25. KORIE
KORIE
The highway is a nightmare. Brake lights stretch endlessly ahead of me, glowing red beneath the darkening sky while my car crawls forward at the speed of a dying turtle. I grip the steering wheel harder as the traffic slows again.
“Oh, come on,” I groan.
I should’ve left hours ago. I know that. Instead, I spent all afternoon finding excuses to stay home longer. One more bag to pack. One more thing to clean. One more stupid task that suddenly felt critically important.
Anything to delay… this.
It’s not that I don’t want to see Holden.
It’s that I’m dying to.
My entire body aches to see him. I just… don’t want to do it where everyone can watch. Because it might not go how I want it to.
I want to cry every time I remember the way he looked at me in my living room when I asked for space. I’ve never hurt Holden more than I did that night.
I tried calling him last night.
Actually, no. That’s a lie.
I stared at his contact for ten full minutes with my thumb hovering over the button before chickening out and throwing my phone across the couch instead. Every time I think I know what I’m going to say, all I can hear is his voice in that broken tone.
It was always you, Kor.
That sentence has been stuck in my head for five straight days, replaying itself on a loop like one of Holden’s precious vinyls.
It’s become my most hated song… and somehow my favorite.
It was always you, Kor. It’s like our entire life has been a playlist leading up to this moment when we’d finally see what we meant to each other.
Traffic jerks forward another few feet before slowing again.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
I lean sideways enough to see ahead and resist the urge to slam a hand against the dash. Traffic has been reduced to a single lane, and there is a roadside traffic signal ahead warning drivers of extended drive times because of an accident.
Because, of course, there is one.
As if an accident isn’t bad enough—apparently every idiot in the state of California decided to travel for the holiday weekend. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this busy.
I can hear Holden in my head, using that smug tone when he thinks he’s being funny. “This is why we leave at noon on the day of the campout, Korie. The traffic always sucks.”
“Yeah, thanks, jerkface,” I mutter, as if he were sitting right next to me. “Real helpful now!”
I can easily picture his crooked smile at the insult.
Hear his laugh. It makes my heart clench all over again, and it softens the frustration just a little.
The traffic wouldn’t be so bad if he were here with me.
We’d toss complaints back and forth, sing terribly loud without shame, and laugh until our sides hurt.
Fuck, I miss him.
The car in front of me brakes suddenly again, and frustration explodes through me before I can stop it. I slam my hand against the horn. The driver flips me off through their window.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry!”
I sink back against my seat and scrub both hands over my face. Why can’t teleportation devices exist already? I’d gladly hand over my savings just to get to Holden.
It doesn’t help that the only thing I’ve eaten today is a handful of stale crackers from the back of my pantry. Every time I tried making actual food, nausea rolled through me instead.
Not because of overwhelm or because I’m spiraling. But because I know the second I see Holden, we’re going to have to talk. Really talk. And I don’t know how to explain all of this without hurting him again.
That’s the part eating me alive.
Not the relationship—never the relationship. Being with him is… God. How could I have known how good it would be with Holden? It’s just everything else.
I stare out the windshield as I recall the way he’d sat on the edge of his couch, leg bouncing as if he was going to ask me to fly off to London or something. Go on one date with me, Kor. That’s it. If you hate it, we’ll stop.
It had seemed laughably stupid at the time, and I was convinced it would end terribly. Either we’d end up hurting each other, or we’d spend the entire night being awkward idiots and laughing ourselves sick.
Instead, Holden had surprised me.
He’d bought me flowers in my favorite color, held doors open for me like an absolute dork, took me to a restaurant that may as well have been heaven. And he’d held my hand as we walked on the sidewalk.
It couldn’t have been more perfect if he’d tried.
So perfect, in fact, that it left me genuinely confused why other men didn’t want him.
I always knew Holden James was a catch—I just never suspected I’d be the one to catch him. Somewhere between dinner and watching him make a candle like his life depended on it, something in me shifted.
That might’ve been the night I fell in love with him. Or maybe just the night I finally recognized it.
Maybe not all at once, but enough that I never really recovered from it.
I rub my chest. Please let us get through this.
The line finally starts moving again, and I throw a hand up in relief. As soon as we’re out of the hazard zone, I hit the gas, passing two motor homes and an old travel bus, trying desperately to make up for lost time.
My stomach tightens the closer I get to the cabin, and the last few weeks replay in pieces behind my eyes.
The play.
The basket of snacks and bottle of wine.
Hearing him call me beautiful.
All the late nights tangled together in my apartment.
Waking up in his arms with sleepy kisses in my hair.
The carnival.
The Ferris wheel.
It all makes my heart ache so much.
I’ve ridden that stupid Ferris wheel a hundred times in my life, but none of those memories compare to Holden kissing me at the top while city lights glowed beneath us. It changed everything. Our friendship shifted into something deeper—and yes, scarier—than I let myself believe could last.
It took me a while to trust it.
Somewhere during these last five days, I realized it wasn’t Holden I didn’t trust. It was myself.
I didn’t know how to stand inside something this big without getting swallowed by it.
Loving Holden feels enormous—safe and terrifying all at once—and I needed space to hear my own thoughts inside it again.
But the thing is, Holden never asked me to disappear into him. I just didn’t know how to stop myself from doing it.
That realization hurts almost as much as missing him does.
I know now he wasn’t trying to trap me. He wasn’t trying to control me or push me into anything.
He’d never do that. Holden just got excited.
He loved me loudly, which is a very Holden thing to do.
I didn’t know how to explain that I needed room to catch up emotionally without making it sound like I wanted less.
I never wanted less.
I just needed to hear my own heart.
Tears slip down my cheeks, and I quickly wipe them away. The last thing I need is to crash because I’m crying on the highway like a disaster.
Darkness has settled fully by the time I finally turn down the long gravel road toward the cabin. The porch light glows warmly through the trees, and I can already see people gathered around the fire pit.
Music drifts faintly through the night air. Suddenly my heart is pounding so hard it feels painful. I can hear Trista and Macy, someone is playing a guitar, and people are laughing.
There is only one person I want to see, though.
I pull into the field and park between two massive trucks, killing the engine. For one second, I just sit there gripping the steering wheel. Old Holden would’ve been halfway across the campground already, demanding to know why I’m late and asking if I’m okay.
But he’s not here, and suddenly, I don’t know if he’s even going to talk to me.
The place where he should be rings hollow, and anxiety twists hard in my chest. I climb out slowly and grab my bags, sleeping bag, and pillows. My dad appears from near the cabin, relief flashing across his face immediately.
“There you are,” he says, walking over. “We were worried, kiddo.”
Translation: you should’ve answered our calls. They each called me three times, and Trista texted a few times too.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Traffic was awful.”
He watches me for another second, like he wants to ask something but decides better of it. Then he takes one of my bags. “Well, you made it. That’s the important thing.”
The closer we get to the fire, the harder my pulse pounds.
Then I see him.
Holden sits on one of the logs near the fire pit, elbows braced against his knees. Firelight flickers gold across his features, and even though I can’t see his face clearly, I know—I know—he’s watching me.
My heart cracks wide open, and I nearly start crying all over again. He looks exhausted. Not angry like I expected, or cold, or like he’s going to shut me out. Just… wrecked. Like he hasn’t slept properly in days.
I wrap an arm around myself and slow down unconsciously.
Holden still hasn’t moved toward me, but his eyes never leave mine either.
Is this still him giving me space, or does he genuinely not want to talk to me?
Dammit, I hate that I can’t read him. I used to know what he was thinking without even a hint.
I glance toward the tents scattered around the field as a horrible realization hits me. I don’t know which one is ours, or if I’m even welcome in his.
My throat tightens. Keep it together.
I set my bags carefully beside one of the picnic tables instead. I guess if Holden doesn’t want me, I can squeeze in with the kids in the loft. Jocelyn would love that anyway.
A few people say hi as I move through the group, but everything feels distant and strange beneath Holden’s gaze. I hug my mom and talk to her for a minute, then hug Laura.
Hattie keeps looking between Holden and me like she knows something’s wrong, which honestly makes me want to throw myself directly into the campfire. Did he tell her?
My stomach growls loudly enough that Holden’s mom immediately notices.
“Oh, honey, have you eaten at all?”
“Uh… no, not really.”
Vicky scrambles to her feet and finds me a cold leftover hamburger to warm by the fire. Honestly, I’m hungry enough I could eat it cold.
I won’t, but I could.
“Thanks.”
She hands me a bag of chips and a couple of water bottles too. “Here. Take this to Holden,” she adds, quieter now. “I haven’t seen him eat or drink anything all evening. He must not be feeling good.”
The comment cuts deeper than I expect.
No, of course he’s not feeling good. His heart is broken.
I take the water bottles automatically, knowing avoiding Holden would just raise questions.
Holden finally looks away as I get closer, and he barely glances at me as I sit beside him on the log. The space between us is painful. I hate it instantly.
“Hi,” I say softly.
Holden finally looks at me fully, and I nearly gasp. The pain in his eyes knocks the air straight from my lungs.
Oh.
Oh God.
Is this what he’s looked like all week?
Guilt twists brutally in my chest.
I start to reach for him, then stop, not sure if he’d want me to touch him.
Shaken, I set the hamburger on the fire ring to warm up. It should only take a couple of minutes. Fixing Holden and me, though? That’s gonna take a lot longer. Where do I even begin?
“Korie, look!” Jocelyn appears beside me, holding up a light-up yo-yo.
Normally, I’d match her energy. Tonight, the best I can manage is a weak smile. “That’s awesome, lovebug.”
“Wanna play?”
“Let’s do it tomorrow, okay? I’m kinda tired.”
She pouts dramatically, but gives me a hug before sprinting off again.
I test the hamburger, then finish it off in three bites. Around the fire, someone passes out marshmallows and roasting sticks. Pure instinct has me reaching for one. I roast it slowly before holding it toward Holden, charred exactly how he likes it.
Holden hesitates. Then quietly shakes his head.
My heart sinks.
I swallow hard, tears stinging my eyes. I immediately blink them back. Marshmallows are always our thing during this trip.
I stare at the gooey blob for another second before deciding I don’t have the stomach for it either. I burn it off, then scrape the marshmallow off the stick.
Wiping my eyes, I risk another glance at Holden. He’s hunched forward, hands clasped as he stares into the embers. The tightness in his shoulders and the emptiness in him are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I ache to touch him, but I’m not sure I have any right to.
One by one, people start peeling away for the night, nestling down in tents or disappearing into the cabin. The fire burns lower and conversations soften around us.
My pulse starts climbing again.
It’s now or never.
I turn toward him slowly, leaning in. “Can we talk? Please?”
Holden looks at me for one terrible second before standing like he’s going to leave.
My stomach drops and I let out a sharp, quiet gasp. Fuck.
Then he glances at me and tips his head toward the trees in a silent come on.
Relief crashes through me so hard I almost cry.
I stand immediately and follow him into the dark.