Chapter 4
Four
Aspen jolted awake, disoriented for a moment by all the chattering people around her. Then an engine groaned, and the bus lurched again as it sped up from the switchback on its way up a mountain.
Right. The bus to the summer camp resort she’d booked in order to squeeze in as much fun as possible before her biopsy. The bus she’d given serious thought to missing before she slinked out like a thief in the wee hours this morning to catch it.
Was Brooks awake yet? Had he found her note? Surely by now he had.
What was he thinking? Was he disappointed to find her gone?
Relieved not to have to face an awkward morning after?
Fear of the latter had contributed to her decision to keep her original plans rather than risk being rejected if she asked him for more than the one night.
If that flew in the face of the whole Being Braver principle she was following, well, she considered it a tactical retreat.
Plus, she’d spent a pretty penny of her savings on this camp resort, and she couldn’t see wasting it.
All around her people were talking and laughing. The whole thing reminded her a little bit of The Parent Trap, which was another of her mom’s favorite movies.
As she blinked away the remnants of sleep, she realized that many of her fellow passengers kept looking at her. Self-conscious, she discreetly wiped at her mouth, wondering if she’d been drooling in her sleep.
“—can’t wait to see what’s changed since we were kids.”
“I know, right? I loved Camp Firefly Falls back then. I’m so excited to be going back.”
All around her, conversations echoed more of the same. A lot of the other folks on the bus had apparently been campers at Camp Firefly Falls back when it had been a normal sleep-away camp for kids. Maybe that was the source of the curious glances. She wasn’t one of them.
Aspen firmly shoved down the vague sense of trepidation at that.
Being on the outside was nothing new to her.
But it made her miss Linnea. She wished desperately that her friend had been able to get away and come up here for this impulse trip.
But she couldn’t get away from the coffee shop that easily.
Not without a lot more notice to arrange coverage.
Feeling a little lonely, she pulled out her phone to text Linnea.
Aspen: I miss you. I’m on the bus to camp. I think we’re nearly there.
She followed it up with a quick photo of the mountainside from out the bus window.
Linnea wrote back almost immediately.
Linnea: I’m so excited for you! This is going to be a great trip. How was New York?
Aspen thought back to Brooks. Life altering. She began to type.
Aspen: New York was fantastic. Saw the sights. Ate lots of really great food.
Her fingers paused before adding “met a guy.” That would make it sound like he’d continue to be in her life.
Beyond all that, their time together felt like a secret just between the two of them.
Something she wanted to hold close. Maybe because she hadn’t yet processed the grief that he wouldn’t be in her life beyond one fleeting day.
He’d been utterly wonderful, and she’d have loved to stay in New York and spend more time with him.
Not that there’d been any guarantee that he’d have wanted to spend more time with her.
Maybe he was a one-and-done kind of guy.
How would she know? She just knew he’d given her the best sex of her life and a boatload of incredible memories.
Aspen thought maybe her mom would be proud she’d taken life by the horns, as it were.
She also would’ve been the first one to chastise Aspen for not getting his contact information or even his last name.
That would have required waking him up and facing that prospectively awkward morning after.
She could’ve left her own number, and she’d considered it.
But ultimately, it was better this way. If she really did have cancer, the last thing he needed was to get involved with her.
And yeah, okay, she could admit to herself that she couldn’t quite take it if she’d left her number, and he never contacted her again.
After how she’d left this morning without a word other than a note, he’d be well within his rights to be angry about being ghosted.
Even though she’d expressly said in that letter that she wasn’t ghosting him.
Surely ghosting would involve not leaving any message at all?
No. Better to have that one perfect night stay perfect in her memory than to find out it hadn’t meant as much to him.
So, Aspen sent the text without adding anything about Brooks.
A cheer went up around her as the bus took a wide turn onto a gravel drive beneath an arch reading Camp Firefly Falls.
Here at last.
She joined the happy chaos, spilling off the bus with everyone else and lugging her suitcase and backpack toward the pair of tables at the edge of the parking lot to get her cabin assignment.
It took a while, but nobody seemed to mind.
Aspen certainly wasn’t in a hurry. The name of the game today was low key.
A ponytailed blonde flashed a broad smile when Aspen stepped up to the table. “Welcome to Camp Firefly Falls! I’m Heather Tully, one of the owners, and this is Stephanie Garcia. What’s your name?”
“Aspen Fairchild.”
Heather blinked, a flash of something that might have been recognition passing over her face.
Which was ridiculous. Aspen didn’t know this woman from Adam’s house cat.
They’d never met before, and certainly she had no reason to recognize Aspen’s name.
Heather exchanged a quick look with Stephanie, then consulted her list.
Maybe I imagined it.
Except, no. Stephanie was kind of staring at her with a kind of awe. What the hell was that about?
Heather frowned and checked something else. “There’s been some confusion. You’re listed over here in Cabin 12, but you should actually be in 27.”
It made no difference to Aspen. A cabin was a cabin, right?
“I’m not fussy. So long as there’s a bed and hot water.”
The two women conferred in low tones before Heather finally announced firmly, “Definitely Cabin 27.” She offered a key with another broad smile that had odd, wink-wink, nudge-nudge overtones. “I hope you have a wonderful stay with us.”
Too tired to parse out what any of this meant, Aspen took the key and offered map and hit the path toward her cabin.
She’d dozed on the bus, but it hadn’t been good sleep.
After last night, she was exhausted. Maybe she’d settle in and have a nap before exploring the rest of the campus.
After all, no one was waiting on her. This trip was entirely about what she wanted.
She passed the main lodge and followed the directions she’d been given, finding Cabin 27 easily enough. Like its neighbors, there were three steps up to a little porch with Adirondack chairs for sitting and looking at the lake. She used the key to let herself inside.
Oh, this was lovely. Definite shades of summer camp, but elevated.
Rustic elegance. There was a king-size bed.
Well, it seemed as if it was actually two twin beds pushed together and made up as one.
Plenty of space for sleeping, which was far more than she’d been expecting.
The cabin was air-conditioned and nicely appointed, with a mini fridge and microwave tucked into one corner, and a pair of desks built into the front, facing the lake.
That would be handy if she decided to do any work on this trip.
A little binder provided information on all the amenities, including the wi-fi password.
She’d investigate that later. First things first: she wanted a shower. Then that nap.
Satisfied with her plan, she dumped her bag on the bed, dug out her toiletries and stepped into the bathroom.
Brooks was still on the phone with his publicist when he pulled into the parking lot at Camp Firefly Falls.
“I really wish you’d gotten in touch with me sooner.” The note of rebuke in Rebekah’s voice was unmistakable. “I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to correct the public’s conception at this point.”
He’d avoided this call for most of the day because, while his engagement wasn’t real, at least people were talking about something positive instead of making a public spectacle of his grief.
That part had been kind of nice—even if he hadn’t known what the hell to say to the handful of well-wishers who’d congratulated him before he’d made it out of the city.
But he’d been forced to finally take Rebekah’s call on the drive and give her the truth about how all this had happened.
“Is it that terrible?”
She waited a beat to speak. “Is it terrible that you’re fake engaged?”
“I mean, nobody knows who she is. They don’t have her face or her name.”
Rebekah tsked. “Oh, sweet summer child. They may not have her name… yet. But they will. They definitely have her face. As soon as that liplock photo surfaced, more people who were there started sharing their own pictures. You might not have been the focus of those shots, but you’re in them, and so is your mystery girl. ”
Which meant, in theory, that eventually Aspen might hear about this. Even if she wasn’t into “sportsball”, as she put it, people who knew her would be. Would she think this had been his idea? Would she use it as a reason to contact him? Did he want her to?
Yeah. Yeah, he did. And what did that say about him?
When he said nothing, she continued. “I’ll be in touch by the end of the day with a plan for how we’re going to proceed.”
“Great.” He muttered it without enthusiasm, because whatever her plan was, it would involve him reverting to an object of pity. “Just don’t make any statements or press releases without running them by me first.”
“Understood. And do me a favor? Lay low, please.”