Page 44 of Love Me Fearless

As if Sofie senses him watching, she looks up. For an instant, their powerful connection makes the air particles shiver. She smiles, and he smiles back.

It stirs me up inside, and I have to look away. The thought of being so deeply attached the way they are makes my skin prickle. I just have to remember how it broke my mom—the strongest person I know—when Dad left. No way am I signing up for that kind of heartache.

I’m better off flying solo.

Though that night I shared with Ava at Wolf Creek felt different. I had been wondering what it would be like to have someone in my life. Someone as good to me as Ava. Someone who makes me laugh. Someone who pushes my buttons and likes it when I push theirs. Someone who looks at me the way she does. Like she sees the parts I hide, and holds them gently.

I should have told Ava that. I should have made sure she knew that I would never in a million years do anything to hurt her.

But I didn’t. Because fuck did it sting when she left.

A car arrives, followed by car doors slamming and voices, drawing our attention to the parking area behind us. It’s Sawyer and a very pregnant Kirilee with their three-year-old son Elliot.

Ava pulls in next to them, and when she steps out of her car, with the golden sun lighting up her pretty face and her kind brown eyes, I can’t help the stuttering of my heart.

“Whatever happened between you two?” Zach asks, his curious gaze flicking from Ava to me.

“We just drifted apart, I guess.” I’d be a shitty friend if I divulged that his and Sofie’s wedding worked as a catalyst to the demise of my relationship with my best friend.

His gaze softens with a kind expression. “Maybe you’ll drift back.”

I glance up at Ava as she laughs with Kirilee about something. “Maybe.”

After s’moresand a few of Jesse and Skye’s campfire songs, those with littles pack up and trudge to the cars. Ava and I help buckle kids into car seats and carry coolers, and after their cars pull away, an uncomfortable silence hangs in the air.

“Should we take care of the campfire?” Ava asks, glancing at the bed of coals glowing in the firepit below.

“I was going to crush the embers, then get water from the creek.” I shove my hands in my pockets.

I expect her to say goodnight, but there’s a part of me wishing she’ll stay.

“Can I help?”

Yes. No. “Sure.”

Back in the campsite, I use my poker stick to break up the coals, sending sparks popping into the darkness. Ava returns from filling the bucket in the creek. With her dark hair loose about her face in the glow from the dying fire, she looks like the horse-loving country girl I grew up with, only prettier.

Will there be a time when I stop thinking of her as mine?

“Ready?” she asks.

“Go ahead.” I snub the tip of my poker stick into the dirt.

With awhoomph, the water swallows the light and sends up a cloud of smoke.

“Let’s get one more to be sure.” I grab an empty water jug.

Ava falls in next to me as we walk to the creek. In the darkness, the water’s cool mineral scent tastes thick on my tongue.

We wade through the shallows to the deeper section. The cold water is a shock on my bare toes, but it’s a familiar feeling, oneconnected to home and this place that holds so many memories. Most of them with Ava. The best ones with Ava.

Crouching down next to her as we fill up, she’s just inches away, but it might as well be miles. I hate that I can’t touch her. Kiss her. Hold her.

“Why did you leave?” I ask as she lifts her bucket from the creek.

“What?” She tries to step back, but the cobbles near the deep part are slick and she stumbles.

I drop the water jug and lunge for her, catching her around the waist. The water in her bucket sloshes down our legs but at least I kept her upright.

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