22. Neavh

"Should we stop for lunch?"

I stare at Clover's back while she fits a new bit into her drill. Normally, I would find the sight of Clover using power tools extremely sexy, but I'm preoccupied with the fact that we've barely said more than a couple sentences to each other since I arrived to work on the yurt this morning.

"Oh," she says without looking at me. "Yeah. Probably."

Our days off from our other jobs have aligned this week, meaning we've planned to spend all day out at the yurt site to get the frame finished. Clover sets the drill down and then heads over to her dad's truck to grab her lunch. She drove out this morning with a load of tools. I follow after her to where I stashed my lunchbox alongside hers in the cab.

"Here." She backs out and hands me the brown paper bag I stuffed with a few Tupperware containers.

"Uh, thanks," I say as she brushes past me to sit down on the platform and dig into her sandwich.

I consider asking if she'd like some time alone.

Today is the first time I've seen her since the staff party, and I can't help wondering if she might have got struck by lightning during the storm and had her whole personality altered.

The Clover who greeted me at the site this morning is not the same Clover who bounded across the yard in a sunflower skirt to beam at me when I arrived at the party. I've tried asking what's wrong, but she's said she's fine every time. The tension radiating through her body and the way she's tearing into her sandwich like a predator going in for the kill say otherwise.

I step over to the platform and lower myself to a seat a couple feet away from her on the boards.

She doesn't say anything.

My stomach is churning, and even though my body is begging for calories after a whole morning of work, staring at the ham and cheese slapped between the bread just makes my nausea even worse.

I settle for pulling a Gatorade out of the bag and taking a few sips of the bright blue liquid before I try to brave solid food.

After another few seconds of silence punctuated only by the breeze shifting in the trees, I take a deep breath and prepare to ask Clover if there's anything she'd like to talk about.

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.

My stomach rolls, urging me to shut the hell up, and I snap my jaw shut without uttering a single word.

If I ask her that, I might get an answer, and something about her mood today tells me I won't like that answer. Something tells me the answer will be about us.

I take a few more sips of my drink. When Clover moves on from her sandwich to a bag of chips without showing any signs of striking up a conversation, I pull my phone out of my pocket.

Signal is sketchy this far out in the grounds, but even staring blankly at my screen sounds like a welcome alternative to sitting here with my skin crawling and my feet jittering with nerves.

Sure enough, the service bars are flickering between low and no signal. I scroll through a few apps that refuse to load before the service bars shoot up enough for a few email notifications to flash at the top of my screen.

I swipe to my inbox and find a message from an unfamiliar address. I only make it through the first couple lines of text before I gasp.

"Holy shit," I mutter as I race to read the rest.

"What is it?"

I glance up to find Clover staring at me, her head tilted and a handful of chips still held midway between the bag and her mouth.

"I'm getting the money."

The words don't sound real. Nothing about this feels real.

Clover looks even more confused than before.

"From Australia," I clarify as I look back down at the email, scouring the text to find some sort of a catch. "That farmer who tried to rip us all off has coughed up our wages. I'm getting over eight grand."

The number hasn't changed since the last time I looked at the screen. I blink a few times just to be sure, but it's still there.

A shocked laugh bursts out of me.

"Holy shit. Eight grand."

A grin blooms on my face as reality sinks in. I start doing rapid calculations in my head, pricing out flights and hostel stays.

Eight grand is a lot of nights in a hostel.

"I could stretch that out for so long," I say, the words tumbling out in a giddy rush as dollar signs continue to flash before my eyes, "depending on where I fly to. Combined with what I've made so far this summer, that's…wow."

I'm so caught up in processing the news I almost forget all about Clover, but I snap back to attention when she balls her chip bag up in her fist, crumpling it like she wishes it had a spine she could crush.

Despite the force of her actions, her face is an impassive mask. Her tone is measured and edged with frost when she says, "So that's it, then?"

I blink at her, my mind racing to figure out what she's talking about.

"What?"

She gets to her feet and steps off the platform before turning to face me.

"You're leaving, right?"

I keep gawking at her. "Huh?"

A muscle in her forehead twitches, and she crosses her arms as she begins to tap one of her feet against the ground in an erratic rhythm.

"You've got enough money, so now you're leaving."

She doesn't phrase it as a question.

I still don't know how we got from me getting a big chunk of money to me apparently jumping on a plane right this instant. Sweat pricks the back of my neck as I try to figure out what I'm missing here.

"I…I mean, eventually, yeah?"

"Yeah. Exactly." Clover dips her chin in a sharp nod, and I can see her fingers digging into her biceps, all her muscles tensed. "It was always the plan. What does it matter if you go a couple months earlier than expected?"

I feel like I'm about five steps behind her train of thought. I shove my phone back in my pocket and wrack my brain for what I can say to reel her back in line with me.

"Clover, I'm not jumping on a plane right this minute. I don't even know when I'll go. I literally just got the news, and—"

"Yeah. I get it," she interrupts. "It's fine. It really doesn't make a difference when you leave."

The words hit me like a kick in the chest.

I wince, and her stony expression slips for a second, revealing the pain underneath before she fits her controlled mask back in place.

"It makes a difference to me," I murmur.

She has to know that. After what happened that night we spent in this exact spot, after what we did, after what we felt, she has to know.

Maybe all she needs is for me to say it out loud.

"I'm not just here for the money anymore."

I tremble as I admit the truth, shaking like I've literally stripped myself bare.

She stares at me for a few long moments, and even though she does her best to stay expressionless, she can't hide the kaleidoscope of emotions shifting in her eyes.

Pain. Fear. Desire. Anger. Hope.

It's the hope that gives me the courage to get to my feet and jump down to stand in front of her.

We're only a foot apart when she whispers, "What are you here for?"

Our eyes lock.

"For…this."

I shake my head a little. I know that's not good enough. I need to truly say it.

"For this summer…with you."

Her lips part, and for a moment, I'm convinced she's going to lean in and kiss me. I tilt my head, ready for the rush of her lips on mine.

Instead, she springs away from me, fury lining her face. All I can do is stand there in shock as she begins to pace back and forth, digging her hands into her hair as she seethes.

"What even is this summer?" she demands. "What are we even doing?"

She doesn't even sound like she's speaking to me anymore. I swallow the lump that's risen in my throat and push down my panic enough to speak to her.

"Clover, has something happened?"

She freezes and then spins to face me, her gaze darting around the clearing like an animal backed into a corner.

"No, nothing has happened," she snaps. "I've just realized what a fucking idiot I'm going to look like when you leave. Again."

She spits the last word out with enough force to make me take a step back. A flash of guilt crosses her face when she notices my reaction.

She balls her hands into fists at her sides and keeps them clenched as she continues.

"This whole town knows you ditched me. I see the way people look at us now. I see the way my own family looks at me now. Everyone expects me to be absolutely destroyed when you leave, like I've made the exact same mistake all over again."

Mistake.

The word is a slap, harsh enough to make my ears ring and my vision spin.

I was a mistake.

I wrap my arms around my stomach as I fight the urge to curl up in a ball on the forest floor. Clover's shoulders shake, her face going pale when she realizes what she's said.

"That's not what I meant." She avoids looking at me as she begins to pace up and down the clearing. "Look, it's just, I thought it would make a difference if this was on my terms, if I was the one who said it would end after the summer, but that was stupid. It's not on my terms. It never has been. You'll leave whenever you want, whenever you get half a chance to keep traipsing around the world running away from all your problems, and—"

She goes silent when I gasp. I release my arms from around my stomach and clench my fists just like hers, my body bracing for a fight as the first pinpricks of anger jab at my skin.

Clover's face blanches again, and she stumbles to a halt.

"I'm sorry," she blurts. "That's not what I meant either. I—"

"What exactly did you mean?" I demand. "Is that how you see me? Is that what you think I'm doing?"

She sputters for a moment, but I cut her off before she manages to say anything.

"Leaving was the solution to my problems. You have no idea what it was like at home. You've never had to deal with anything like that. I—"

"Actually, I have." Her pale cheeks flood with red, and her nostrils flare as she lets out a sharp exhale. "I do know what it's like to watch your whole family fall apart, and guess what? I figured it out."

I take another step back, my firm stance slipping as I watch her turn into someone I don't recognize.

She doesn't stop talking this time. She doesn't say she's sorry or that she didn't mean it.

"You're just carrying the same old shit around with you hoping it'll go away," she continues, "but it won't, and you know what? You're just going to keep on leaving people for the rest of your life unless you stay somewhere long enough to deal with it."

My whole body goes rigid, like she's stabbed me straight through the chest. I stare at her with my mouth hanging open, before a switch flips and my instincts order me to fight, to defend, to protect myself from the pain by making her hurt too.

"At least I know how to stand up for myself."

My voice is hoarse and jagged, like broken glass.

She balks, her eyes flaring wide. "I know how to—"

"No. You don't." My voice is clearer now but still just as sharp. "Have you listened to yourself lately? You're here out of obligation. You're here because that was always the plan. You won't let yourself change. You're too afraid of what everyone else will think to actually be yourself."

Her bottom lip shakes for a split second, just enough for me to notice, before her face hardens and her eyebrows draw together in a firm line.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

I shake my head, tossing her argument aside like a leaf in the wind.

"Do you really think you'll be happy if you spend your whole life only seeing one part of one country? Do you really think that'll let you be the best scientist you can be? Is that really the life you want, or are you just sticking your head in the sand because you're scared to find out you might not actually be brave enough to do anything else?"

I know as soon as I'm done speaking that I've gone too far. Clover looks like she's shrunk down a few inches, like she's a plant I've wilted by stealing her sun.

"So that's what you think of me?" she asks, in a voice so quiet and tiny I can barely hear her. "You think I'm a coward?"

"Clover, no."

I rush to take a few steps forward, but she counters them with a step back.

I dig my hands into my hair, aching for a way to take it all back.

"I'm sorry. I don't think you're a coward. I—"

"No."

Her voice is still quiet, but it's got an eerie note of resignation that's enough to make my own voice die in my throat. Dread creeps up my spine like someone trailing jagged talons along my back.

"No," she repeats. "This is good. We've got it out in the open. I've said my piece, and you've said yours, and I think the truth is obvious."

My gaze rakes over her face, searching for any indication of what's coming next.

The truth isn't obvious to me, not when she sounds like that.

We stare each other down for what feels like hours even though it can't be more than a couple seconds before she speaks again.

"We're in the exact same place we were before."

Her gaze goes out of focus, like she's staring straight into the past instead of at me, now, in this moment as the person I am today.

"Nothing has changed," she says. "We're never going to understand each other. We're never going to work."

The lump in my throat swells up again, and all I can force past it is a choked sound that's almost a wail.

Clover flinches, but her tone doesn't change. She sounds like she's speaking at a funeral.

"It's the same story, Neavh. I stay, and you…you go."

I give my head a frantic shake, wringing my hands as I rock back and forth.

"I'm not going yet," I urge.

That has to matter. That has to change something.

She shakes her head too, much slower than I do.

"What difference does it make?"

I need to answer. I need to say something, but I'm past the point of using words.

"This."

I lunge for her, careening towards her until I can cradle her face in my hands.

My fingertips hover just above her cheeks, trembling, afraid to actually touch her in case she pushes me away.

She squeezes her eyes shut, breathing hard, but she doesn't tell me to stop.

I close the hair's breadth of a gap between my hands and her face. We both shiver at the contact. Her lips part, a sigh slipping past them.

"This is the difference," I murmur.

I feel the tension whoosh out of her body, her chin resting heavier in my palms, and for a moment, I let myself believe everything will be all right.

I stroke her temples and she sighs again, but when I shift one of my hands to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, she stiffens.

Before I have a chance to react, she springs away, her eyes flying open as she flings her arms out in front of her like she's warning me off.

My chest caves in as I watch the panic return to her eyes.

"I think you should go."

The words land with a heavy thump, like a guillotine slamming into place.

"W-what?"

She can't mean what I think she means. She can't mean this is done.

We were supposed to have so much time left. We were supposed to have time to figure this out.

I wished for it. I wished for enough chances to get this right.

"We're done with work for today," she says. "I…I can't do this right now."

"Clover…"

All I manage to get out is her name before my throat swells shut, clogged with everything I can't say, everything I don't know how to promise.

She's right about you.

That awful voice speaks up instead of me, the grating rasp echoing through my head.

You don't know how to do anything except leave.

I dig my fingernails into my palms, focusing on the sensation instead of the thoughts. I can't get caught up in my own head, not now. I need to focus. I need to make sure this is not the end.

"I need to clear my head, okay?" Clover says. "I just need to be alone right now."

I don't know how to make this better, and I'm petrified by the thought of making it worse.

"Okay."

I take a step back.

Then another.

I snatch my lunch bag off the platform and turn to start walking up the path.

I only look back once. By then, she's sitting on the platform again, her back to me, her shoulders hunched and her arms wrapped around her legs to form a tight ball.

I pause, waiting, convinced the force of my gaze will tell her everything I can't put into words, or at least do something to make sure this isn't the last look I get at her, but it's useless.

She doesn't turn around. I wait a few more seconds, and then I do exactly what she told me I was going to do all along.

I leave.