Page 135 of Until Next Summer

“Usually,” Jessie says, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, “I’d take a few weeks off before starting to prepare for the next summer—planning out the registration calendar, hiring staff, and making a list of repairs. This year…Hillary and I had some ideas I think we should talk more about.”

My jaw drops. I’ve been so focused on what saving the camp means for Jessie that I haven’t even thought about what it could mean for me. That I could stay and help her, do what I do best: help turn our beloved camp into a thriving business.

“That all sounds great—but I was talking aboutnownow,” Luke says. “We should celebrate.”

“How about one last campfire?” I say, standing up.

Jessie’s face lights up. It only seems right. One last campfire that’s celebratory and hopeful, that says goodbye until next summer, not goodbye forever.

“I’m sure you have more calls to make,” I say to Jessie.“So why don’t you do that, and Cooper and I will go start the fire? You can meet us over there when you’re ready.”

Jessie agrees, giving me one more hug, squeezing me tight. “Thank you, Hilly. For everything.”

Now I’m the one with tears in my eyes, but I blink them away and take Cooper’s hand. After two quick stops to grab supplies—his guitar (a campfire isn’t complete without music), a bottle of champagne he’d been saving, plus hot dogs and ingredients to make s’mores—we head to the firepit. We’re both quiet on the walk over, taking in the beauty and the reverence of this moment. The old pine trees seem to stand taller, the wood cabins more relaxed, and even the gentle breeze feels like a sigh of relief knowing everything is safe. Nothing is going anywhere.

“I can’t believe you stepped between me and that bulldozer,” I say.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he says, shrugging. “I know you don’t need me to protect you, but—”

“It was hot,” I tell him.

He turns and gives me a half grin. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” I say, and he chuckles.

We fall quiet again as we reach the campfire, working to get it started before the night sky goes completely dark. The air is cool, bringing a hint of the autumn that will soon arrive.

“What Jessie said about you having ideas…” Cooper says as he sets the wood in the center of the firepit. “Think she’ll ask you to stick around?”

I hand him some kindling and matches. “I hope so,” I tell him. “None of this was in my plans, but being out here has changed things. It’s changed me.”

I think back to what my dad said, how I always came home from camp like another person, how it took me weeks to get back to myself. But I wasn’t getting back to my real self. I was going away from it. Turning back into the person he wanted me to be. Not the real me, the person I am here.

“For the first time in my life, I don’t know what comes next,” I say. “I think I’ve known for a while that I don’t want to go back to the life I had before this, but I didn’t know what a new life would look like. Especially since I thought the camp was closing.”

Cooper strikes a long match and the kindling catches fire, the oxygen and fresh air breathing it to life. I’ve never felt more solidarity with an open flame.

“Now that the camp isn’t closing, do you know what it looks like?” he asks, sitting on a log bench next to the firepit. “Your future?”

I shrug and take a seat beside him, wrapping my arms around myself to warm up. “This still feels like a dream—but in a perfect world, I’d stay here. Help Jessie turn things around and make this business sustainable throughout the year, not just during the summer months.”

“That does sound like a dream,” Cooper says, his voice wistful.

“How about you?” I ask. “Think you’ll go back to Boston once this sabbatical is over?”

“Honestly?”

“It’s the only way,” I say, giving him a smile.

“I already told my boss I wasn’t coming back,” Cooper says.

I blink at him, surprised. “What? Where are you going to go?”

The fire is in full force now, the flames dancing, lighting up the night sky, casting a warm glow on Cooper’s face. On the hint of a hopeful smile I see there.

“I’ve never been one of those people who has to know what’s coming,” he says. “I’m okay with a little uncertainty. But this girl I really like, there’s nothing she loves more than a good plan. So I was thinking, if it was okay with her, we’d follow her plan for a while. Whether that was in Chicago—where they have a lot of great restaurants—or in the Minnesota woods, where I’d be the—”

I don’t let him finish, launching myself into his arms, kissing the words right out of his mouth, pushing past the discomfort of the unknown and into the comfort of his embrace. And just like that, the hazy vision of my future turns clear: me and Cooper, figuring things out. Together.

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