Chapter 8

8

Mack

The snowfall isn't a great sign. I glare at it as I struggle to stuff the camping equipment away in the back of the car. It's all brand-new since life in the wilderness isn't exactly high on Davey's and my to-do list, but that's okay. This is going to be great.

Though, the snow does mean there's unlikely to be any swimming … or lizards …

Fuck. Okay. Pivot.

Fire. We can do fire. And s'mores—everyone loves those. I scuff a hand over my short hair, ignoring the way my heart is beating rapidly. This is all okay, it's going to be fine. Not only do we need to have the type of magical weekend where Davey swallows his tongue over being reminded how much he loves us more than work, but I also really, really need to give him something to make him forget last week's LEGO incident .

I still can't believe that happened. It was the exact opposite of what I'm trying to do here, and even though Davey told me it was fine and we scooped up all the pieces together into a box, there was tension around his eyes that's only there when he's holding everything in.

I don't want him to hold everything in. I want him to be happy.

Davey crosses the snow-sprinkled yard, carrying Van while Kiera kicks at the white frost behind him.

"Are we, uh …" He catches sight of the tent. "Ready to go?"

"Sure are!" I up my grin a notch and scoop a squealing Kiera off the ground before rounding the car to buckle her in. This is going to be great. So great.

We get to the campsite, and I can feel Davey's stare burning into the side of my face. I'm sure it means nothing that we're the only ones here.

The trees are stripped of leaves, and snow is lumped between the struggling grass poking through. But it's already started melting, so I'm taking that as a good sign. Even Mother Nature is on my side.

About time someone was.

Our campsite is right on the water, which would have been a good thing in the summer but now feels way too exposed to the elements as I pull the car to a stop and look out at it. I'm wavering on the edge of taking us back home again when a picture of the four of us laughing around the fire as we cook s'mores flashes through my mind.

It's going to be perfect. We can do this.

Then I get the whiff of something nasty.

"Urg … Van ." Of course he couldn't have waited until we got all set up .

I glance over at Davey, who holds up his fist, and we rock, paper, scissors who's going to change it.

It's only when Davey loses and jumps out of the car that I remember I'm supposed to be making this weekend good for him and probably should have just dealt with the poop. Changing a stinky diaper does not set us off to a good start.

Okay. Tent. I can do that. The guy at the store said it's a super-easy one to put together, which is a relief because I've never done it before, and truthfully, I want Davey to be kind of impressed that I'm capable of these sorts of things. I don't just talk books and charm old ladies, thank you very much.

I unzip the bag it comes in and stand back to look at the overwhelming lump of canvas inside.

Right.

Tent.

We can do this.

I keep one eye on Kiera down by the water and pull everything out. It looks like more of the frame is already inside, so I follow the instructions step by step, and—holy fuck—it was easy. I'm mind-blown that the thing took almost no effort on my behalf.

Van goes tearing inside it as Davey comes over.

"Looks good."

"Only the best for my family," I say, throwing my arm around his shoulders.

His hand finds my back, and even through the layers of clothing, it's comforting.

"So … camping."

"Griff said they used to love it when Felix was little."

"Griff's behind this. Got it."

"Do you … is this okay?" I turn to look at Davey. His face is so close to mine I get this wash of nerves deep in my gut. It 's been so long since I've seen his face up close like this, and my memory revels in his dark freckles, his long eyelashes, the flecks of warm brown in his dark eyes.

He gets that amused, indulgent expression I love so much. "We'll make it work."

Almost as soon as he says that, there's a loud splash, and Kiera shrieks.

"Daddy!"

We race toward the water's edge, where she's slipped and landed on her butt in freezing cold water. Her coat is saturated, her boots are full, and her little teeth are knocking together as I hoist her up out of the water.

My sleeves are instantly soaked as I carry her back up to the car, starting to shiver myself.

"What were you doing?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even. I'm not going to yell at her for slipping, but come on, Kiera , we're trying to get Daddy back here.

"There was a p-pretty rock."

A pretty rock. A pretty fucking rock.

I bite down my frustration and grab her bag. "Next time, ask for help."

"S-sorry, Dad." Her big eyes fill with tears, and I'm obviously not doing a good enough job of hiding my emotions. Which hits me right in the heart.

"No, baby, it's okay." I wrap her in my arms, which doesn't help either of us when they're all wet too. "Shit, wait. Let's get changed, and then we'll hug."

She giggles. "You said shit."

Well, fuck. "That doesn't mean you get to say it."

The wind is fucking freezing and picking up as I lock us in the car with the heat up. Then I strip her off and pull on some warm clothes. We only brought one pair of gloves, so that was stupid on my part, and it takes a few minutes of cuddling before our hands are warm enough to venture back outside.

Davey and Van are throwing rocks into the water, and I haul Van back.

"Didn't we just go through this with Kiera?"

"I'm not going to let him slip," Davey sighs.

"Me throw it. Me throw rocks." Van struggles in my arms, and when he squirms his way out, he runs back to join Davey again. I watch as he grabs a fistful of dirty gravel and throws it into the water, which flicks up toward him.

"Sure. Teach our son to throw rocks. Wonderful."

Davey sends me an unimpressed look.

I remind myself to cool it. We can talk about that later. Everything is fine here.

"I'm going to set up our beds," I say. "Do not let Kiera get wet again. She's only got one more change of clothes."

"I got thi—" He turns toward me, and his smile slips off his face. "Umm … where's the tent?"

"What?" I spin around, and sure enough, the tent has disappeared.

Disappeared.

"It was just there!"

"It's fine. It can't have gone far," he reasons, passing me to go look.

I scramble after him, and we find the tent in a ditch on its side, tangled in a crop of what was bushes before they lost their leaves. One corner has dipped into the river and is taking on water.

"Oh no."

I shoot forward to grab it, and Davey helps me free the stupid thing that is fucking stupid. The wind keeps trying to pick it up, and the damn tent is acting like a sail.

By the time we get it back to where it was, I'm starting to sweat, and Davey's curls are a wild mess.

"I think we're supposed to peg it," he says.

Of course we fucking are.

We find the pegs, and I have no fucking hammer to set them in, so we go around, one by one, trying to stomp them into the hard earth. My foot hurts, even with my heavy boots on, my undershirt is sticking to my back, Davey's dark face is flushed with exertion, and today is rapidly swirling away from me.

We need this tent up. Then I can get the bedding, and we'll read some books and play some games before we get started on the fire. It will be perfect.

Splash!

"Arg! Dadda!"

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

My eyes meet Davey's wide ones. There's a split second of what-the-fuck-have-we-done that passes between us before he shakes it off.

"I'll take this."

He goes to grab Van, and my head falls back toward the lumpy white sky. I can still save this. I can.

Only story time turns into Kiera and Van nonstop arguing over which book to read, and then Van keeps trying to join in our card game and scatters the Uno deck everywhere. Kiera gets angry that he isn't playing properly, and when I snap at her for throwing her cards, she bursts into tears.

Van follows, because why the fuck not, and I'm seconds away from following them too .

The headache building behind my eyes isn't helping matters.

"Fire. I'm making a fire." It's the only thing I can think of to salvage this. The body heat must have built up in the tent because it's fucking freezing outside. I zip my puffer jacket up my chest and duck my face into my scarf as I go in search of wood I can use. There's a fuckload of bare branches that will be perfect for this kind of thing, and I wonder if being cold will be a problem. I've never done this before, but I bought kindling and some matches, so I'm already one up on Bear Grylls.

YouTube is my friend, and it takes me half the box of matches before anything happens, but I finally get a small flame. Which goes out quickly.

"Fuck my life," I say, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment.

"Hey …" Davey's hand rests on my shoulder as he crouches beside me. "Everything okay?"

"Me? Yeah. Fine."

"You seem stressed."

"Stressed?" My voice jumps up a notch. "Look where we are. This is beautiful. And I'm with my amazing family. What on earth would I be stressed for?"

Davey smiles kindly at me as he takes the matches and gets the fire lit. "Kids are a lot."

"Why don't they appreciate this?" I huff.

"Who said they don't?"

I gesture dramatically back toward the tent. "All they've done is complain."

"They're little people with big emotions. Their bodies are too small to hold all that in, so it spills out. We're lucky to be the safe space where they can do that. "

I flick a confused look toward him but can't handle this conversation right now. "Just … sucks."

"Why are we here, Mack?"

"Family weekend. We haven't done one of those in forever."

He presses his lips tighter, like he's trying not to smile. "But why, during winter, did you think this is where we should spend the weekend?"

So I didn't think it through—it's not like I need that pointed out to me. Instead of answering, I shout over my shoulder, "Who wants marshmallows?"

Kiera and Van immediately answer the save me cry and come tearing out to join us. The lingering look Davey gives me tells me this is far from over though.

After a burned lip, two burned fingers, Van's scraped palms, and a barely edible dinner, we climb into the tent for bed. The kids are out quickly, but I lie there, listening to the wind tossing things back and forth outside, with Kiera's foot in my face, and stare at the canvas overhead, dreading another day of this.

Davey's hand finds mine, and he gives it a light squeeze. I look over at where Van is sleeping over his neck.

"This … this was okay … right?" I whisper.

Davey's indulgent look is back. "I loved it."

I can't stop the scoff that leaves me. "That's an exaggeration."

"I'm with my family. You're right, we do need to do this more."

Something about the look on my face makes him laugh.

He squeezes my hand again, tighter this time. "But we can definitely go home in the morning."

"Oh, thank god," I groan, covering my eyes. As happy as I am to not have to keep this going, it doesn't help that the only reason for that is I failed.

I'm an idiot.

If anything, I've probably pushed Davey further away from us than ever.