Page 104 of Until Next Summer

I don’t know how I can go on without them.

I have nothing else that matters to me. All these years, I’ve thought of my life as adventurous, as brave and important. But I’ve let my world shrink to three hundred acres, all my efforts focused on two months out of the year.

This camp is my life. And I have no idea who I’ll be without it. I lean against the tree and let myself cry.

Eventually I hear footsteps approaching, and straighten.

It’s Luke, ducking under branches and stepping over logs as he picks his way toward me. Quickly, I wipe my eyes.

“I heard the news,” he says. His expression is all gentle concern. “Can I—do you want to talk about it?”

I swallow and shake my head. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You could try. I’ll listen.”

My eyes immediately fill with tears again. All my emotions bubble over, and my words rush out of me, raw and aching:

“What was the point of any of this? I put all my eggs inthis basket, and now the basket is broken, and the eggs are splattered on the ground.” My voice catches. “I was so stupid, investing myentire lifein something that could end.”

“Jess, everything ends.”

I look at him, my cheeks flushed. “What?”

“Nothing lasts forever. We like to pretend it will, because it’s too painful to confront the truth that we’ll eventually lose everything we love.”

I gape at him, aghast. “Do you think this nihilistic bullshit is the best thing to say to me right now?”

“Sorry.” He grimaces and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not good at this. What can I do?”

He says it so earnestly, like he feels inadequate but wants to help anyway.

My response surprises me: “You could give me a hug.”

His eyebrows shoot up, as if it’s a ridiculous request.

“Ugh, never mind,” I say, turning to go.

But he grabs my hand, pulls me toward him, and wraps his arms around me. For an instant I’m frozen, stunned at being this close after all these weeks at a distance. Then my body relaxes, the air emptying out of my lungs in one long exhale, and I lean against him.

“I am so, so sorry,” he whispers.

I don’t know if he’s apologizing for being kind of a dick, or if he’s sorry that the camp is doomed, but either way, I appreciate it. I’m trying not to sob, but when I take a shuddering breath, Luke rubs my back gently, and that’s all it takes for me to start crying again.

I’m not sure how long we stay like this, locked in an embrace in the middle of the woods, but at some point I become aware that this hug is shifting from friendly andsupportive to…something else. Luke is touching the loose hairs at the base of my neck, his fingers brushing my skin, sending goose bumps down my spine. His other hand slides lower, to the curve at my waist, pressing me closer.

My breathing goes shallow. I’m exquisitely aware that his mouth is an inch from my cheek. He smells so good I want to bury my face in his neck. My hands are itching to dip under his shirt and feel his skin; my pulse is throbbing between my legs.

Somehow, in the midst of my sorrow, I’m getting turned on.

And so is he, I think; his heart is beating way too quickly for a man standing still. His hand moves up into my hair, his fingers rasping against my scalp, and I bite my lip to hold in a moan. I ought to step away. Luke has been doing this kind of thing for weeks, getting close and then pulling back—but instead, I run my hand up the back of his neck intohishair.

His breath rushes out in a sigh of pleasure. I let my hands roam over his shoulders, feeling the planes and ridges of his back. He’s doing the same, running his palms down my spine, up the sides of my ribs.

Slowly, he presses his mouth to my jaw, a gentle kiss that makes me sag with relief. With one arm he pulls me flush against him; he’s hard. I don’t move a muscle, silently praying that he doesn’t stop. He kisses my jaw again, then down the side of my neck, his lips parting so I feel his tongue on my skin as he gently sucks. This time, I can’t hold in my moan.

Luke pulls back slightly and I get a glimpse of his face: his eyes hazy with desire, the groove between his eyebrows deepening in concentration, his mouth full and soft.

“God, I want you,” he murmurs.

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