He frowns. “Where are you going to sleep? You can have my bunk now.”
I could, but I’d rather not have to sleep in the bunkhouse and use the communal shower without Jeremy there to stand guard.
I guess it’s probably time to head back to Rose Cabin.
The camp is a ghost town. Everyone’s left. The cars that were parked beside Jeremy’s drove away soon after he did. Now it’s just me…me and a deer munching on some grass a couple yards away. I try to get it to come closer, but it gets spooked and flees. So yeah, it’s just me. I didn’t really think my plan through. I’m not even sure we’re allowed to stay at the camp on the weekends, though if no one is here, who’s going to report me?
I haul my stuff back through camp and out to Rose Cabin. It reminds me of the first day I arrived, quiet and secluded. The door creaks and I glance down at Ethan’s bunk, still perfectly made from when I tidied up the cabin earlier this morning. He didn’t take all of his things with him. There’s a baseball cap on the dresser and some clothes still in the drawers. I unpack my duffle bag—for good this time—and then try to call my mom. Three attempts and no successes have me ready to throw my phone clear across the forest. I curse phone carriers and their lack of forethought in putting cell towers out here in the middle of nowhere.
Then when that doesn’t soothe my anger enough, I storm out of the cabin, haul butt down the stairs, and let out a soul-on-fire, life-cannot-be-this-unfair scream. Birds shoot up out of the surrounding trees, apparently terrified of me. I would be too.
There’s such a thing as too much crap.
One person can only handle so much. I have a breaking point, and apparently, I’ve reached it.
That first scream felt so good, I release another.
There.
That’s for our car falling to pieces and the zero dollars in my bank account and the bleak state of my future job prospects if things go south with Lockwood Construction. That’s for the loser guys I’ve dated and the loser man who cared enough to get my mom pregnant but not enough to stick around. That’s for Mr. Harris and his leering stares at the motel. That’s for Jeremy leaving. That’s for Ethan being in that bar the night I was at my most desperate. That’s for me choosing him over every other man. That’s for the fact that I wish I could hate him as much as he hates me.
I pull in oxygen like I’ve been held under water for hours. My lungs swell and then empty while my heart pounds against my ribs.
I feel better.
Those screams were good for my soul.
I look down at my phone in my hand and don’t even bother. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I have things to do. I’m going to turn this cabin into a home, and I’m going to start by picking wildflowers. There are a million around me, more than I’ve ever seen. I go for the big fat yellow ones and pluck up as many as I can hold in one hand, then I start in on some tiny white ones that look like miniature daisies. There’s a bucket in the mess hall I fill with water and carry back to the cabin. Once it’s overflowing with flowers, I plop it down in the center of the desk.
I arrange my toiletries in the bathroom, claiming half the counter space on the sink and making it perfectly obvious that I’ve returned and belong here. I might as well have drawn a lipstick heart on the mirror.
My bed is made with clean linens and looks so inviting, and because I have nothing better to do and haven’t had a decent night of sleep in what feels like years, I climb up onto that bunk, close my eyes, and am dead to the world in a matter of moments.
I sleep hard and wake up so early Saturday morning, it’s still dark outside. All the troubles I ran from last night come rushing right back, so I have no choice but to get moving in the hopes that they can’t keep up. I turn on the lantern, make my bed, shower, and head toward the mess hall. From helping out around mealtime, I know how to find what I’m looking for. There’s some cereal and milk and