Cabin Tales

Chapter 37

I craned my neck over to look at Gray, but he was now walking into his bedroom, purposely leaving me alone with the ex who I would never get over. He threw me a small smirk over his shoulder that let me know Daniel's appearance wasn't a surprise to him.

No wonder he was acting so strange.

Standing before me was the man who made my heart flutter, caused my cheeks to heat up, and filled my stomach with butterflies just by existing. I looked him up and down, hardly believing this was real. That he was real and not just some figment of my imagination. What were the chances that I'd talk about him at work today and he'd show up at my door not even thirty minutes later?

And why did Jasper have to be right?

Our eyes met, and all of a sudden, I was sinking into his arms. I wasn't sure who embraced who first, though I was confident it was me. I let out a sound that was a mix between a cry and a laugh, but the best way I could describe it would be relief. As the noise escaped my lips, he squeezed me tighter, nuzzling his face into my hair as if it hadn't been several months since I'd last seen him. With how we reacted to each other, I decided that we really were two lost puzzle pieces finding their way back to each other.

I was still hugging him when he picked me up and escorted me over to the couch. I watched from my spot as he picked up my jacket I'd carelessly tossed earlier from the floor and set it on the back of a chair. My heart swelled at the idea of him taking care of me, even if it was a small gesture. The couch dipped under him as he sat in Gray's spot. When I looked up at him, speechless he was physically here next to me, I caught his eyes roaming over my body, taking me in. As the two of us made eye contact again, I practically dove into him, showering him in kisses and unable to untangle my hands from his hair. Daniel pulled me closer, twisting us both so my back was now on the couch. Then I was under him, and it was all happening so fast and my heart was going to explode and it was like no time had passed at all between us.

***

"You're here," I said for probably the tenth time in the last hour. The entire night was unreal.

I was sitting on Daniel's lap, still on the couch, one of his hands weaving in and out of my hair while the other traced infinity signs on my bare thigh. We were completely entangled in each other, and any time I turned around to face him, he'd plant a kiss on my lips.

"I'm here," he confirmed.

He explained to me that he had moved to Asheville a month ago for a small journalism job. I reluctantly told him I was still working at the same cat-themed coffee shop. For some reason, that elicited another kiss from him that turned into him peppering my neck with little pecks.

I explained to Daniel that I went on a month-long hiking trip with a grief group, and how I allowed myself to open up for the first time since my mother passed. I told him about Irene and how going to therapy every week had helped me greatly, even if some days were harder than others. He listened as I spoke, and I was just glad to know that he finally could understand the truth.

There would be no more lies from me. Never again.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back that day," he said, moving his hand from my thigh to my cheek. "The day I saw you on your break. There were many times I wanted to come to see you, but I didn't know how."

"Know how?"

He shook his head, and although that didn't lessen my confusion, I didn't push anymore.

It was my turn to say sorry. The big one – the one that had ended us all those years ago. But how was I supposed to apologize for something I did when I was a teenager? Something I regretted now that I was older and understood life a little better.

"I know you heard me when I was talking to Emme," I started and felt a bit silly for bringing up something so far in the past. "I didn't know it then, but we heard rustling and thought it was a coyote. It was you, wasn't it?" He didn't respond because I hadn't intended for it to be an actual question, so I continued, "There was no doubt in my mind that I loved you, but all I wanted was the best for both of us. I thought that if I ended it, pretended that my feelings had gone away, then we'd both thrive in college and eventually move on."

He smirked, his thumb brushing my cheek. "That didn't work, did it?"

"For a while, I was convinced that it did. But I didn't like how we left off. I'm sorry I did that to you."

"I'm not," he said, shocking me. "You know I wrote you a letter?"

A letter? I never received a letter from him, at least not a physical one. The closest thing I got was the emails we'd exchanged as kids, but never had he given me a handwritten letter. Maybe he still had it.

"It was that last year of camp, and you were starting to disappear. I wanted to write you something you could take to school with you," he laughed, running a nervous hand through his already mussed hair. "I thought you'd want a souvenir to remember me by."

"I probably would've kept that letter forever if you gave it to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. What happened to it?"

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. I placed my hand on his chest to pull his attention back to me. There was no need for either of us to avoid each other anymore.

His arms wrapped tightly around my waist as he scooted me closer to him. He rested his chin on my shoulder, our cheeks touching. I could feel his breath on the shell of my ear as he whispered, "I can't remember."

I moved back to look at him, and his eyes were glazed over as if he didn't want to remember the day I had hurt him. I certainly didn't want to think about it any more than I already had.

"I crumpled it up and shoved it into my pocket," he confessed. "I was hurt."

I remembered that week so clearly. When I was dry around him and then he eventually reciprocated my rudeness and everything between us was incredibly unpleasant and tense. It was the first time I ever saw him so angry – furious – and at me, nonetheless. The way we went from inseparable to strangers in a matter of days. At eighteen, I'd never known how easy it could be to lose someone so close, and yet it had happened multiple times since then.

"I'm sorry," was all I could say, the back of my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Daniel said nothing in response. Instead, he cupped the back of my head with one hand while the other found its way to my hip. His lips brushed mine soft and slow, and while I anticipated something deeper, I let him linger there. As I waited for him to say something, I knew he wouldn't verbally accept my apology. I didn't need to him accept my regrets now or ever because what I did back then and at the start of our senior year of college was equally cruel. I led him on all throughout our last summer together, even if I didn't mean to. Then I did the same thing years later. If I could take those moments back, I would in a heartbeat.

But I also knew Daniel well enough to know that he had accepted my apology years ago.

Our lips locked in heated anticipation, sending me back to before any of that happened. No apologies. No words. Just us, using our bodies to say the unspoken.

Two campers.

Two college graduates.

Two lost pieces found.