Page 80 of My Star-Crossed Summer

But the messages went through just fine. All six of them, from my breezyJust FYI, the hospital coffee is WAY worse than our camp coffee,to my laterAre we in the home stretch yet, because I’m going to need to celebrate with an adult beverage soon.

All day, I told myself that he was too busy wrangling kids and returning rental cars to reply. Sooner or later, he’d write back with some snappy joke about Derrick’s luggage and tell me he was just as eager as I was to have time alone together tonight.

But that message never came.

That nagging voice in my head whispers that it was bound to happen this way, that I was foolish to think whatever was growing between us could survive outside of this camp. I didn’t want to let myself believe that he could disappear like this again, but ignoring my texts all day is all the proof I need.

And that proof hurts me way down deep, even more than I thought it would.

“You okay?” Sophie says, her brows pinching together.

“Just tired,” I tell her, because the truth is so much more complicated.

She nods as if she half-believes me. “Hungry?”

“Ravenous.”

Flashing me a tiny smile, she says, “Come on. The kitchen staff prepped a meal for us. They promised it was both deliciousand easy enough for me to cook without incident, and I want to test that theory.”

“I’ll be your sous chef,” I say, following her toward the dining hall. At this point, I’ll do anything to get Noah off my mind, even if it’s chopping onions and washing dishes.

After we’ve finished our spaghetti picnic in the dining hall, Sophie says, “So am I going to see you at another one of these camps?”

“I hope so,” I answer. “This was nothing like I expected. I seriously considered running away when I first got up here.”

“You did have that look in your eye,” she says. “But I’m really glad you didn’t.”

“I wasn’t prepared for any of this. But that reminds me—Roxy said that you might be able to help me in that department. She said I should ask you about Pinehaven.”

Sophie smiles. “Now that’s my real happy place.”

It’safter ten-thirty when I take my flashlight and walk out to the cell phone tree to check for messages one last time. It’s been several hours since I last texted Noah, and as I wait under the big fir tree, I hold my breath as my phone lights up with new emails and texts.

I scroll through quickly, but the only texts are from Gwen, telling me to drive safe and call her when I’m on the road.

An owl calls from somewhere overhead, and I pace under the tree, waiting to see if any other messages come in.

They don’t.

There’s no word from Noah. Not even a reaction to all the texts I sent him earlier today.

I’m floored that this is happening again, and mad at myself for getting my hopes up so high. That voice in my head just laughs and says,Are you though? Are you really surprised?

I think of how close we were, how everything seemed to be falling into place. How the offer from Roxy made it seem that all of this would work out. But maybe I was right the first time: maybe I just don’t get to have both.

Shaking my head, I type out one last message to Noah so there won’t be any confusion this time around.

I get that we’re in a weird place right now. I was hoping to talk about things before we left, and I know I haven’t been the best at explaining how I feel. I’m ready to talk if you are—but if you’re not interested, I understand.

I study the words for a moment, and then I hitsend.

Because my inner optimist isn’t completely dead, I sit under that tree for the next half-hour. I’m waiting to see if Noah will respond, but I’m also listening to the owls calling to each other from the treetops, to the wind as it rustles the leaves. Before this camp, I couldn’t tell you the last time I heard those sounds—or, more precisely, when I made time to listen for them.

This place has changed me in more ways than I can count. And even if I leave here heartbroken, I still wouldn’t change a single moment.

It’s after eleven when I check my phone once more. Still no response from Noah.

I stand and brush myself off, stare once more at this impossibly black sky filled with glittering stars—a billion tiny points of light in the vast darkness. Stars that seem to nearly touch, so close that we’ve woven them together with stories of bears and warriors—but it’s just an illusion. The space between those stars is infinite.

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