Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
KRISTA
Friday, Day One of the Summer Swap
Krista had thought about inviting Joe back to Hidden Hills for the night—or even slipping back into her own bed, rules be damned.
But after Elsie had made such a show of “officially swapping sleeping spots,” snapping photos for content that would get loads of people donating, backing out felt like cheating. Or worse—like admitting she couldn’t handle one night apart.
Krista could handle it.
Soon she was zipped into Joe’s sleeping bag, the nylon pulled snug up to her chin, even though the air inside the tent was still warm.
Cicadas screeched from the trees around her, a steady electric buzz, and mosquitoes whined outside the mesh.
Every so often, a lightning bug flashed against the canvas like a tiny, misplaced star.
She missed her soft pillows. Her lavender spray.
The familiar weight of her duvet. She shifted, trying to settle, then considered grabbing Joe’s camera and trying to take photos.
But they hadn’t covered nighttime photography yet.
She had no idea what to do with the flash or how to capture anything in the dark.
So she lay there, letting the dark press in, replaying the night.
The way she and Joe had worked together, sharing looks, brushes of hands.
Him working at the Hot Honey Hideaway was just part of the swap—but she’d liked him there, beside her.
Something had clicked. And yes, she could admit it: She’d been more than a little proud of that margarita he’d made for her.
Thunder rumbled somewhere across the lake, low and distant.
“At least I’m tucked inside,” she muttered.
The storm rolled in fast, the way summer storms in Maple Falls always did. One restless breeze, then suddenly the sky opened. Rain slammed down in sheets, drumming against the tent until the sound swallowed everything else. The canvas shuddered with every gust, guy lines snapping tight.
Krista stared at the arched ceiling, counting seconds between thunderclaps. Joe had chosen the site carefully with its higher ground, good runoff, and the tent angled just right. She trusted him.
Even so, with lightning flashing white against the canvas and thunder rattling straight through her ribs, the tent felt thin, and she wasn’t sure it would hold.
Lightning flashed, turning the canvas stark white for half a second before the dark folded back in. The rain kept coming.
It was probably for the best that Frankie had stayed with Joe tonight.
Her little dachshund hated storms almost as much as their friend Madison did.
Krista pictured Madison out at the farmhouse, jumpy at every thunderclap, and hoped Zach was doing what he did best, wrapping her up and making the world feel smaller, quieter, safer.
One by one, images of her friends flickered through her mind. Couples pairing off. Wedding aisles. Houses full of baby toys and shared calendars. People who were building futures, while she spent most of her days rushing around and congratulating people on their happily ever afters.
She shoved the thought away before it could settle.
She wasn’t going to lie in a tent and pine over futures she didn’t have. Not when she had a perfectly good, infuriatingly handsome man in her life right now—even if it was only for a week or two.
Her phone buzzed against her hip.
Elsie: Good evening, swappers. As promised, here is your nightly check-in. Let’s recap how the day went and go over tomorrow.
Elsie: I require:
“Joe luxuriating in Krista’s bed”
“Krista bravely roughing it in Joe’s bed”
Krista: Elsie, it’s 10:47p.m.
Elsie: It’s content o’clock.
Elsie: Joe, are you there, or are you asleep in the Lavendar Pillow Kingdom?
Joe: Here.
Joe: Also: “Lavender Pillow Kingdom” is accurate.
Elsie: GREAT. Photo. Now.
Krista snorted.
A moment later, her phone rang .
This time it was a call from Joe.
“Hey, camper,” Joe said, his voice warm and a little crackly. “Did you comply with our fearless leader yet?”
She smiled despite herself. “Not yet. Hang on.”
Krista took a quick selfie and sent it to Elsie.
Krista: My recap? My photography still needs work. Joe is going to help me in the morning. We’re going for a hike, and while he’s manning the Hideaway, I’ll attempt it solo again.
Elsie: Perfect! Tomorrow is sponsored by the Cocoa Corner. I’ll schedule the post now! Talk soon, guys.
Thunder cracked overhead, enough to make Krista flinch.
Joe heard it. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “It’s just a storm.”
“Is the tent holding up?” he asked. “I double-checked the seams, but if any water’s coming in?—”
“I’m okay. Really. You did a good job. It’s dry. I promise.”
There was a pause, the kind that meant he was weighing whether to push. “If you change your mind,” he said lightly, “you can always come evict me from your bed. Elsie would probably call that premium content.”
She laughed. “Tempting. But no. I said I’d do this.”
“Committed,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “I respect it. Even if I don’t like picturing you in a thunderstorm by yourself.”
“I’m not alone,” she said, glancing at the sleeping bag cocooned around her. “I’ve got your tent. Your sleeping bag. It’s almost like you’re here.”
“ Almost is doing a lot of work there.”
“Let me pretend.”
His breath came slow through the line. “If I were there,” he said quietly, “I’d climb into that sleeping bag with you. ”
Warmth curled low in her belly. “I don’t know…It’s a pretty small bag.”
“We’d make it work. I’d slide in beside you, pull you close, keep my arm around you so you’d know I wasn’t going anywhere.”
She swallowed, eyes fixed on the tent wall. “That would help,” she admitted.
There was a pause before he replied, softer this time, “Yeah. Thought so.”
“Good night, Joe.”
“Good night, Krista.”
The line went quiet.
She stared at the darkened screen for a moment before setting the phone beside her and reaching for Isabel’s diary.
The flashlight app on her phone cast a narrow beam of light as she cracked the worn cover and found the photograph of Isabel she’d tucked inside.
“Where did you go?” Krista whispered, wondering why she’d never shared her secrets with her daughter.
Rain hammered the tent, and Krista could picture Isabel in a similar setup. Maybe she’d escaped to the wilderness, camping, using that time to run away from reality and the duties that pressed in on her.
Frogs sang near the lake outside, their croaks strangely clear beneath the storm. She sank deeper into the sleeping bag and began to read, murmuring the Spanish as she translated.
Isabel wrote of the small things. Of them making their special place their own with blankets and cushions, and candles and matches. She talked about the stolen hours by the water. And her sister asking too many questions.
“ He saw me before I even understood myself. He saw the truth beneath my hurry. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself. It’s terrifying. And it feels like home… ”
Krista’s breath caught at the line about the truth beneath my hurry .
Hurry she understood. Keeping everything running so she never stopped, never thought about what her life had become. The idea of someone seeing past all of that—past the jokes and the busyness and her carefully arranged life—sent a flicker of panic through her.
Someone like Joe , a small part of her whispered.
Thunder rolled again. Her phone screen flickered. Then went black.
“No, no, no.” She tapped it frantically. Her battery icon flashed once in warning and vanished.
The tent plunged into darkness, broken only by the faint, intermittent flash of lightning outside.
“Well,” Krista said into the void, aiming for dry and landing somewhere near shaky, “guess that’s enough soul-searching for one night.”
She closed the journal gently and set it beside her, then curled deeper into Joe’s sleeping bag. The warmth wrapped around her like arms that weren’t there.
Her mind, traitorous, supplied him anyway. Joe sliding into the sleeping bag behind her, close enough that her back fit to his chest like a missing piece.
His hand settling at her waist. His mouth near her ear.
I’d tuck you in , he’d said. Tuck you in. Pull you close. Hand right on your ribs…
Outside, the storm cracked and muttered across the lake. The tent felt smaller with every thunderclap.
Krista hugged the sleeping bag closer and let herself pretend.
Tomorrow , she thought. I’ll see him first thing tomorrow…