Epilogue
“You…” I manage between panting breaths. “Are lucky…I love you.”
Instead of my darling boyfriend, at whom the comment is directed, it’s Benny Beneventi who replies.
“I don’t love Finn yet. Someone remind me why I’m here?”
Reese’s boyfriend is less outdoorsy than I was, pre–Wild Adventures. I think Finn expected they’d bond over all the activities he planned for our fall break in Vermont, fooled by Benny arriving at the Burlington airport already wearing a flannel and hiking boots. Finn didn’t realize that was only the city boy’s Rugged Outdoorsman cosplay, the exact same outfit he’d worn the first time he and Reese ever hiked together.
“Basic safety protocol, Norberto,” I say, speech coming easier now as we get to a flatter part of the trail. “When planning a camping trip, you always invite at least one person you can outrun. You know, in case of a bear encounter.”
Benny scoffs. “Joke’s on you. I watched this show where a girl came across a bear in the wild, and now I know you’re not supposed to run from them. You just start yelling a bunch of pop culture opinions and annoy the bear into running from you.”
The whole group laughs while I groan. But when I catch Finn’s knowing look, I give him a wink. We both know I have no shame about my now-infamous black bear showdown.
We also know that as much as I complain any time he drags me out hiking or camping, I love this shit.
I thought it was a long shot to get everyone into this trip idea, back in the summer when I proposed it. No more than a month into Finn’s and my long-distance relationship, it was ambitious to look at fall break plans together. But my new financial aid and scholarship setup had just been finalized, ensuring that not only could I afford to go back to Oliver College, but I wouldn’t have to worry about money for the rest of my time there. My nightly video call dates with my beautiful grumpy man were going splendidly. I was feeling grand and making plans.
My childhood besties, Reese and Clara, were immediately interested in spending a long weekend in Finn’s hometown, eager as they were to meet the boyfriend they’d watched me become a lovesick fool for on TV. Benny goes where Reese goes. More surprising, though, was being able to get Harper, Evan, and Zeke here. Harper and I have talked regularly since Wild Adventures ended, and through her, I’ve gotten to know Evan more. The two of them live only a state apart and have stayed true to their plans to keep hiking together.
Zeke was more of a wild card. I think the guy needed someone to talk to after the show was over, to parse out the overwhelming experience of it all, and he and his partner didn’t leave on the best terms, after she cheated them out of a win. Enter Finn. Borrow a guy’s fountain pen one time, become his amateur therapist for life. But the other guy’s grown on him, enough that Finn asked another month or so later if he could extend a fall break invite to Zeke.
No regrets so far. Not on the invite list, anyway. Minor regrets about giving Finn such free rein over the itinerary. We’re staying in his mom’s basement most of the weekend, because she is an actual angel on earth and hostess with the mostest delicious homemade cinnamon rolls. But tonight, we’re revisiting our relationship’s roots—and giving some of the group a more rustic experience than they bargained for.
“It’s beautiful out here,” Reese says, looking around at the leaves in all shades of red, orange, yellow. A few lingering green, some brown too. All of it combining to create a ridiculously picturesque Fall In Vermont Experience.
Hopefully that’ll cushion the blow when I have to tell her about packing out your used toilet paper.
“Yeah, you all came at the perfect time,” Finn says. “Pretty colors to see, but we won’t need to put heat packs in our sleeping bags just yet.”
“If anyone does get too cold tonight, you can borrow Reese,” Benny calls out. “She’s an actual furnace in her sleep.”
“I can’t help it!” Reese smacks her guy on the arm. He blows a kiss to her.
“And if anyone can’t fall asleep in total silence, you can borrow Natalie,” Finn adds, letting out an obnoxious fake snore I’m sure is like no sound I’ve ever made.
“My allergies have improved, I’ll have you know!” I shoot him a glare as the group dissolves into laughter.
Harper, Evan, Zeke, Finn, and I all carry the sleeping bags, tents, and almost everything else in our fancy backpacking packs that we got to keep after Wild Adventures. We’re only camping for one night, but eight people require a lot of stuff. And when I’d asked the other three what kind of luggage they were bringing, it was suitcases and small, school-size backpacks. So they’ve been responsible for their clothes and personal items, with the former Co-EdVenturers taking the bulk of the equipment and food.
Backcountry backpacking is not the easiest way to introduce my indoorsy friends to camping. But it is a fitting introduction to Finn Markum as a human.
A human who suddenly appears at my side, sliding his palm against mine and interlacing our fingers. I pretend I’m not going to accept after that snoring callout, but he isn’t fooled. The fun thing about being long distance most of the time is that small moments of real, tangible connection like this still give me butterflies.
“Hey.” He presses a quick kiss to my cheek, and I’m pretty sure I hear Reese let out a swooning sigh a few steps behind us. “We’re almost there. I promise you’re going to love it. I brought stuff for mushroom carbonara over the campfire for dinner.”
I raise a brow, impressed at this news. “Wow, throwback. Did you forage the shrooms yourself?”
He smirks. “Not this time. But I also brought heat packs in case temps do drop after all, and there’s plenty of water, and some decks of cards if anyone gets bored, and—”
“Hey,” I whisper, leaning in to his side as I give his hand a squeeze. “I’m supposed to be the anxious one here. Stop trying to steal my role.”
Finn huffs a soft laugh, still a little startled every time I poke fun at my own anxiety. A thing I’ve been doing more and more as I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve actually started to treat it with one of the college counseling center’s therapists since returning to school, and more recently, an outside psychiatrist she referred me to. I’m not on any meds yet, but it’s a possibility I’m exploring. And working with Lora, my therapist, has already changed the whole game.
I’m talking about things I never have with a professional, barely have with anyone but a select few who are all on this camping trip. My parents and difficult childhood, Granny Star, freshman year, the brain spirals and panic and ever-mounting list of worries all come up. Our biweekly sessions, covered in my tuition and fees, lessen the weight I’ve been carrying like twelve completely full backpacking packs at once, for all these years.
And make it easier for me to find a way to laugh through it, like I do with everything in my life, good or bad. No longer am I laughing to hide the hard stuff.
Finn shakes his head. “I just want everyone to have a good time. I wouldn’t say I’m anxious about it. Just…”
“Nervous,” I fill in.
He grunts.
“Worried.”
An unintelligible grumble.
“Unsettled.”
Before he can make another one of his growly noises and get me way too hot and bothered in the company of guests, I cut him off with a firm, quick kiss.
“Should we give you all privacy?” Harper asks from the back of the group in her usual monotone. But I can hear the snark. “Long distance is hard. Not getting to do all this touchy-feely stuff often. Don’t let us stop you. If the tent’s a-rockin’—”
“Harps, you’re going to make Finn’s head explode,” I cut her off, giving my guy a pat on his blushing cheek. “All this blood rushing to his face and ears can’t be good for him.”
“I’m resisting a really suggestive joke right now, even though you set it up perfectly, and I’m doing that for you, Finn. I hope you’re happy,” she says.
“Very,” Finn calls back, overly loud and turning to face her.
“Please feel free to share the joke with me individually,” Zeke pipes up. “I’m free all night and also forever.”
His Harper crush hasn’t gone away, but I think he also just enjoys making her squirm with declarations like that. The group keeps bantering back and forth as we continue our hike through the gorgeous Green Mountains, which I’m so glad to be seeing at last. Finn has visited me in Boston since we both went back to school, driving the almost four hours down on a Friday and back on a Sunday each time. But I don’t have a car and haven’t quite figured out a reasonable way to get up here for a weekend. I can’t afford plane tickets like the ones I splurged on for this trip very often, though my scholarship and the raise I’ve earned since being back at Body Wonderland have made it way more possible.
So much feels possible now, it’s almost jarring. Amazing what tending to your crumbling mental health and accepting help will do. My classes are even going pretty well this semester, and I have a small role in an upcoming show on campus.
The only area that hasn’t seen significant change is my relationship with my parents. When I returned after Wild Adventures, there was no celebration of my having won a $100,000 scholarship on a reality show. Said scholarship was still going toward a school and program that is a bad idea in their eyes, and probably always will be. But I’m becoming better at accepting that this is their issue, not a reflection of the value of me or my choices.
This is another therapy lesson, of course. But it’s also a Finn lesson. A part of being with someone who owes me nothing, has nothing tying me to him through biology or history. Nothing keeping him in my life but the fact that he really, really wants to be here. Really, really likes me—loves me, even, a feeling we both finally admitted to last month—for everything I am, good and bad, messy and put-together. It’s revolutionary. It’s eye-opening.
It’s the wildest adventure I’ve ever been on.
We reach our campsite, a spot where Finn and his dad stayed multiple times throughout his childhood. I’m honored that he’d bring us here, share this piece of his life and the special bond he had with his father. He doesn’t seem to feel sad about it, though I’m watching closely all evening. Looking for a flicker of grief—depression, anger, any of its associated emotions—as we set up tents, build a fire, make dinner, then s’mores, and talk and laugh together. Nighttime sets in, sunset fading into a star-covered sky.
It’s only when the stars are brightest, when the fire has almost burned out, and all our tired friends have said goodnights and split off for our respective sleeping quarters, that I catch Finn alone. I know I’ll get him to myself the rest of the night, when we crawl into our tent together just like the good old days of four months ago. But when I’m walking back from brushing my teeth and doing the rest of my nightly routine, I spot his familiar silhouette standing alone, head tipped back.
I drag my feet a little, making sure not to accidentally sneak up on him. When I’m almost at his side, he doesn’t even turn to see that it’s me. Just holds his arm out, ready for me to tuck myself under it.
“What if I’d been Zeke?” I tease, my whisper sounding too loud in the peaceful night. It feels quieter here than it did on the AT. Or maybe that’s just my own mind.
“Then I would’ve heard your thundering elephant walk from half a mile away and kindly pointed you toward your tent,” he whispers back, eyes still on the stars.
I smile and look up too, taking in the sparkling tapestry that, no matter where I’m looking at it, will always take me back to that night in the Smokies with Finn.
“Have you found the Big Dipper yet?” I ask.
He points to it right away, like I knew he would. I track its shape with my eyes from star to star, corner to corner of the “dipper” piece, then on out to the handle. The very same stars a tiny Finn and his hero used to gaze at, sometimes from this very same spot.
I tighten my arms where they’re looped around Finn’s middle, holding him as close as I can.
“You know,” Finn says after we’ve been here so long I’m nearly dizzy, the twinkling dots overhead blurring together before my eyes. “I am lucky you love me.”
I tip my chin down a little, let it rest on his chest so I’m looking only as far up as his face. The strain in my neck from all the time it was tipped back is apparent now, and before I’ve so much as winced at it, Finn brings his hand up and massages my nape. At last, he brings his gaze down to meet mine.
“I’m lucky to love you,” I reply. “And lucky you love me too.”
“Even though I make you go camping when you’re trying to have a restful weekend with your friends?” he teases, eyes tracing my face with so much affection, it makes my heart ache in the best way.
“Especially because you take me camping,” I say, standing on tiptoes to brush my lips over his. “I actually do my best resting in sleeping bags.” Kiss. “When two are zipped together.” Kiss. “And there’s a devastatingly handsome man in there to wrap me in his arms and keep me warm.”
Finn cups my face then and claims my lips with his, deep, slow, all-consuming. Perfect.
“So, beautiful,” he murmurs, barely a breath between us. “My tent or yours?”
I glance at the single tent we were granted by the Wild Adventures gods in the backpack Hunger Games. Finn superglued its one broken clip back together after filming, and it looks good as new, but also like an old friend I haven’t visited in too long.
With a smirk, I answer, “Both.”