4. 4
The next day should have been awkward. Instead, it was probably the best day of the weekend.
By the time the afternoon sun had climbed over the trees, I had almost stopped waiting for something to happen.
Almost. Victor hadn't tried to get me alone again.
He hadn't brushed against me when Brandon wasn't looking or found some excuse to whisper in my ear.
He hadn't even given me one of those long looks that made me wonder if he was remembering the same things I was.
He was just Victor, Brandon's father, and Brandon was happier than I'd seen him in a long time.
They spent most of the morning down by the lake, doing nothing particularly interesting and somehow finding plenty to argue about anyway. I sat on the dock with my feet in the water while Victor tried to convince Brandon that the old tackle box he'd dragged out of the shed was worth saving.
"It's rusted shut," Brandon said.
"That doesn't mean it's ruined."
"It literally won't open."
"Because it's rusted."
"That's usually what ruined means."
Victor shook his head. "You give up too fast. Patience is a virtue."
Brandon looked over at me. "You hearing this?"
"I am staying completely out of it."
"Smart woman," Victor said.
I looked at him, but Victor was crouched beside the tackle box, working a screwdriver beneath one of the latches, his attention completely fixed on what he was doing.
The sight of him there sent a sharp jolt through my body, a sudden memory of his hands gripping my hips in the shower, his voice rough in my ear.
I shoved the feeling down hard, turning back toward the lake and kicking my feet through the water until, a few minutes later, there was a metallic snap behind me.
"Ha," Victor said.
I glanced over to find the tackle box sitting open between them. Brandon stared down at it and shook his head. "Congratulations. You now own a box full of rusty hooks."
"Still opened."
"You're impossible."
Victor grinned, and despite all his complaining, Brandon did too. The last of the jolt faded and I found myself smiling with them as I turned back toward the lake, listening while they immediately started arguing about whether anything inside the box was actually worth saving.
We ate sandwiches on the dock, and Brandon told Victor about work while Victor listened without interrupting.
By late afternoon, I almost believed it.
Maybe last night had finally scared some sense into both of us.
Victor had lost control. So had I. We'd done something unforgivable, then returned to the fire and sat across from each other while Brandon smiled between us, completely unaware of what had happened inside.
Maybe Victor had looked at his son and understood what I'd been trying to tell him all along.
This had to stop.
Apparently, it had.
The realization should have made me feel lighter, and mostly it did.
I stopped tracking Victor every time he walked into a room or wondering whether Brandon had noticed something different about me.
By dinner, I was laughing without having to remind myself to laugh, and Brandon seemed to notice the difference too.
"You know," he said as we carried our plates out onto the deck, "this hasn't completely sucked."
I bumped him with my shoulder. "High praise."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
He looked toward the yard, where Victor was setting a couple of beers on the table. "I thought this was going to be a disaster."
"So did I."
"You were the one telling me to come."
"Because I'm supportive and wonderful." I laughed and threw my arms around his neck, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He smelled good, pine and the fresh scent of the soap he used.
"Obviously." Brandon didn't smile. Instead, he kept looking toward his father, and when he spoke again there was something quieter in his voice. "I forgot he could be like this."
Victor hadn't heard him. He was already walking back toward the cabin for something, leaving Brandon and me alone on the deck.
"What do you mean?"
Brandon shrugged. "Just... normal, I guess. Before everything went bad, we did do stuff together. Fishing. Camping. Dumb shit like that."
"You never told me that."
"There wasn't much reason to."
He said it casually, but I knew Brandon well enough to hear everything underneath it. For years, the divorce had swallowed every other memory. Victor had become the man who cheated on Brandon's mother, and everything else had been packed away with him.
The thought hit me like a fist. Cheated.
My stomach twisted, a sour taste flooding my mouth.
I could still feel Victor's hands on my hips, the way he'd stretched me open while Brandon was just feet away.
The memory of his voice, his hands, the way he'd filled me.
What I'd let him do. What I'd wanted him to do.
I swallowed hard, the shame hot and sharp in my throat.
Brandon squeezed my hand, pulling me back to the present. I forced a smile that felt brittle on my face.
"Good," I managed, my voice steadier than I expected. "I'm glad we came."
He looked at me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
My fingers tightened around his, a desperate, silent apology he would never understand.
***
Dinner stretched into evening, and the three of us stayed outside while the light faded over the lake, talking about nothing important.
Victor told a story about Brandon getting lost on a camping trip when he was eight, which Brandon insisted was a lie until Victor supplied enough humiliating details to convince me otherwise.
"I wasn't lost," Brandon said.
"You were crying."
"I was eight."
"You were ten."
"Fuck you."
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my beer, which apparently was the wrong response because Brandon pointed at me. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"I was until I heard you cried."
"I thought I was going to die in the wilderness."
"You were behind the campground bathroom," Victor said.
That finished me. Brandon sat there looking betrayed while Victor and I laughed at him, and for a moment it all felt so natural that I forgot there was anything unnatural between us.
"You always loved camping," Victor said, his voice softening as he looked at his son. "Remember that trip we took to the mountains? You couldn't stop talking about the stars."
Brandon's eyes suddenly lit up and his face became open and boyish. Without a word, he pushed back his chair and walked quickly towards the house.
"Brandon? Where are you going?" I called after him.
He didn't answer, but I could hear him laughing like a naughty school boy.
I turned back to Victor. This was the first time we had been alone since the night on the couch and I tensed.
But Victor wasn't looking at me like he wanted me.
Instead, his eyebrows raised in that knowing way fathers have when they recognize their son's schemes.
There was nothing suggestive in it, no hint of what had passed between us.
Just a man sharing a private moment with his son's girlfriend, playing along with whatever Brandon was planning.
For a second, he wasn't the man who had bent me over the couch. He was just a father who knew his son.
Something in my chest loosened. I pushed my chair back and followed Brandon inside.
He was already digging through the hall closet, pulling out sleeping bags with an energy I hadn't seen from him all weekend.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
He looked up, his eyes bright with excitement. "We're camping."
I stared at him. "Why?"
He emerged with one tucked under each arm. "Come on. When's the last time we did something like that?"\
"Never."
"See? We're overdue."
Victor came in behind us carrying an armful of wood. "What's this?"
"Zoe and I are camping," Brandon announced, his voice bright with the kind of excitement I hadn't heard from him all weekend.
Victor nodded as if he had expected that answer. "There's a flat spot past the firepit. Ground's softer there."
Brandon's face lit up. "Perfect."
"You two have fun."
"You're not coming?" Brandon asked.
Victor laughed. "I've slept on enough ground in my life."
"Old man."
"Damn right. I own a mattress."
Brandon grabbed the sleeping bags and headed for the door. "Come on, Zoe. Let's go claim our spot before it gets too dark."
I followed him out, caught up in his enthusiasm. As we stepped onto the porch, Brandon turned back to his father. "Hey, Dad?"
Victor paused by the fireplace, wood still in his arms. "Yeah?"
"Thanks," Brandon said.
Victor smiled. "Have fun, son."
He even sounded like he meant it.