Page 52 of The Forbidden Summer
Ahead, the truck is dusted in pollen from the trees, The red paint reflecting the festival lights like glittering stars. He checks on his tools stowed in the truck bed.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” I say, not really thinking. Just feeling.
Van looks up at me, that crooked smile sliding back into place. “Took you long enough to say it.”
Van reaches out, grabs the edge of my shirt, and pulls me in. Not for a kiss, but to rest his forehead against mine. We stand like that while the night folds around us.
“I wish it could always feel like this,” he says. “Like we don’t have to look over our shoulders.”
“Yeah.” I breathe out. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
Van nods, slowly. “I think I’m okay with dreaming. As long as I get moments like this sometimes.”
That fills my chest with a heaviness that smothers all the joy of the evening. Van deserves more than justsometimes. He deserves every sunrise beside someone who makes him feel seen. Every ordinary Tuesday filled with warmth and laughter. He deserves a life where love isn’t rationed out in fleeting moments, but poured, overflowing into every corner of his world.
We climb into the truck and roll the windows down. The night hums with cicadas. His pinky brushes mine on the seat between us, then curls around it, like a promise too tender to name.
As we drive out of the fairgrounds, the lights behind us blur into golden streaks in the side mirror. I catch his reflection there—thoughtful, a ease, wind ruffling his hair—and I think:I want to remember this.
We don’t talk much on the drive back. But before we reach the cabin, he speaks, barely above a whisper.
“I’d like to stop hiding one day.”
I glance at him, heart caught somewhere in my throat. “Me too.”
It’s not a vow. Not yet. But it’s enough for tonight.
Van
The phone buzzes in my back pocket as I’m oiling the blade of my axe. I glance at the screen.Mom.
I wipe my hands on a rag and take a breath before answering. “Hey.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” she says, voice light like this is just a normal check-in. “How was the fair?”
It’s rare for her to check on me more than twice all summer, and I just heard from her last week.
“Good. We sold out.” I try to sound upbeat, even though I can already tell something’s coming. Her tone’s too careful.
“Oh, honey, that’s wonderful! I knew thathobby of yours would catch people’s attention.” There’s a pause. Then—“Listen… we’ll talk more when you get back, but there’s something you should know.”
Here it is. I’m still sour about her calling my passion a hobby and she’s about to layer the cake with more shit.
She hesitates. “Greg got a job offer. It’s in Idaho. We’d need to move by fall.”
It’s like the air around me evaporates, leaving my chest tight as I struggle to breathe. I sit down hard on the stool, the axe still in my hand. “Again?”
“Van,” she says defensively. “I know how hard it was last time, but that was years ago.”
Last timeshe followed her husband’s job, I lost everything—my school, my friends, Père. All we have now are a few phone calls and these summers together.
“You told me we’d stay put this time,” I say. My voice cracks, and I hate that it does. Idaho is even farther from Père than I already am.
“I thought we would,” she replies. “But this is a really good opportunity for him. For us.”
I almost laugh.Us.Like I haven’t been building a life of my own here. His job doesn’t affect me in the slightest.
“Maybe it’s time you find your own place. You’re almost finished with school, and I’m sure you’ll find something in computer programming right away. You won’t have any trouble paying bills.”
