15. Only One Tent

15

Only One Tent

Deacon

As soon as I hopped out of bed this morning, I laced up my running shoes. And with each stride, I feel better and better. There's nothing more relaxing than jogging around a lake. You'd think a good night's sleep would do the trick—and I thought I'd finally have that here. But I wasn't accounting for the fact that I'd be sleeping in the same house as Alice Beaumont.

And by "sleep," I mean lie in my bed while thinking about her lying in bed next door. It's a good thing her bedroom back home shares a wall with the spare bedroom, and not mine, or I would never get any sleep. Still, having her here feels right somehow. Like it was always supposed to be this way.

Alice and Lola stayed back at the cabin to prep for our hike slash camping trip this afternoon. Even if I have zero chance of getting any sleep tonight, I'm still looking forward to it. I don't know if Lola's plea for independence was genuine, or if she just wanted to play with my nerves. But either way, it's working.

The thing is, if circumstances were different, I might have reconsidered my lone-wolf policy and asked Alice out. As the thought surfaces, I almost bump into a tree. What am I thinking? Alice doesn't want to date me anyway. As if I'd ever have a shot with a girl like her. She's way too precious, not to mention her expectations are higher than Mount Washington. Plus, I already have one girl to look after in my life, and that's plenty.

I'm tempted to keep running. If I push a little further, I'll reach my old house and my grandma's. My chest constricts, and I stop, holding a tree for support as I catch my breath. No. Going there would dredge up too many memories, and I don't want to see what the new couple has done with the place. Besides, we have a three-mile hike coming up this afternoon. I don't want to tire myself out before we even start.

When I return to the house, Lola and Alice are sitting on the back porch, chatting, and I can't help but notice how nice it feels to come home to this. And for the first time, the idea of having a family doesn't scare or repulse me. It's actually soothing.

"What's going on with you?" Lola calls, her eyebrows scrunched together. Alice is wearing the same look.

My eyes widen slightly. "Nothing. Um, let's get ready for our trip. We'll head out right after lunch."

A few hours later, we pack up the last of our gear, drive to the trailhead, and pull into the parking lot. With our backpacks strapped on, we start walking in silence. While I don't mind the quiet, I wonder if the girls are bored. Lola is probably fine with it. But I've never known Alice to stay quiet for more than two minutes at a time. The trees loom high over us, which makes for great visibility beneath the canopy. That's why I chose this trail. It's an easy hike, and the terrain is mostly flat. Really, it's more walking than hiking. I'm not complaining, though, considering I have most of the equipment and food on my back.

"So," Alice says, breaking the silence, and a smile pulls at my lips. Knew it. "Should we play a game? "

"What kind of game?" Lola asks, her curiosity obviously piqued.

"Two truths and a lie. Do you know it?" She looks at me.

I arch an eyebrow. "Do I look like a game person?"

Lola chokes out a laugh, and as always when it comes to my niece, I don't mind being a source of entertainment.

"It's easy," Alice says. "We each say two truths and one lie about ourselves, and the others have to guess which one is the lie."

"Okay," Lola replies, fiddling with the straps of her bag. "I'll go first. Let me think."

Alice throws me a knowing look, and I give her a small smile.

"Got it," Lola chirps after a few minutes. "I've danced on a Broadway stage. I can do a one-handed cartwheel. My favorite color is black."

"Oh," Alice says, her eyes sparkling. "Good one. What do you think, Deacon?"

"Um," I say, racking my brain. "Maybe the cartwheel thing?"

"I don't know," Alice says, tapping her finger on her lip while Lola giggles. "That seems too obvious, not to mention easy for a dancer. So does the Broadway thing. On the other hand, I've never seen you wear much black." She eyes Lola suspiciously, and Lola averts her eyes, holding in her laughter.

"Wow, you're good," I tell Alice. Lola is now laughing so hard, we don't even need to ask. Who knew such a simple game would be this fun for her? I'll admit, it's not that bad. "You go next," I tell Alice.

"Fine." She nods. "I already know what I'm going to say. I've read over four hundred books. Ice cream is my favorite snack. I can't drive a stick shift."

I narrow my eyes, trying to gauge her expression, but she's not giving anything away. I peer at Lola, who's deep in thought.

"I'm pretty sure she's read four hundred books," Lola says. "Probably more."

"Agreed." I nod. "I think the stick shift is a lie, I'm pretty sure everyone drives stick in Europe."

Lola smiles. "Good point."

"Wrong!" Alice exclaims through bouts of chuckles. "I can't drive stick. I have tried, and it's true that a lot of Europeans do, but they recently introduced the driving license for automatic cars, and that's how I got mine, which means I can only drive automatics."

"Wait." Lola stops, frowning. "You don't like ice cream? But I've seen you eat it. Oh, no, it's just not your favorite snack! "

"Exactly." Alice bumps her shoulder with Lola's, a bright smile on her face. She then turns her head to me. "Okay, now your turn."

Oh, boy. What have I gotten myself into? But as I start thinking about my truths and lies, a grin pulls at my lips. Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

We find the spot I had in mind, and it's as beautiful as I remember. A clearing next to a sparkling waterfall that cascades from a high rock formation. We set up both tents—well, I'm doing most of the work—then sit down to eat our picnic, finishing our evening with s'mores over the fire pit I put together. The perfect night.

"So, did you bring your guitar?" Alice asks, a teasing glint in her eye.

I furrow my brow. "What are you talking about?"

"Isn't that how camping usually goes? Eating s'mores by the fire, listening to someone play guitar as we all sing along."

Alice and her clichés. I shake my head. "Sorry, to disappoint, Frenchie. I don't play guitar, but you're more than welcome to sing."

Lola chuckles. "Yes, please do. "

And with that, she starts singing—not too badly, I might add—and Lola joins her. Soon, they're badgering me to sing along, and I have no choice but to succumb.

My voice is far from a professional singer's. Well, maybe one that's being strangled. A flock of birds take flight from a nearby tree in a whoosh, and I feel kind of bad for breaking their peaceful night.

Finally, yawns overwhelm the conversation, and we decide to call it a night. The moment I've been dreading, but also eagerly anticipating—sharing a tent with Alice.

After Lola and Alice go into the woods for a bathroom break, we say goodnight, and I let Alice get changed in the tent before I go in. I can't tell what she's wearing, since she's already wrapped in the sleeping bag I brought for her. But somehow, she looks even cuter like that. I never thought that would be possible, or that I'd find "cute" attractive.

I shake the thoughts out of my head. "Comfortable?"

She nods. "Yeah. It's not that bad."

The tent is pretty small, but we both fit comfortably on our backs. I lie down next to her, crawling into my own sleeping bag. "You're not cold? ‘Cause I have a spare sweatshirt you can borrow."

"I'm good. This sleeping bag is really warm. "

"Great," I say, swallowing hard. This is more awkward than I thought it would be.

"Well, good night," Alice says, and I nod even though she can't see me.

"Good night."

I close my eyes, trying to fall asleep, but my heartbeat is thrumming in my ears. I won't get one minute of sleep tonight. I just know it. Between Alice lying next to me, and the fact that we're in the middle of the woods, my senses are on high alert.

"Argh!" Alice shouts, sitting up and hitting my torso like a maniac. "There's something on me!"

I grab my phone from beside me and switch on the flashlight. She looks frantic, her hair disheveled and her eyes crazed, like the time she called me to kill that poor spider.

"Please tell me it's not a spider." She bends her head so I can check her hair.

I press my lips to suppress my smile as I look for the culprit. "It's a leaf." I grab it and show it to her.

"Oh," she exhales, a hand on her chest and a smile forming on her lips. "Thank you."

"You really don't like the outdoors, do you?" I ask, lying back down .

She does the same and lets out a small giggle. "Is it that obvious?"

My lips tilt into a smile. "Just a little."

As her laughter dies down, she sighs. "Not a big fan, I'll admit. I'm just a simple person who enjoys long walks down bookstore aisles, not in the forest."

Now I'm the one who laughs. "Is that on one of your brooches?"

"No, but it should be," she says with a chuckle.

"Thank you for coming, though. It means a lot."

"Sure. Lola is a good kid, and I know all too well the struggle of losing a mother . . ."

"Oh?" I ask, my throat constricting. Alice is such a happy person, smiling and laughing all the time. It's hard to imagine she's known trauma or death. Especially the trauma of losing a parent.

"My mom died when I was eight. She was the sweetest person, and I wish I'd had more time with her. Our dad raised us well, and I love him, but a girl needs a woman to look up to. My dad eventually got remarried to Yvette, who's the best stepmom anyone could hope for, but I was seventeen by then."

"I'm sorry," I say, though my words come out as a grumble. I've never been good at expressing my sympathy. Besides, I know my words won't change anything .

"Thank you." I hear her shift. "Living in the US makes me feel close to her again. She was American," she explains before I can ask. "My brother and I were born here, and we all lived in Philly until we moved to France for my dad's work. Then, my mom got sick. So in a way, I am French," she says, and I can almost picture her faint smile, "but also American."

Only Alice can smile while reliving her loss, and that makes my heart twist, clench, and run a whole marathon in my chest.

"Where in France did you live?" I ask, wanting to know everything about Alice.

"Alsace, so in the Northeast part of the country. I loved it there, and I miss it a lot, especially my dad. I'm actually going back this summer with my brother and Hayley."

I take a moment to let her words sink in. "What do you prefer? Alsace or New York?"

She chuckles. "They're two very different places. I love both, but if I had to choose, I'd choose Brooklyn because that's where I feel most like myself. I do what I love with people I love, and there is no better feeling in the world. Have you ever been to France?"

That draws a laugh from me. "Before moving to Brooklyn, I spent all my life within the Sycamore Springs city limits. If you don't count the few trips I took to see Amelia and Lola before that."

She's quiet for a moment. "Were you and your sister close?"

I shrug. "Honestly, I'm not sure. She told Lola we were, and while that was true as kids, we drifted apart when she moved away. She was always so independent. Lola's dad was never in the picture, but Amelia handled everything like a pro, even at a young age. She didn't come back here often, enjoying her life in New York and, well, I wasn't a fan of the city."

"Are you? A fan of the city now, I mean? You used past tense."

I smile. "Our street isn't so bad. The neighbors are a little intrusive, but . . ."

"I think you mean ‘loud.'" She pokes my arm with her finger.

"‘Sensitive ears' is what I was going for," I tease. For a moment, I debate telling her why I crank up my music every morning. Weirdly, it feels natural to talk with her about it. Dr. S. would definitely encourage me. "The music was a way to block out the noise in my head." I clear my throat. "I wasn't exactly there for Amelia in the end, and I hate myself for it. Even if she lived in the city, I should have visited more often."

"Don' t beat yourself up, Deacon. You don't hold any responsibility for what happened to her."

Dr. S. said the same thing, and now Alice. The rational part in me wants to believe that, but I'm a pretty irrational man. "I lost my mom too," I add, not sure why I'm still babbling about my personal history to her. It's not exactly my style, but she opened up about her past, and it feels right. "It was my dad's fault; he was driving drunk and crashed the car over a bridge."

She lets out a gasp. "Oh, Deacon. I am so sorry."

Guilt rises in my throat. "My father has been in prison ever since."

"So, who raised you and your sister?"

"Our grandmother—a true angel, although she was a bit of a grouch," I say, feeling a smile on my lips. "We were lucky to have her. Thanks to my grandma, our childhood was somewhat normal. She died a few years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm glad she was there to care for you and your sister."

I stay silent, and a few seconds later, I feel Alice's hand on mine. She turns my palm and takes it in hers. The touch is both electrifying and oddly soothing. A bizarre mix that goes straight to my chest.

"I'm here for you, Deacon."

"Thank you, Frenchie. "

And for the first time since my grandma died, I really feel like I have someone to count on. That I'm not alone in this world. I never thought that would make me feel so warm and at ease. Alice and I keep our conversation going for hours, and I can't believe how easy it is to talk to her. Turns out, I'm not such a loner after all.