Jonah’s hand gripped mine tight, and his own eyes shone.
“Four months,” he said, shaking his head. “Do you know why I keep my damn schedule? Why I keep my head down and work every day to get the installation ready for the opening? It’s not just to finish the work. It’s because when I do only that, I keep time as an abstract idea. Instead of a linear stretch of days it’s…a sphere. A glass sphere in which I work, visit my family, have drinks with friends, over and over, round and round. Each week no different from the next. That’s how I hold time still.”
Tears splattered my skirt. “And now I’ve messed it all up?”
He shook his head, his eyes brimming, his voice hoarse and tremulous at the edges. “No. You’ve been a brilliant light in my drab, dark world. But if you let me kiss you again… If we start something right now, time won’t stand still. The end, my end, won’t be some nebulous thing off in the distance. It’ll race toward me, because…”
His voice choked off, and I held his hand tighter, our tears falling together.
“Because why?” I whispered.
“Because, Kace, the days will count down until there’s only one left,” he said through gritted teeth. “The one where I have to say goodbye to you.”
The words pummeled my heart, cracked and broke it.
It’s real. Like Lola said. I can’t pretend this away.
Jonah heaved a breath and turned away, wiping his cheek on the sleeve of his shirt. “It’ll be hard enough as friends,” he said, his voice full of gravel. “It’ll be so much worse if we try to have more. If we make love. If we fall…” He shook his head, frustration coloring his agonized expression now.
“Jonah…”
“It’s late. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”
I couldn’t take the cold finality in his tone. I nodded mutely and reached for the door. “All right. Thanks for dinner and my first time in a casino…”
And my first kiss.
Jonah reached across the seat to take my hand again. He held it tightly, pressed my fingers to his lips, and then let me go.
In the early morning hours on the Friday of Oscar’s camping trip, my phone chirped with a text from Kacey.
Yesterday @ lunch, Tania told me she found a $250 bonus in her paycheck.
Who said nickel slots don’t pay? I typed back.
Wasn’t me. Smartass. :P
I eased a sigh of relief. Things hadn’t been tense between Kacey and me that last week, but they weren’t 100% back to normal either. She was as sweet as ever, still bringing Tania and me lunch at the hot shop or sending me random, funny texts like this one. She was doing what I’d asked her to do: she was being my friend. Upholding her end of the bargain, while I had been the selfish bastard who kissed her and nearly fucked everything up between us.
None of us—Oscar, Theo, or myself—had a car or truck big enough to hold six passengers and our camping gear, so we each drove up in pairs. The drive to Great Basin National Park was a four-and-a-half-hour drive. I thought for sure Kacey and I would spend the entire time in an awkward silence, the kiss and everything after hanging between us.
But long silences and Kacey Dawson didn’t mix. She was all smiles when I picked her up at her complex, and chatted nonstop about various topics, and camping itself.
“I never spent a night outdoors,” she said. “Will we see stars?”
“You’ll see so many stars, it’ll look unreal,” I told her.
“I’ve never seen a sky packed with them. City lights always drown them out.”
“I know. The first time we went, I couldn’t believe the canopy. You’ll love it.”
“I know I will,” Kacey said, settling into her seat, kicked her boots up on the dash. “But I still don’t know if bringing my guitar was a good idea. I’ll be that gal who breaks into song at the party.”
“You’ve been depriving us of your talent long enough. You owe us at least one song. Consider it the price of admission.”
She peppered me with dozens of other questions about the trip, none of which concerned the sleeping arrangements. Not that I even knew anything. Oscar assured me he ‘had it taken care of’ and muttered something about Holly and Kacey sharing a tent.
When we arrived at the campsite, Theo’s black truck and Oscar’s silver SUV were already parked side by side, facing a flat clearing of dirt at Upper Lehman Creek. Trees—fir, pine, and oak, rose up amidst tall, pale green grasses carpeting the forest floor. I could just see the creek from our site. It meandered all through the campgrounds, rushing softly over smooth stone. A metal fire ring was at the center of the site, and Theo was already setting up his orange tent on the east side.
Kacey jumped out to hug everyone, and Oscar pulled me aside.
“Holly changed plans on us, bro,” he said. “She can’t be parted from Theo. Looks like you and Kacey are going to be tentmates.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow. “You’re so full of shit.”