Page 102 of The Promise Of You

“I’m great,” I answer sleepily as I close my eyes and tuck myself deeper in the seat. I feel his gaze lingering on me, my skin reacting with tiny pleasure goosebumps until I drift off to sleep.

And then a loud grind fills the air. I peel my eyes open. We’re climbing a hill, and the noise becomes louder. “Everything all right?” I ask the universally stupid question when you know something’s wrong—you just don’t know what.

Justin frowns and cusses as the truck slows, seeming to struggle getting up the hill. He pulls to the side, on an open and somewhat flat field, just as the truck stops.

He turns the key in the ignition. The engine cranks, and I hear the sound of something spinning. But nothing else happens. “Fuck.” He pops the hood open, reaches over for a flashlight in the glove compartment, and slides out of the truck.

I come out and hold the flashlight for him and watch him check levels and wiggle wires. Then he goes to the back of his truck and pulls out things and changes things and wiggles things. Asks me to get behind the wheel and start the engine. Wheeze, nothing.

He does more mysterious things.

I turn the key again.

Wheeze, nothing.

After maybe half an hour of this, he wipes his hands on his jeans and says, “Ever slept under the stars?”

I do a little happy jump that he doesn’t see while he closes the hood.

Minutes later we’re on our backs in the truck bed, Moose at our feet, some moving blankets spread under us, an old jacket of Justin’s spread over us. Justin took care of setting up the truck’s flatbed while I did my business in the field, and that’s where we’re spending the night. We both have our hands under our heads for support, looking at the stars.

“Best night of my life,” I whisper. The flatbed is hard and cold, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

Justin grunts and I laugh softly. He doesn’t bring Boston up, though.

“Best night of my real life,” I whisper again, and I feel him shift next to me, his side against my side, warming me. I want him to reach his arm around my shoulders, but he doesn’t, and I don’t dare move.

Friends. Get that in your head, Chloe.

But I tilt my head when I say, “Night,” and catch him looking down at me.

“Night,” he says back, and we roll our heads back to face the stars but neither of us close our eyes.

It’s too beautiful. A myriad of constellations, the thin moon in a corner, the deep dark sky behind it like the velvet pillow to so many diamonds. The air is cool and fragrant, animals ruffling and owls tooting and Everything. Is. So. Perfect.

I drift asleep knowing I had that in my life, and it’s more than most people can say.

I startle awake to the sound of Moose growling. My back is cool, but my front is warm, my cheek against something soft and that smells awesome. I blink my eyes open just as my arm is being lifted slowly, softly. “Baby,” Justin’s low voice rumbles inside me.

Oh good. I’m dreaming. Yummy dream. I shut my eyes tightly. Where was I? Justin calling me baby. Mmm. My thigh over his hard, warm body. My head over his—

“Clover, baby, gotta move you. Don’t be scared, alright?”

Moose growls louder.

I push up and realize I’m tangled over Justin and it was So. Good. “Oh, sorry, sorry,” I say and retreat.

“Clo, listen to me. Don’t freak out. I’m gonna grab the rifle behind our heads, okay.”

I sit up. “Whaaaat?” I shriek, immediately clasping my hand on my mouth. “Why?” I say, the word muffled behind my hand.

He grabs from the long box behind our heads that I thought held only his tools but turns out, it also holds a big-ass rifle that gleams eerily in the night. “There’s a bear, sweetie. Don’t freak out.”

My hands clench in fists, my body tightens, and the most feral, primal, loud scream escapes me. “Aaaaahh!” It comes from way inside, from somewhere I didn’t know existed. It goes on and on until I’m out of breath, and then it stops, and my eyes bug out of their sockets. My whole body is so tight, it shakes, ready to snap.

The forest goes silent. No more owls. Nothing but a scuttle fast disappearing, far, very far.

“Fuck was that, Chloe?”

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