Page 28 of My Star-Crossed Summer

Carefully, I empty the pillowcase next to a sprawling rhododendron. When the mouse scurries into the underbrush, I retrieve my shoe and turn back to Noah.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. Sometimes taking a walk helps.”

I almost tease him about leaving the kids unsupervised, but I know Noah won’t stay out long, and he won’t be out of earshot because he’s a responsible man and he cares about people’s safety. It’s his thing. He’s a protector, and it’s one of the many traits I always appreciated about him. His “walk” was probably no farther than thirty yards from these cabins, and with those Thor-like thighs of his, he can no doubt make it back to his room in three seconds flat.

He looks tired, like he needs to sleep but can’t. Is it because I’m here?

“Don’t let me keep you up,” I tell him. “That’s all the excitement I have planned for tonight. Disaster averted.”

He smirks as his eyes drift over me, and I realize with horror that I’m wearing my old threadbare Stevie Nicks tee shirt and boxer shorts that are about three nights away from falling apart at the seams. And my goofy fuzzy pink slippers. I hadn’t expected to encounter another human as I dashed out into thenight and had only been thinking of removing the mouse in the fastest way possible. But it’s chilly out here, and these clothes are far from modest. I clutch the empty pillowcase to my chest and blurt, “Okay then, good night.”

“Come on,” he says, nodding towards the cabins. “I’ll walk you back. Wouldn’t want you to have any other close encounters.”

He matches my stride back to the entrance to the girls’ cabin, raking his hand through his hair like something’s on his mind.

I feel a tug in my chest because that’s typical Noah. Making sure I get in safely, even though I was within a stone’s throw of the cabin.

He can play that grumpy card all he wants, but I see him. Under all that muscle and furrowed brow is still a big softie who wants to make sure everyone around him is okay and knows that he has their back.

I didn’t realize how much I’d missed having someone in my life who made me feel that way. Because other than my sister, no one else truly has.

He pauses by the picnic table that’s situated just a few feet from the cabins. “Can I ask you something?” he says. “Why are you really here?”

“You mean out in the woods, doing a job you think I’m completely unqualified to do?”

He frowns. “That’s not what I think at all. If anything, you’re overqualified. When Roxy told me she’d hired a replacement, I was expecting another Sophie.”

I snort. “Exactly. Another super outdoorsy person who can do all this nature stuff in her sleep. The opposite of me.”

“No,” he says. “I meant a college student.”

I sigh, sitting down at the picnic table. “I just blew up my career,” I tell him. “My whole life, really. And now I’m looking for what’s next. I thought doing something completelydifferent would help shake something loose and give me some perspective.”

“What did you do?” He sits next to me, leaving just a few inches of space between us. “For work, I mean.”

“Real estate.”

“Interesting,” he says. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

I choke back a laugh. “Young Me wouldn’t have either. I sort of fell into it—when my mother pushed me.”

“Oh,” he says, and that tone tells me he remembers plenty about my mom and the endless pressure she put on me to aim higher and be better, lest her reputation be tarnished by my mediocre actions.

“At the time, I was in an entry-level marketing job that my mother thought was beneath me—or, more accurately, beneathher. She acted like she was doing me a big favor by pulling these strings and getting me hired as an assistant in her friend’s top-notch firm.” I cringe at the memory of her telling me she’d set this up and fixed the problem—like I was incapable of finding my own way. “I couldn’t say no because that would be like throwing gasoline on a fire. To her, it would mean I was being lazy, ungrateful, unambitious, or worse. I knew she’d never let it go and keep using it against me until I did what she wanted.”

“Vic,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“Then the pressure was on—I had to be flawless because if I wasn’t, then Mom would take it personally, like I was trying to ruin her reputation. There was no way I could leave the firm because that would mean I wasn’tgratefulfor Mom’s intervention.But that’s how she is—any favor or gift comes with serious strings. I felt like I had to stay, so I got my real estate license.” I shrug. “Turns out I was good at it, but I didn’t love it.”

His knee brushes against mine, and I know I should pull away, but I don’t.

“I felt like I was successful,” I confess. “I was making good money, climbing the ladder, and doing all the things my parents expected of me. I had a nice home, a savings account, and was getting married—you know, all the things that feel like success. Pretty soon, I was just coasting along on autopilot. But I felt empty.” My chest loosens as the words come out—Gwen’s the only other person I’ve ever said these things to.

It feels good to finally let these feelings out.

“You got married?” he says, his brows pinching together.

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