December 31, Wednesday
case packing the process of boxing bottles for storage or shipping
THE LAKE dock jutted out into the dark water, its weathered boards creaking under the weight of a dozen campers bundled against the chill. The Oneys had staked out prime viewing territory, spreading blankets and setting up folding chairs for the town's New Year's Eve fireworks display.
I sat between Tracy and Poppy, a thermos of hot chocolate warming my hands. This was my last night in Kentucky. Tomorrow morning, I'd point my van west and leave all of this behind.
The thought sat heavy in my chest.
"Best spot on the lake," Lou announced proudly, adjusting his camp chair. "Been coming here for New Year's for fifteen years."
"I hope they're good this year," Poppy said, "so you'll remember us, Bernadette."
I gave her a squeeze. "How could I forget you, Poppy?"
"Hey." A familiar voice came from behind us on the dock. "Can I crash this party?"
I turned to see Jett standing there, hands in his coat pockets. My heart jumped at the sight of him—I hadn't expected to see him again before I left.
"Sure," I managed, trying to sound casual despite the sudden acceleration of my pulse.
Lou and Tracy immediately made room, rearranging chairs with knowing smiles. Jett settled beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched, and pulled something from his jacket.
The bottle of Eagle Rare 25.
"You brought that?" I stared at the bottle we'd stood in line for hours to obtain.
"Seemed like the right occasion." He produced a stack of small plastic cups and poured a measure into each, then passed them around to the adults. Then he leaned close to my ear. "For new beginnings."
We sipped the bourbon slowly, letting it warm us from the inside. It tasted expensive and complex, layers of flavor I didn't have words for.
"I'm glad you came," I ventured.
"I came because I have a problem," Jett said quietly, his eyes on the dark lake.
"What is it?"
"I can't bear for you to leave." He turned to face me, his expression raw and honest. "I understand why you're going, but I can't stand the thought of you driving away tomorrow and never coming back."
My heart thumped so hard I was sure everyone on the dock could hear it. "Jett—"
"Is there anything I can do or say to make you stay?"
We moved closer together without conscious decision, drawn by gravity or desire or six months of building feelings neither of us had fully acknowledged.
When our lips met, the cold disappeared, the other campers faded away, and there was only this—the warmth of his mouth, the rightness of his hands cradling my face, the way kissing him felt like coming home.
When we finally pulled apart, both breathless, I rested my forehead against his.
"I have to go back," I whispered. "I have to finish my degree. Not for anyone else—for myself. To prove I can complete something I started."
He sighed, his breath warm against my face. "I know."
"I'm sorry—"
"Don't be sorry." He pulled back to look at me. "There's only one thing to be done, then."
"What's that?"
"I'll have to come to Arizona to visit. When the bees allow." His mouth quirked into a hopeful smile. "If you'll have me."
"Yes." The word burst out of me like a dam breaking. "Yes, please. Come visit. Come often. Come whenever you can."
"It's a deal." He kissed me again, softer this time, sealing the promise.
Around us, the other campers pretended not to notice, though I caught Tracy wiping her eyes and Lou grinning like he'd orchestrated the whole thing.
As midnight approached, someone turned on a radio, the announcer counting down from Times Square. The entire dock joined in, voices rising together in the cold night air.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!"
Jett's hand found mine, fingers intertwining.
"Seven! Six! Five!"
Poppy bounced with excitement, her red curls escaping from her winter hat.
"Four! Three! Two!"
"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Fireworks exploded over the lake, brilliant colors reflecting off the dark water—reds and golds and greens, cascading sparks that lit up the Kentucky sky. The crowd cheered, strangers hugging strangers, celebrating the death of one year and the birth of another.
Jett pulled me close and kissed me as fireworks bloomed overhead, and for a moment everything was perfect—the cold, the beauty, the promise of what might come next.
When the last firework faded and the crowd began dispersing back to their campers and cars, Jett and I walked slowly toward my van, neither of us ready to say goodnight.
"I don't like the thought of you spending another cold night in your van alone," he said when we reached it. "Is there room for two?"
I smiled up at him, my heart full despite the impending goodbye. "We'll make room."
We climbed into the van together. Jett wrapped his arms around me, and I settled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Outside, Kentucky was celebrating the new year. Tomorrow, I'd leave this place. But tonight, I was exactly where I needed to be.
And maybe that's how life works. Maybe you set out searching for answers and discover that the real gift is in the journey itself.
Safe travels on your journey, my friend.
-The End-