Chapter 26 Stormy
Stormy
“Iam SO excited for tonight!”
Missy all but vibrates, her hands gripping my shoulders as she beams straight into my face. I throw my head back, laughing.
“I know, I can tell,” I say, trying to match her energy.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been camping,” she teases, removing herself from my personal bubble and continuing to pack her bag.
I sit on the edge of her bed, fiddling with the toggles on my rucksack.
I tell her that when you live in London, camping isn’t exactly something you think about.
Of course, what I don’t tell her is that even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been allowed to.
Sam always kept me close … in his control, and he wasn’t into things like that, so we never went.
It was the same when I was younger. My dad never liked the idea of camping, so we didn’t do it. Looking back now, it’s strange to realise just how alike they were. All these similarities I didn’t notice until I was away from Sam. Until I had the space to truly dissect our relationship.
And it wasn’t just camping. My dad made sure none of us did anything he didn’t approve of.
Not me, not my sister, not even my Mum. He didn’t even try to hide it; if something didn’t suit him, it was a flat no, and that was the end of it.
Eventually, we learnt not to question him.
Sam was different, or so I thought. Just not in the way I needed.
He was cleverer about it—more charming, even playful.
He’d make it seem like staying in was our little secret, our haven.
At first, he wrapped his control in softness.
Made me feel chosen. Made me feel safe. But in the end, it wasn’t so different. It was just a quieter kind of trap.
Now it’s clear. I didn’t escape; I just swapped types of control.
“Hello? Earth to camper virgin,” Missy grins, waving a headtorch in my direction.
“Please tell me you packed one of these. ‘Cos if you didn’t, you’ll have to borrow mine.
And trust me, I charge steeply, in marshmallows and embarrassing stories. ”
I blink, pulled back to the present.
“Oh … yeah,” I say, rummaging through my rucksack.
She makes a dramatic face. “And not to freak you out or anything, but going for a wee in the dark without one of these? That’s how horror documentaries start.”
I pull out a small torch and hold it up.
“I don’t think it’s the brightest, but it works.”
Missy grins.
“Good. For a second there, I thought you were planning to channel your inner woodland creature and navigate by moonlight.”
I laugh, and the tension in my chest eases. She’d invited me out to the mountains for a night of camping with her family. A tradition, she’d explained, observed every year on the anniversary of her dad’s passing.
I told her I wasn’t sure about coming, that it was a family moment, and I didn’t want to intrude, but she shut me down immediately.
“Everyone loves you,” she’d insisted. “It'll be nice for us all to spend time together and for you to get to know everyone better.”
Still, I feel nervous. Not just about the camping, but about being around Ford now that things between us have settled a bit.
It’s not quite easy, but it’s no longer brittle.
And maybe that’s what unsettles me most. There’s a glimmer of something …
attraction, curiosity. Whatever it is, it’s hovering at the edge of my thoughts.
I don’t know if he wants to spend this kind of time around me, but I do know I’m not entirely indifferent to the idea.
But, even with the nerves and the uncertainty, I realise I might actually be looking forward to tonight. I’ll be doing something new and adventurous—something that’s completely different to my life in London.
Missy slings her bag over her shoulder. “Jensen usually camps with us too, you know.”
I glance up. “Oh, really? Where’s he tonight then?”
She tugs at the zipper of her jacket.
“Watching over Star. Just in case.” She shrugs. “Didn’t want Ford to miss out.”
It would’ve been fun having Jensen camping with us. I can just imagine the kinds of things he’d rope us into. But Missy’s right, it isn’t really something Ford should miss out on.
We head down the stairs to find Grace, Ford, and Harper gathered near the door.
“Here she is,” Grace drawls, arms crossed with a smirk. “Always making us wait.”
Missy scoffs, “Oh, please.”
Ford shakes his head, amused.
“We’d have been halfway up the mountain by now if we weren’t waiting for you.”
Missy rolls her eyes, shoving him playfully.
“You should be grateful, Ford. Life would be terribly dull without me keeping you on your toes.”
I glance over at Ford as the banter continues.
He’s dressed for the trip in boots, sturdy trousers, and a rucksack slung across his broad back, the weight resting easily against his strong frame.
When he looks at me, there’s something in his eyes.
It’s nothing dramatic, just a little bit of warmth that settles low in my stomach before I can reason it away. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
Missy’s mum turns to me, her expression warm.
“I’m happy you’re coming with us,” she says, sounding sincere. “It’s been so lovely having you around.”
I smile; the warmth of her words ground me, and for a moment, I feel like maybe I belong here.
We pile into the trucks and set off, winding through breathtaking mountainous scenery. The roads twist and climb, the towering peaks dusted with the last light of day. The sky stretches vastly above us, painted in hues of orange and purple, casting shadows over the valleys below.
Eventually, we pull into a small clearing nestled partway up the mountain. A firepit sits in the centre, surrounded by logs worn smooth from years of use.
“This is our spot,” Missy says, stepping out and inhaling the crisp air. “We’ve always come here. Dad loved this place. He used to bring us here all the time when we were kids.”
She smiles, looking around fondly. “Feels like home,” she murmurs.
The sun slipped slowly beneath the horizon, and for a long moment, the sky burned with colour, streaks of orange, blush, and the deepening blue of night fading in at the edges.
For a while, we just watched—Missy, Grace, and I caught in quiet awe. The world was so peaceful, so calm, so still.
The only sound was the hush of birdsong in the trees and the quiet calls from distant animals. It felt like the world was ours.
Harper and Ford, meanwhile, gathered wood, their laughter and teasing drifting across the clearing as they built the fire together.
They moved with ease, falling into rhythm as they pitched the tents, like they’d done this a dozen times before.
I watched them for a moment, recognising how good he is with his sisters and his mum.
There’s a steadiness to their relationship and a loyalty that feels rare.
The evening unfolds around the dancing fire.
The scent of charred wood mingles with the warmth of cooked food.
Laughter fills the air as everyone snacks on s’mores, the chocolate melting between their fingers while they share stories of their dad, fond memories filled with love and nostalgia.
Their words warm my heart, but at the same time, they make it ache.
I wish I had something like this, a bond, a tradition, a relationship with my own dad.
I stare down at the camping mug filled with wine in my hand, swirling the deep red liquid absentmindedly.
Missy had insisted on bringing wine, adamant that beer was disgusting.
Which, honestly, I am grateful for, as I’ve never been able to stomach beer either.
I’m lost in thought when I hear my name.
“So, enough about us,” Grace says, leaning forward. “What about you, Stormy? Tell us about your family”
The question hangs in the air, and I force a small smile, willing my voice to stay light.
“Uh … well,” I exhale, trying to sound casual. “My mum and sister passed away a while ago.” I pause, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Car accident. And … yeah, I don’t see my dad anymore.”
It’s silent for a beat. Just long enough to make me feel like I’ve made things awkward. I drop my gaze, heat prickling at the back of my eyes.
“Sorry,” I murmur, attempting a small laugh. “That was depressing. Let’s talk about something else.”
Missy reaches over and places a reassuring hand on my knee, and Grace’s voice is gentle when she speaks.
“Oh, Stormy. That must have been really hard.” Her expression softens as she looks at me. “But you know what? You’re one of us now, even if we don’t share blood. I’m really glad you’re here.”
Missy turns to me, pulling me into a hug.
“It must’ve been tough, losing them all. But you’re not alone anymore, okay? We’ve got you now, for as long as you’ll let us.”
Their words settle over me like a blanket, unexpectedly comforting.
Harper smiles at me over Missy’s shoulder. It’s been so lovely getting to know her over these past few weeks. I’ve even enjoyed having her help with some of the bookshop decisions.
Across the fire, Ford sits on a log, half shadowed in the orange glow. His expression is different to usual. He looks at me in a way I’ve never seen.
The fire crackles, and in its warmth, I feel a quiet sense of belonging, fragile but real.
But I’m grateful when Ford clears his throat, subtly shifting the conversation in a different direction.
“Well,” he says, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes, “should we talk about how Harper got stuck halfway up a boulder today like a confused mountain goat?”
Harper’s head snaps up. “Ford …”