Page 30 of Firefly Effect

I squirm a little in my tube, suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m not heartless, Lincoln, but I set boundaries. I brought a gift and was only planning to stay a short time.”

Heat that crawls up my neck much the same way my defenses have shot up like a rocket. I was okay talking about my parents and even part of the reason why I ended up here under Patrick’s care—and J.D.’s—but talking about friendships crosses into territory I don’t like to step into. With anyone.

Just as I begin thinking of ways to end the conversation, the first familiar sign of Deep Creek Campground comes into view—a small wooden deck and a rope swing, upgraded from the one I’d been on hundreds of times as a kid. And then come the waterfront tent sites.

My stomach knots as my mind begins to replay images from my childhood. Every familiar landmark triggers new memories, some older than others, but the haunting ones include Carley and the fast friendship we’d made in that short week. The way we clicked like we’d known each other our whole lives was something I had never experienced before. I felt… happy when I was with her.

“Evie, what’s wrong?”

Lincoln’s voice comes through faintly compared to the vivid memories. Roasting s’mores. Running from one side of the creek to the next. Skipping rocks. Guitars and off-tune vocalists, tree swings, hide-and-seek, fishing, canoe races.

The list goes on and on and on. My chest is heavy with sadness, and the ache only intensifies as we clear the campsites and reach the thicket of woods where our firefly chasing began. Guilt follows in its wake, telling me I should have stayed close to Carley that night. And I should have never let Foster go off to find her alone either.

Fear paralyzed me on that damn trail like a deer in headlights—until it was too late. Until Carley was dead and her brother was arrested. After that, the rest of my teenage years ended up in complete shambles.

My tube stops at the same time the site of Carley’s murder comes into view—a small inlet to the lake paved with tiny rocks from the shore. Just beyond it is where we found her dead. I kick my feet to get my tube moving again, but I’m stuck for some reason.

Panic rips through my body, a guttural cry erupting from deep within as I struggle against the unknown force.

“Evie, stop!”

That voice—deep and familiar—snaps me back to the present. I whip my head to find its source, locking eyes with Lincoln. Relief floods my body, whoosh, and suddenly, for the first time in fourteen years, I feel safe.

There’s no explanation for it. Lincoln hasn’t done anything, yet, to deserve such a place in my breakthrough.

“Are you okay?” He grips his tube with one hand while his other hand secures mine in place, locking me to this spot like a prisoner.

“No,” I finally say, wiggling my tube to get him to release it. “I… I thought I was caught on something.”

His forehead dents in the middle as if he’s confused, then he follows my gaze over his shoulder to the dreaded spot of my friend’s murder. If I didn’t know better, I might think Lincoln knows exactly why I desperately need to get away.

He releases my tube instantly and even gives me a little push in the right direction, then he flips over on his tube so he can breaststroke toward me, catching up in no time.

My next deep breath comes as soon as we round the next bend, when a waterfall comes into view. Dozens of colored tubes lay discarded on nearby rocks or float in the pool of calm water. I dare a glance at Lincoln, but he seems to be caught up in his own thoughts, probably ones of deep regret for following me down this creek.

“I’m going to stop here,” I say. “You can keep going, if you want.”

There, I gave him an out, one he’ll surely take after my freak-out.

But the look he gives me now is one of utter disbelief. “What? No, I’ll stop here too.”

Still embarrassed, I launch myself into the water and swim the rest of the way to shore, haul my tube out to the nearest rock, and sit beside it. Lincoln is right behind me, following my every move.

In silence, we watch people swim as close as they can to the falls, laughing and chatting as they go. It’s oddly peaceful here, even among the herd of people sharing the community waters. As much as I can, I bask in the simplicity of it all.

“Hey,” Lincoln rasps, his voice gentle but enough to get my attention.

I turn to stare into his apologetic eyes.

“Whatever happened back there,” he says. “Whatever I did. I’m so sorry.”

My body shudders out a sigh, and suddenly I’m overcome with the need to make sure he’s okay. “You didn’t do anything, Lincoln. I just… freaked out.”

His gaze searches mine. “Can I ask why?”

This is where I should say no. This is where I should enforce the line I’ve been so good at drawing all these years. I don’t talk about Carley. What happened to her was a lifetime ago, and while I will never forget those gruesome details, I certainly don’t need to remind the town of it.

Instead, I tell him, “I don’t like to go back there.”

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