24. Jack
TWENTY-FOUR
Jack
I’d learned a few things about myself from living with Natalie Breckenridge.
One. I loved that she was a formidable opponent. As exhibited by our current standings in Camp Wars and in every argument we’d ever had. It both made me want to put up resistance and bow down to her will at the same time. It was confusing. And a little hot.
Two. It was getting harder and harder to stay away from her.
That meant I wanted to stick around the cabin when she was home.
And I wanted to check in with her throughout the day.
I even went so far as to suggest we combine our two activities one day, because painting on a motorboat made perfect sense.
I’d played that off as a joke, but was I joking? Kind of.
Three. I didn’t like to see her upset. This included her being angry, sad, or unfulfilled. And that was the vibe she gave off lately, as if something were missing for her. And just as was my role in this camp as Mr. Fix-it, I wanted to figure out exactly how to rectify that.
It had been a week since our craft cabin hookup, and things were good. Nat and I maneuvered around the cabin easily—especially after I’d stopped storing all my work shit in the living room and took extra time to keep my space clean.
Another unexpected benefit was how the tidy environment did wonders for my mental health.
I’d made a project list of things I could do to improve my own space, not just the ones I’d been working on for the camp.
I realized just how long I’d been putting off improving my own living situation and chastised myself for doing so.
I didn’t need to work myself to the bone on the camp every day.
I could do that and work myself to the bone on my own place sometimes.
I still needed to finish Nat’s cabin first before I even thought about retiling my bathroom or changing out the shitty sink in my kitchen.
Thankfully, the cabin was coming along. She’d helped me with parts that didn’t require a contractor and occasionally hung out with me while I worked, asking questions and handing me tools I couldn’t reach. It was nice.
I’d told myself she was spending time with me only because she wanted her space back sooner, so I didn’t make anything of it.
But as much as I tried to tell myself there was nothing there, the one thing I couldn’t write off was my frequent need to keep up with her social media account.
She’d been making basic posts, but there hadn’t been much heart behind them, and considering I knew where she was, I could tell they had been planned so she could post them when she wasn’t traveling as much.
I started to question if she’d been uninspired lately, and the residual guilt from the way I’d treated her made me realize it was probably partially my fault.
But things had been good between us since I’d apologized, and her posts remained the same, so maybe I had nothing to do with it.
Either way, I was resolved to get to the bottom of it.
“We’re going out tomorrow, Breckenridge. Pack an overnight bag.” I flopped onto my shitty couch.
She stopped scrolling on her phone and turned to me, her face deadpan. “I can’t say I didn’t know this was coming. This is when you kill me, right?”
“Why would I want you to pack if I wanted to kill you?”
She gave me a look that said, come on. “To make it look like it was an accident.”
I tapped my chin, looking to the ceiling as if I were pondering this. “I guess you’re going to have to trust me.” I didn’t give her a chance to retort as I left the room. “Noon tomorrow, Nat. Be ready.”
All was quiet around us as we climbed single file up the rustic ladder to the fire lookout tower where I’d secured our lodging.
Our positioning meant that I knew Nat was staring at my ass, making me grin as I climbed each rung.
I tried not to let that minor distraction trip me up, reminding myself to stay balanced to avoid falling back under the weight of my heavy hiking backpack.
We’d hiked a mile in on a trail that didn’t allow cars. Good thing Nat was outdoorsy. She’d perked up when I’d told her to bring her hiking shoes today instead of her pink tennis shoes. I could tell she was curious, but she didn’t pester me to ruin the surprise, which I’d appreciated.
I was excited to show Nat this place. She’d been all over the place, but after scouring her socials, I was fairly confident she’d never been to a fire watch.
The location was remote and a little primitive.
The brush was overgrown with weeds and fallen tree branches.
Nat and I cleared the path as we went. We stood at the base of the fire watch.
It was a medium height at close to forty feet up in the air, with a single ladder.
This particular watch was being transitioned into a rental, but that also meant it hadn’t been serviced or maintained recently.
So I went first and made sure everything was safe and not already occupied by wildlife.
We opened the door and put down our packs and Nat’s gasp of excitement set my heart racing.
She took my hand and dragged me to the windows overlooking the valley that stretched out below us for miles, her face practically glued to the view.
Her reaction pulled a smile from my lips.
The confirmation that I knew her made me want to puff out my chest. I had imagined her enjoying the panoramic view that only a place like this could offer, but it was a massive relief to see the happiness written on her face.
She went to the view and pointed out Mount Hood and Mount Jefferson off in the distance.
“How did you find this place?” she asked, tucking a rogue chunk of her silky hair behind her ears.
I cleared my throat outside the door. “One of my bird-watching friends used to work for the Forest Service when this was active. There are twenty or so fire watches that can be rented out year-round, and soon this will be one of them.” I leaned in conspiratorially.
“What I’m saying is, it pays to know bird nerds. ”
Nat scoffed and patted my shoulder condescendingly, but it was in good fun. “Well, this certainly looks familiar.” She gestured between the two small beds on separate walls from each other.
I’d been so focused on her reaction, I hadn’t taken in the space fully. I hadn’t considered the bed situation before and knew some fire watches only had one bed. It was perfect that ours had two, so she knew that wasn’t my intention for setting this excursion up.
She pulled her lip into her mouth as she met my eyes. Was there a question in that look?
I dropped my backpack on the bed closest to me. “This one’s mine.”
She took a seat on the bed across the way without argument and tapped the heel of her boot against the rustic wood grain.
The room was slightly smaller than the room we shared at home. The living quarters weren’t much, but it wasn’t about the accommodations. This was about the view and the experience. Nat tilted her head against the window, looking out over the vast Pacific Northwest.
I pulled out a pair of binoculars and handed them to Nat, then grabbed my own—sans eyeblack this time.
I tilted my head toward the door and we moved outside, leaning against the railing to take in the windowless view.
Nat’s elbow bumped into mine and I held my breath as she left it pressed against me.
Everything felt like a watercolor painting, treetops tickling the sky, a mirrored lake reflecting the sun.
Flocks of birds navigated through puffy clouds and mountains stood at attention, turning the serene sweeping hillside into jagged terrain.
“I can’t believe you planned all this,” she said in an awe-tinged tone.
“Just wait until later.” I waggled my eyebrows at her, trying to cut some of the tension, excited to see her reaction tonight.
Nat’s eye roll was as predictable as it was adorable. By the time we made our way through the woods to the truck, I wondered just how many more of those looks I was going to get.
Nat and I pulled up to the viewpoint at dusk to find more than a dozen vehicles ready to take in the rare passing of a comet.
These kinds of celestial events were perfect for outdoorsy people, and I knew she’d love it.
We could have stayed at the fire watch, but Nat’s content always placed a spotlight on people’s stories, so I’d hoped it would be like this.
As if reading my mind, Nat said, “This is one of the things I love about events like this. It brings people together.”
A group of children ran between us, giggling as they made chase.
She smiled at the couples setting up chairs and blankets in truck beds, a large portable speaker playing for everyone to hear.
We found a free spot, and I laid out the blanket before emptying my bag.
Her gaze seemed to track every new item I placed on the ground.
She lit up at the various Tupperware with Camp Starlight written in black marker, giving away that I’d gotten Azalea’s help.
And I was so glad I had. Nat looked ready to tackle me as I pulled out our salads, sandwiches, and cut up fruits and vegetables each with their own camp twist. I couldn’t wait to get my mouth around some bacon-wrapped dates, and Nat had the same idea as she eyed the honey-glazed carrots.
Once we were settled, she took a bite of one of Azalea’s brie and apple baguettes and sighed. A piece of arugula fell from her lips, and I held back my smile behind a sip of my water bottle.
“What?”
Apparently, I wasn’t as covert as I thought I was. I reached over to pick the greenery off her shirt, careful not to graze my hand over her cleavage. I’d touched her there, sure, but this was different.