls echoed with all that was missing––our life here with her.
We were all trying our best. But we were unraveling.
Noah was going through a breakup with his long-term girlfriend, Margo, and she was pregnant.
Tully was on a professional hockey team, but he was partying too much and getting in too many fights on the ice.
Goldie looked like the spark had gone out of her eyes.
She had finished school and was considering taking a job in California, but I couldn’t tell if she was excited about it or just trying to keep moving like I was.
Dylan had just announced to the family that he wasn’t going back to the U of M…
he was opening a surf shop in California. Totally left field.
My poor dad. He was quieter than I’d ever seen him.
He worked way too hard and was insistent that we not worry about him, but we all did.
He looked haggard, but any time any of us tried to stick around to be there for him, it seemed like we just upset him more.
He wanted to be together when it worked out for us, but he also wanted us to keep our commitments and live our lives.
None of us knew the right thing to do.
It felt like all of us were just going through the motions. When everyone finally went to bed, I felt the walls closing in on me.
I went outside and found myself walking toward one of the places I’d always felt carefree––the tree house.
This place had been a refuge when I was a kid.
I’d spent many days there with my brothers and sister, and with Jackson and Juju.
In the early days of building it, sometimes I felt like the entire world was no bigger than the boards under us and the sound of the lake in the distance.
The ladder creaked under my weight as I climbed. When I reached the top, I pulled myself inside, feeling like a giant in the small space. And then I froze.
Because Juju was already there.
She whipped her head toward me, her eyes wide. “Camden?”
The last couple of times I’d seen her, I had been awful. She’d tried to comfort me when Mom died, and I’d shoved away any kind of sympathy. Throughout the past year, she’d tried again to show kindness to me, and I hadn’t been exactly the worst, but I hadn’t been warm either.
I didn’t know why the thought of her comforting me made me feel like I’d break, and there’d be no fitting myself back together.
“Juju.” My throat was dry. “I didn’t think you guys were in town.”
She looked stunning. As always. It hurt to look at her. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, the ends swishing around her arms. She wore a fitted tracksuit, and I wanted to drink her in but tried really hard not to stare at her.
“My parents and I got in tonight. Jackson will be here a little later,” she said. “Sorry. I know it’s probably weird that I’m here. I just…still like to come out here sometimes.”
“I get it.”
The silence between us stretched, broken only by the faint groan of the boards under us. I didn’t know whether to back out and pretend I’d never come or to make an effort.
Juju decided for me. She sat on one of the pillows, tucked her legs to the side, and asked quietly, “You’ve been in France?”
I nodded and sat down across from her. The tree house had so much less space now than when we were kids.
“Mostly,” I said. “I’m back and forth a lot. Not quite sure where I’m sticking.”
Something in her eyes flickered. Not pity so much as understanding. “I get that.”
“Yeah? You’re done with school, right?”
She nodded. “I’m glad to be back in St. Paul. I’m working for a family restaurant…it’s not that great.” She crinkled her nose. “But the experience is great…good practice. I…I’d love to open a cafe. Here…in Windy Harbor.”
She looked at me shyly.
“Really? That’s great. You should. You’d kill it.”
Her lips parted slightly, like maybe she hadn’t expected me to back her up. “You really think so?”
“I know it. You’d be incredible at it. You have everything it takes.”
She let out a long exhale. “Wow. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you.”
I gave her the slightest nod.
“You know that old coffee shop that closed? It’s been a lot of things––Superior Grind…Black Bear Coffee––I can’t remember what all.” She waved her hand. “Anyway, it’s empty again, and I think I’m going to try to get in there.”
“Juju. That’s amazing. Really. Do it.”
The boards creaked as we shifted closer.
The walls seemed to shrink. Moonlight poured in through the cracks in the wood, and the twinkle lights made her face look silver.
For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other.
I noticed how her lashes curled against her cheeks, the cupid’s bow in her top lip, her full lower lip…
Her gaze flicked to my mouth, and my chest constricted. I always felt like I was doing something wrong when I let myself imagine this, but she was here, in front of me, and this was very real.
“Camden,” she whispered.
I leaned in before I could think better of it, closing the distance until I could feel the warmth of her breath. I could almost taste the promise of her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
And then––POP.
We both jolted, eyes huge.
“That didn’t sound good,” I muttered. I stood up and held out my hand.
She took it and stood, looking at the floorboards.
The tree house groaned.
“We’ve gotta go. I think it’s not strong enough to hold us anymore.”
We hurried to the opening, and I helped Juju to the ladder, holding the top of it steady as she climbed down, and then I followed. The second my feet hit the ground, we heard another loud crack.
We spun around to see the floor of the tree house––the exact spot we’d almost kissed moments before––splinter and collapse, crashing to the ground in a heap of boards and nails. Dust puffed up around us, and Juju grabbed my arm with a gasp.
I glanced at her, and she looked crushed.
“I can’t believe it,” she breathed.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve never gone up there. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s not your fault. I mean, neither of us probably should’ve been up there, since we built it years ago. The poor thing badly needed an update.”
For a moment, we just stood there, both of us rattled. Then she looked at me, and her expression shifted. Regret and maybe a little bit of panic. Her grip on my arm loosened, and her hand dropped to her side.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I don’t know what I was thinking up there. I mean…” She swallowed, hugging her arms around herself. “Well, I have a boyfriend, and…”
The words sliced through me. Of course she did. Why wouldn’t she?
I forced my jaw to unclench and tried to play it cool, even though my pulse was still going nuts from everything that had happened in the past ten minutes.
“Right,” I said flatly. “It was just…” I shook my head. “Something to do. Passing time. There’s not much to do in Windy Harbor…you were there.”
Fuck, the more I said, the worse it got.
Her lips tightened. “Yeah. Exactly.” She laughed sharply. “God knows I feel absolutely nothing for you either. It was just a lapse in judgment…on both our parts.”
My brain was roaring that there’d been no lapse in judgment where I was concerned, but how emphatically she’d stated that she felt nothing for me forced me not to let that out.
“Don’t worry about it. We all lose our way at one point or another.”
She let out another laugh that felt more like a slap.
“You don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve found my way again. Won’t make that mistake again.”
“Guess that boyfriend isn’t doing the best job if you’re looking for kisses elsewhere.”
“Nah, more like I was missing him, and you were there.”
She walked away, leaving me standing there with the rubble. We’d not only destroyed the tree house…we’d torched our short-lived reconciliation.