“My office. Both of you.”
Colin’s lecture is…rough.
I wasn’t expecting it to go well, considering the scene we caused, and in front of the campers, no less. But I also wasn’t prepared for the disappointment in Colin’s eyes while he reprimanded the two of us.
“You two need to get over whatever is going on between you. I don’t care about what happened back at Foltyn, and I don’t give a damn about what happens after you leave here. But the time you spend here at this camp?ThatI care about.” His attention flicks between us, pinning each of us with a hard stare. “Call a ceasefire. You can go back to hating each other once you’re no longer on these premises.” With that decided, he motions toward the door. “Now, go get yourselves cleaned up and back to your group.”
Neither of us speaks to the other when we exit the office, and that doesn’t change as we go through the rest of our day and into the evening. We painfully exist in the same sphere, trying our best not to rock the boat any further. Proverbially and literally, it seems.
To no surprise, the blowout by the lake resulted in the twins crawling even further up my ass when it comes to Avery. Asking questions about why we were fighting, of course, but also digging for more information. Colton especially, almost as if he can tell whatever tension that exists between Avery and me has become more potent. More volatile.
But then, after dinner, something changes.
There are brief periods of time when I can feel Avery’s eyes on me. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but then there’s a timeor two when I catch his gaze before he quickly averts it, telling me it’s not all in my head after all.
But still, neither of us says a damn thing to the other.
It’s not until we’re around the bonfire with the kids, letting them bullshit and yammer on without any real input from us, that we exchange a single word.
Avery walks up to me as I hand out roasting sticks to the kids, eyes cast downward at the clipboard in his hands. His jaw is taut, signaling there’s still plenty of frustration lingering in him from earlier, but when his gaze lifts to mine, I’m surprised to find…something else in them.
Stress, maybe?
“Tomorrow’s schedule,” is all he says before holding the clipboard out for me.
My gaze stays locked with his as I take it from him and watch as he walks back to where he was sitting with Elijah.
I was the one who wrote up our list of activities, per usual, so I’m not sure why he’s giving it to me. It’s only when I finally pull my attention away from his face to glance at the clipboard that I see it.
On top of tomorrow’s itinerary is a torn piece of paper, slipped beneath the clip.
A note.
I’m willing to bury the hatchet if you are.
My gaze rakes over the words written in his messy scrawl, the slightest knot forming in my throat at the olive branch he’s extending. One, I’m well aware, I need to grab on to for dear life.
Colin made his stance clear: Despite everything that’s happened—both before camp and during—we still have to find a way to work together.
If not…there’s no telling what will transpire over the next month and a half. Or if either of us will even last that long.
Before I can think better of it, I grab the pen tucked behind the clip, scribble out a note on the back of his own, and walk over to where he’s seated.
“Colin let me know about a change, actually,” I say as I press the clipboard into his hands. “You should probably look it over.”
He frowns up at me, questions and worry swirling in his blue eyes, before his gaze drops to where I scribbled out my response.
Midnight. The dock.
If you’re late, I’ll bury you instead.
Thirteen
Kaleb
I hear Avery well before I see him, and when I glance down at the Garmin on my wrist to catch the time, I can’t help the little smirk that lifts my lips.
11:58 PM.