Page 130 of Until Next Summer

I’m falling in love with him, too. Of course I am—it’s been blossoming all summer. When he pulled me to shore after my kayak capsized; when he listened to me cry about Hillary; when he held my hand in the hammock; when he cried onmyshoulder after his dog died.

But the most miraculous part? Luke understands exactly how much I love this place, my career. He’s not asking me to choose him over camp—he’s even thinking of staying here. He’s rooting for me, for this camp, no matter what that means for us.

And what does this mean for us? I have no idea. But one thing I know for sure is that I have never, not once in my life, felt like this. About anyone.

“Luke,” I say. “I’m falling in love with you, too.”

His eyes meet mine, startling and blue. “You—what?”

“I’m falling in love—frustratingly, maddeningly, distractingly in love—with you.”

His entire body seems to relax, his chin dropping to his chest. “Really?”

The one word contains a myriad of emotions: disbelief, elation, hope.

“Really,” I say, my words bubbling out of me in a rush. “And—and no matter what happens today, I would love to go to your family’s cabin in Michigan with you this fall, and if wedosave the camp, then I would love it if you came back here with me afterward. That is, if you want—”

He pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my shoulder. I lean against him, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of emotion rising inside me.

“I never planned on falling in love again,” he says quietly. “I triedreallyhard not to. But you wouldn’t leave me alone, Jess.”

“Sorry about that.” My mouth twitches in a smile.

He pulls back to kiss me, laughing. “Yeah, you’re not one bit sorry.”

I laugh, kissing him again. “No, I’m not.”

His watch beeps, and he glances at it. “I hate to say this, but we need to go. You ready?”

I nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Let’s go save your camp.”

—

Hillary and Cooper meet us in the parking lot to send us off—Cooper with foil-wrapped breakfast sandwiches, Hillary with travel mugs of coffee.

“We should be back well before eleven o’clock,” I say to them.

“Hopefully the buyer and Jack won’t show up before then,” Hillary says, “but if they do, we’ll stall them.”

“I’ll throw myself in front of the bulldozer if I have to,” Cooper says with a smile.

“Same,” Hillary says. “I’ll throw Cooper in front of the bulldozer if I have to.”

I laugh and throw my arms around her. I’m overflowing with gratitude for her, for coming back here and not giving up when I was so resistant to rebuilding our friendship. For standing by my side through it all.

“See you in a few hours,” I say when we separate.

She smiles. “I’ll be right here waiting.”

thirty-three

Hillary

Cooper and I are sitting in the kitchen, trying to eat the cream cheese eggs he made us for breakfast, when we hear the rumble of an approaching vehicle coming up the gravel road toward camp.

I glance at him, alarmed. “It’s only nine thirty—that can’t be Jessie yet.”

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