She looks around, scoping out our surroundings. “It’s so peaceful out here.”
That it is. Daylight streams through the brightly colored leaves, but other than that, it’s shady in this part of the woods, providing an added chill to the autumn air, making for a cozy setting.
The scent of fresh sawdust gets stronger the closer we get. When I open the door to the shack to let her enter, I’m simultaneously watching her face like an addict ready for that first hit. Her reaction doesn’t disappoint.
Her eyes grow wide, and her mouth parts slightly. She scans the room slowly, as though she’s committing it all to memory. When she’s done, she turns to me and shakes her head. “It’s like a freaking museum in here.”
She starts to walk around the room, checking out the old wood shelves filled with all the items I’ve carved over the years, from animal sculptures to portraits to furniture. I walk over to the creation I just finished sanding this morning. “I had this crazy idea to make one of these for all the new cabins. It’s a porch swing bed.”
She approaches and runs her fingers along the smoothed-out wood. “That doesn’t sound crazy at all. It’s gorgeous, Anderson. I had no idea you could create something this”—she appears to be struggling to find the right word—“functional.”
A chuckle bubbles up from deep inside me because I know exactly what she means. “It’s different than the totems and picture frames I used to design, I guess.”
“How long did this take you?”
I make a face, slightly embarrassed of the answer. “A couple weeks but only because I was figuring it all out. I’ll get faster.”
She nods. “You will. All you need now are some custom cushions to fit. Have them wrapped in different fabric to give them each a unique look, and I think it’s the perfect selling touch.” She folds her arms and walks around the bed, inspecting every detail. “You should put this one up in front of my cabin. We can take some marketing photos and add them to some of the material I’m creating for you.”
I open my mouth to argue, feeling caught off guard by the one-eighty turn in conversation.
“What do you think?” she pushes.
“Um, yeah, sure.”
Her brows bend together. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, knowing I should bite my tongue, but I can’t. “Nothing, I just wasn’t expecting you to go straight to marketing speak.”
The crease between her brows deepens. “Isn’t that why you brought me out here?”
I search her eyes, wondering if she’s that far gone from the girl I used to know. “I’ve never shown anyone this place before. You used to be so curious, I thought it was something you’d want to check out.”
Realization relaxes her face, and a sigh blows past her lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think…” She shakes her head. “I assumed you wanted me to incorporate this into the material somehow.”
Disappointment burrows deep down in my chest, and I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish I wasn’t expecting to get something more from Hope than she’s willing to give. But I can’t stop missing the woman who stayed in my heart long after she left. I can’t stop wishing that it was my old Hope who came back, and not this replica, this imposter.
Frustration twists its way through me. “Never mind.” I push out a smile. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s get you back to the office.”
I head back to the entrance and place my hand on the light switch when I realize she’s not following. One glance over my shoulder tells me all I need to know. Her hands are folded and she’s glaring.
“C’mon Hope. Let’s go.”
“No.”
Anger kicks in my chest. “No?” Hope may be different in many ways, but she’s still stubborn as all hell.
“Not until we have it out, once and for all. I’m not going to spend the next two weeks tiptoeing around you because of all the things we haven’t said. Let’s say them. Right here. Right now, Anderson. Because you seem to think we can go right back to where we left off, and I thought I made it clear when I first got here, that isn’t going to happen.”
Her words feel cutting, final, and my nod comes instinctively even though the last thing I want to do is agree. I want to do exactly what she refuses to do. I want to go back. And this time, I want to be selfish. Because if I ever had the chance to rewrite that last night we had together, I would have never let her go.
She starts to storm past me, but I grab her hand and tug her back toward me. “Wait.”
She pulls free and folds her arms across her chest. “Why? What’s the point?” It’s like her old optimism has converted into a ball of stress and anger, and it’s billowing off her in waves.
“The point is that I’m trying to find the girl I used to know. I miss her. What happened to you? You were always so happy and playful before. Now, you talk about nothing but work and how much greater your life is in the city than it was here.”
Her eyes widen in surprise as she takes a step toward me, nostrils flaring. “First of all, I’m a woman, not a girl. I think that’s something you’ve always seemed to overlook.” She takes another step in my direction, closing the final gap between us. “Second, you don’t get to miss the people you push away. That’s where you’ll need to start taking a little bit of responsibility. Third, maybe I am happier. Life in the city might be more stressful, but at least I’m happy.”
“You were happy here.”
“You seemed to think I wasn’t. That’s why you kicked me out of camp, wasn’t it?”
Emotion balls its invisible fist and socks me in the gut. “You know it wasn’t like that. Yes, I pushed you to leave, but I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that’s what you wanted. You would have never left here on your own. You said so yourself just yesterday.”
She shakes her head and averts her gaze. “And I meant what I said, but it still wasn’t your choice to make.”
“I’m sorry, Hope. Jesus. I did it for you, okay? So that you could be happy.”
“But I was happy. I loved this camp. I loved…”
My heart beats faster when she stops and shakes her head like she’s rethinking her words.
“I loved everything about it. This place was the only true home I’d ever known. And the way you ripped it away from me was so incredibly cruel. You asked me yesterday where I went all those weeks we had off, when the staff would disappear and you’d be left here all alone. Do you still want to know where I went?”
The vise around my heart clamps down harder. “Yes.”
Her eyes search mine for a few seconds before settling. “The truth is, I never left.” Moisture forms in her eyes. “I had nowhere to go. So, right before camp closed every season, I’d stock up on supplies and hide out in my cabin until everyone got back. You never even asked why my car was still here.”
My mind is spinning while my every breath seems to catch in my throat, rendering me speechless. My cheeks flame from anger, betrayal, horror—I’m not even quite sure what I’m feeling aside from shock at her confession. She can’t be serious. “I figured you carpooled like everyone else. I didn’t think—”