The One You Can't Forget (The One, #1)

fifteen

Hainsey

Friday is here.

The sun's barely up, but I've been at the store for nearly an hour now, making sure all the mountain bikes are in mint condition and we have everything we need. The camp we're staying at has cabins and a bar-slash-restaurant near the lake. It's similar to the one time my parents and I went to Mabel Lake in the North Okanagan all those years ago – in the middle of nowhere, but still linked to reality.

Mrs. Brantford pulls up in her car as I'm stuffing my hiking backpack with the last of the essentials. We're biking and camping lightly – clothes, toiletries, and protein bars. If Ems did her reservation job correctly, she's scheduled meals for each day along with the cabins.

When I look out the storefront window, I see Ems get out of the passenger seat. She's arguing with her mom, and I watch as her lips move just as furiously as the scowl on her face.

I sigh. Nothing's worse than Ems being in a foul mood. But, then again, it's usually only present when her mom is around. So maybe she'll smarten up when Mrs. Brantford leaves. Thank God the two of them aren't coming on this trip or else I'd probably end up driving myself over a cliff. I can only imagine how that trip would go.

"Did you double-check the bookings?" Mrs. Brantford asks as they step through the entrance.

"For the last fucking time, Mother," Emyln shrieks. "Yes! I double-checked. Can you not, for one goddamned second, trust that your daughter did something right? You haven't seen me for five years. I'm a responsible nineteen-year-old now – not some stupid high schooler!"

Mrs. Brantford flattens her lips into a firm line. "You certainly don't act your age," she says coldly.

With an icy glare, Ems crosses her arms and stares down her mom. "Well," she says. "Like mother like daughter." Her voice is colder than ice itself.

The silence seeps into every crack of the store, and I have the sudden urge to go outside until the problems are solved between them. But as soon as I move, Ems notices me. She's wearing black Nike shorts and a green tank top with the company's name on it. Her hair's down, hanging past her shoulders in a way that makes me think she just got out of bed. An image of her just getting out of my bed flitters across my mind. Our eyes connect, and I instantly look away. Shit. I was totally checking her out. Could she tell?

"Morning, Hains," she says, her voice back to normal.

I look back and see her smiling at me. It's a big smile – one that could light up even the darkest of days, and I can't stop myself from smiling back at her.

"You ready for this?" she asks as soon as she's standing in front of me.

I nod, looking over her shoulder at her mom. Mrs. Brantford is still standing there, arms crossed and looking irritated. "You can go now," I say. I don't know where the words are coming from. Maybe it's because even though she's helped me out a lot, I'm still pissed at her for cheating on her husband like she did. If she hadn't done that, who knows where Ems and I would be. "The group is supposed to arrive here any minute. Ems and I have got this." The words come out monotonously; making me sound bored with the drama that's going on.

From the corner of my eye, I swear I see Ems close her eyes and exhale deeply.

Blinking, Emyln's mom nods her head and heads for the staff room without saying another word to either of us. She doesn't even bother looking over her shoulder.

"Thank you so much," Ems says as soon as her mom has disappeared behind the door. "Ninety-nine per cent of the time I can't fucking handle her."

"You know," I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "She can probably hear you." I raise an eyebrow. "The door and these walls aren't soundproof."

Ems shrugs. "Don't care. Let her hear it. After everything she's done, she deserves a helluva lot more than someone talking behind her back." Ems adjusts her own backpack on her shoulders. "Parents, eh? We always end up suffering because of their mistakes. It's so unfair."

I nod. "I couldn't agree with you more."

And I couldn't. We've both been damaged by the choices our parents made. There's no denying that. If I would stop pushing her away, I bet we'd be capable of having a conversation that lasts for hours about all the shit we've been through.

But the only time that would ever happen is in a parallel universe. Letting Ems know that I've stocked up enough heroin in the house to last my mom the next three days without me would be dangerous on so many levels. And then there's the whole idea of letting her back into my personal life after what happened. I mentally shake my head and tell myself to get my shit together. This is work – it's about making sure the group of bachelors is happy throughout the whole experience. So that's what we're going to do.

As if on cue, a silver SUV pulls up in the parking lot.

"Is that the group?" Ems asks.

I wait for them to get out of the SUV. The first man is shaven and wearing a red muscle shirt. He begins walking to the store with a hop in his step. The next few guys that come out aren't so upbeat – they're unshaven, squinting against the rising sun, and trudging through the gravel like this is the first time they've ever had a hangover.

"Looks like it," I sigh, wondering how we're going to keep them sober without resorting to knocking them over the head with a stick.

Ems snorts. "Did you bring those earplugs?"

Glancing at her, I smile and say, "Could've, should've, would've."