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“Junie’s gonna have a cousin!” I say, my arms wrapped around her, feeling an emotion I can’t exactly describe.
“I know!” she shouts, and then we’re jumping up and down, laughing and hugging at the same time.
“Alright, y’all, someone get this pregnant lady a s’more,” Dad shouts.
And then we’re all laughing and digging into the bags of supplies, the evening taking on a new life—literally—that none of us expected.
chapter twenty-two
Reid
“What time are we heading out in the morning?”
Busy yawns. “Around four. We have to pack up and walk the mile to the lookout, and the sun rises at five, so…”
I nod and glance at my watch, knowing we need to crawl into our tent soon but not wanting to go. What Iwantto do is stay here, chatting with Busy. We’re the last ones up, everyone else clearly familiar with the drill and getting to bed early so they aren’t completely delirious in the morning.
Not us, though. We’ve been sitting out here talking quietly, adding wood to the fire for the better part of two hours.
“I can’t believe Briar’s pregnant,” Busy says, though it’s probably the third or fourth time she’s said it tonight. “Junie’s going to be the best big cousin, I think.”
I hum in acknowledgment, my eyes beginning to grow heavy as I stare at the flames. I’m incredibly exhausted, and the hike took a lot out of me. More than I normally try to give of myself.
It felt important today, though, to use my body while I still can. The specialist I see has made it clear that, for the most part, I need to be gentle on exercise and exertion, because overdoing it can cause a lot of fatigue on muscles that are already beginning to struggle. But I figure one intense day can’t hurt.
“Can I ask you something?”
When I look at Busy, I find her watching me with a curious expression. Part of me wants to say no, because I have a feeling it’s about my health, but I shove that default reaction to the side and nod.
“Sure.”
Busy licks her lips and tilts her head to the side. “Earlier today, while we were hiking, you said you haven’t ever had someone to talk to about your health stuff. Did you…not ever talk about it with Sarah?”
I lick my lips, considering her question. Did I ever talk about it with Sarah?
“Not really. I mean, I shared the original diagnosis, but that was pretty much it before we talked about getting a divorce.”
Her shoulders fall and she shakes her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“I told you, Busy. I gave her the out.” Shrugging, I bend forward, pick up a twig off the ground, and chuck it into the fire, watching it singe and disappear immediately.
“I get that, I just…I’m sorry you got this crazy, life-altering information and didn’t really have anyone to talk to about it.” She reaches out and places her hand on mine. “You don’thaveto tell me anything you don’t want to, but I hope you know you can share anything you do.”
I swallow thickly, blinking hard as I stare at the fire.
“Well, thanks,” I murmur, not sure what else there is to say.
If I have to be completely honest, I feel sick to my stomach. The things Busy says are so simple and yet so surprising at the same time, like she’s revealing things I didn’t know I wanted with every passing remark.
How was I to know someone you love would be willing to hear all the shitty things going on with you? How was I to know having someone in my corner would feel this way? That I don’t have to keep the worst to myself, bottled up inside of me?
My mom and dad were great people, and so are my aunt and uncle and my cousin and her family. But your partner is supposed to be just that: your partner, the person by your side through anything. Somewhere along the line, as I was making allowances for Sarah and trying not to be upset at her for taking the out I offered, I forgot that’s what marriage is really supposed to be.
It’s late when we crawl into the tent, each of us collapsing on opposite sides with Junie and Sydney snuggled in the middle. But I stay up long into the night, staring at the sky through the open netting at the top, thinking about the woman who has blown my carefully crafted life apart in just a few months.
Or, maybe that’s wrong. Sarah blew up my life. Busy is helping me piece it back together.
I rest my head in my hand, propped up on my elbow, watching her as she sleeps, her soft breaths filling the tent. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone like this, like it’s the only thing that matters.
