21. moon-light

21

MOON-LIGHT

DAY 18

We make it to the campsite before dark. Barely. The spot shows clear signs of use—a central fire pit boasting a blackened tripod for hanging pots, a few makeshift benches of sun-bleached wood atop rocks, and a generous area of mostly flat, shrub-free ground for the tents.

The sky is a hazy watercolor of purples and reds, and the distant mountains reflect the last fire of sunset. The sight is a breathtaking reminder of how vast the universe is, how small we are. As I unload my pack and stretch sore muscles, I feel the rare blessing of contentedness. For the moment, at least, there's nowhere else I need or want to be.

While Kinsey and Tiffany nurse their sore feet, the rest of us put up the tents in the last light of day. Three tents total, spaced about ten feet apart in a semicircle. Frank is bunking with Callum and Preston, Leo will share with Declan, and the three women have the last. When I see the tight fit of sleeping bags in our tent, however, I consider the appeal of sleeping beneath the sky .

That idea fades fast as the sun dips below the horizon and the temperature drops. As the rest of us pull on sweatshirts and pants, Frank starts a fire in the rock-bordered pit. Leo appears with dinner—a campfire pot and freeze-dried packages that he mixes with water. There are good-natured grumbles around camp about the rustic fare; that is, until the stew begins to heat, sending up a mouthwatering scent.

Darkness settles like a heavy blanket, the moon not yet risen. Despite its inherent stillness, the desert sings at night. Gentle gusts of wind carry to our ears the chorus of crickets, the muted flap of wings overheard, the hoots of owls, and the occasional patter of small critter feet. When it blows just right, we can even hear a trickle of water from the nearby hot springs.

Two high-powered halogen lamps illuminate the entirety of the camp as we gather for a meal of stew, fresh sourdough bread, and apples. Whether in reverence for nature or outright fatigue, when we speak, our voices are near-whispers.

I focus on my food, listening to the mellow chatter around me. A few times, I glance up to find Leo's eyes on me from across the fire. My crazy is in hibernation, though, because I can't hold his gaze for more than a second before looking away. It's too hard with him looking so unprofessional and… normal. The emotional distance between us feels blurred on my end, though I doubt he's experiencing the same confusion.

I'm his patient and he's my therapist. That's it. But right here, right now, as he smiles at something Callum is saying and the firelight flickers over relaxed, happy faces, I'm having trouble convincing myself we're not simply a group of friends on a weekend camping trip. Even focusing on Kinsey and Tiffany doesn't help—the exercise, fresh air, and full bellies have given both women blissful countenances.

I'm relieved when Frank asks me to help clean up dinner. I throw myself into the task of scrubbing the dishes and utensils with biodegradable soap and packing them away in a duffel behind one of the tents. I hide in the dark as long as possible, until Callum's voice finds me.

"Mia! Take off the apron. It's time for s'mores and Truth or Dare!"

Dragging my feet, I head back to the fire. One of the halogen lights has been turned off; the other is far enough away, set between two tents, that the night presses close. The campfire presses back, flickering brightly against the seven faces turned in my direction.

"I'm tired," I say artlessly.

Frank speaks first. "By all means, you can?—"

"Hell no!" interjects Kinsey. "Girl, get your ass over here. I'm reliving the youth I never had!"

And then comes the ultimate torture in the form of a deep, teasing tone. "Are you scared, Amelia?"

My eyes snap to Leo. Yes, you asshat . And do you really want to play? Did you forget how badly I want to break you? His smile slowly fades, though his gaze doesn't waver from my face. Steady challenge issues from his shadowed eyes.

Declan, who's sitting beside Leo, looks between the two of us, his brows lifting. Then he laughs. "Doc, your balls are definitely bigger than mine. If she were looking at me like that, I'd probably beg for my life."

"Pleeease, Mia?" begs Kinsey.

"Yeah, come on," adds Tiffany.

Callum squawks like a chicken. I break eye contact with Leo and stomp forward. Plopping cross-legged on the ground, I snatch a marshmallow from a pack and stab it with a stick.

"Commence the bonding," I announce, then point my stick-impaled marshmallow around me. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Oh, oh, I'll start!" chirps Kinsey. Her knees bounce as she chews her lip in thought. "Mia, truth or dare."

I flip her off and everyone laughs. "Truth."

"Really?" whispers Callum, surprised at my choice.

I'm surprised, too. It just slipped out.

Frank clears his throat loudly. "Do we need to lay down some ground rules?"

Kinsey waves him off. "No. I'll go easy. So, Mia… most embarrassing memory, please."

"Boring," mutters Declan.

I don't even have to think about the answer. "When I was in eighth grade, I got my period for the first time in the middle of class while wearing white pants. I didn't know it had happened until I stood up and a boy behind me screamed that I'd pooped blood and was dying."

When the laughter fades, I look around the group, squashing my first impulse to pick Leo. "Tiffany, truth or dare? "

"Dare."

"Hmm. Okay, I dare you to braid Frank's beard."

Both Tiffany and Frank groan in protest, but the result is worth it. The attention is off me, and Frank's biker-long beard sits in a perfect French braid.

Declan goes next, then Callum, then Preston. Frank dares Declan to eat a raw egg, which is produced from a cooler and downed with disappointing ease. Callum and Preston both choose truth, but the mood stays light, both the questions and their answers funny.

"Okay, um, Doctor Chastain?" asks Preston hesitantly. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Do you have any hobbies? If so, what are they?"

"Come on, P-man!" exclaims Callum. "That's totally lame."

Preston shrugs indifferently.

"Yes, I do have hobbies," answers Leo. "I like to hike, mountain bike, kayak… really anything outdoors. Let's see, I also collect books—first editions—and my favorite evenings are spent reading at home, listening to jazz and smoking an imported cigar."

Everyone gets a kick out of the response, especially Kinsey. "Do you also enjoy romantic dinners and sunset walks on the beach?"

Leo grins, eyes sparkling. My stomach tightens and drops to my toes. I can't take it anymore. I just can't.

I leap to my feet. "I'm going to bed," I announce and beeline for the tent amidst surprised protest .

Not until I'm inside do I realize I should probably pee, maybe brush my teeth… Fuck it. I drop face-first onto my sleeping bag and pull the hood of my sweatshirt up to block the sound of voices.

It takes a while, but eventually my body overrules my brain and delivers me to sleep.