Page 41 of Meeting Me, Loving You (Hearts of Maple Lake #1)

CAMERON

I sit at the dinner table and poke at my mashed potatoes, moving it around with a fork—nothing seems appetizing. I’ve just told my parents I want to major in math education, and they’re not happy about it.

Mom leans forward in her chair at one end of the long table. “I just don’t see why you would want to be cooped up in a classroom with children.” She says this last word with an air of disgust. “There’s nothing… dignified about it.”

“Your mother’s right, Cameron,” Dad chimes in from the other end of the table. “We’ve always expected more of you. You carry the Dunne name—you’ll go to college for something more worth your time and worth our money.”

I look up, turning my head back and forth to see them both. Why do they always have to sit so far apart?

“I don’t want to do anything else,” I state. “Schools need teachers, and I’m really good at math. It’s a lot of fun to tutor, so I think teaching in a classroom would be perfect for me.”

“It’s not about having fun. It’s about working your way up the ladder,” says Dad.

“Once a teacher, always a teacher. There’s no glory in that.

But if you start now with your undergrad in law, there are multiple avenues you could choose from.

Your name could be known country-wide as one of the best lawyers. ”

“But I don’t want to be a lawyer,” I mumble.

“Believe me, you do.”

“No, I don’t. I want to help people, kids in particular. I want to use numbers, and ? —”

“You’ll enjoy numbers when you’re counting up your salary earnings from a prestigious position of employment. I won’t hear any more of this teacher talk. Finish your food.”

My father’s gaze is cold and unyielding. Turning to my mother, her eyes are no more reassuring. Lowering my head, I continue to push the steamed carrots around on my plate.

Why are my parents like this? Why can’t they be supportive of me?

While every high school senior is excited to apply for college, I’m dreading it.

I don’t want to be a lawyer or anything else my parents think is more worthy of my time.

My whole life has been dictated by them.

But right here, in this moment, I vow I won’t be pushed into a lifelong profession I don’t want.

I’m going to be a teacher, even if I have to move out and pay my own way through school.

I stab a carrot and put it in my mouth, chewing it quickly. And then, I eat every last bite.

My hand twitches, shaking off a bothersome fly, but I’m careful to not pull the line in the water.

My bare shoulders are red from the hot sun and the water laps at my boots as I stand on the edge of the river.

The Kittappy River reaches a good three hundred feet to the other side, making it perfect for both fishing and rafting in the warm season .

It’s been three weeks since I kissed Juliet in the boat, and we haven’t spoken since.

My last text to her was a simple apology, but I know I owe her far more than that.

I just haven’t been able to figure out what to say because, no matter what I come up with, she’s going to be hurt.

I can’t be with Jules. She deserves more than what little I could give her.

Like I told her on the boat, she’d only come to see my faults, and I’ve been running from my faults for a long time.

Growing up with controlling parents, it became a defense mechanism to shut out anyone I might get close to for fear of them wanting to change me, to make me fit their idea of perfect.

I can’t help that I’ve completely fallen for Jules, that I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

I need her more than I need oxygen, but I can’t put myself through the inevitable heartbreak that’s sure to follow if I went down that path.

She can’t love me. No one does. So I’m just going to have to live without breathing.

I make mistakes; I’m not perfect. I’m scared that if I tether myself to someone, they would begin to see all my flaws and eventually hate me for them.

My father told me I couldn’t make it in the world as a teacher, that spending time with children wasn’t the lifestyle of a Dunne.

I hated my last name when he would say that, like I was supposed to be just another version of him.

And my mother wasn’t much better. She liked the idea of me being a successful businessman or a lawyer, something that held more esteem than a mere teacher.

Together they encouraged me to get good grades and join sports, which was fine if it had stopped there.

But it became obvious to me, even as a teenager, they only really wanted me to be successful so they could have something to brag about to their friends.

When they weren’t nagging me to do better when I was already doing my best, they would practically ignore me.

I was either pushed to fill a perfect mold, or I was invisible. It’s only a matter of time before Jules sees that I’m not good enough for her either. And why should I be? I’ve never been good enough for anyone, including my own parents.

With school out for the summer, I’m free to enjoy the things I really love to do in these mountains. So, five days ago, I set up camp along the river. Usually I would love the time away from people, away from the classroom and responsibility, but I’ve been struggling to keep Juliet off my mind.

My heart constricts at the memory of her face after I pulled away from her, her eyes brimming with tears. She didn’t look like she was even listening anymore as I tried to explain my reasoning for ending things before they truly started.

But I hate myself even more than I thought possible because it’s my fault she got attached the way she did.

I knew I was becoming vulnerable around her, letting my guard down while she did the same.

I should have gotten better control of myself.

All the moments I couldn’t refrain from pressing against her shoulder or flirting with her have all piled into one big heap of a disaster.

I’ve flirted with girls in the past knowing it would never turn into something bigger, but it’s been proven that nobody has ever come close to being Juliet Berns.

Her silence on the boat and the sadness on her beautiful face completely shattered me, and those wide brown eyes are now burned into my mind, full of tears streaking down her face. She had finally trusted someone and allowed herself to hope for more for herself, and I squashed it.

Angry at myself, I snatch my hat and throw it to the ground, letting out a groan of frustration.

Fishing typically clears my mind, but not this week.

For the past three weeks, I haven’t been able to focus on anything.

I can’t chop wood in preparation for next winter because I envision Jules at the cabin, sitting on the porch with Dax.

I can’t see any of my coworkers or friends because all I think about is what it would feel like to have Juliet beside me, laughing with me and gifting me with her smile that I love.

When I try to sit down and work on lesson plans for the start of a new school year, I envision her long hair wrapped around my hand and smell her sweet vanilla scent, distracting me from anything productive.

I thought spending a few days away from everything would clear my mind, but the silence has only made my desire to see Jules stronger than ever. To make matters worse, I haven’t even caught a single fish. It’s like they can feel the tension in my body through the line and they’re scared off.

Reeling it in, I pick up my hat and walk the twenty feet from the riverbank to my campsite where I have a tent set up, a hammock hanging between two trees, and a fire pit dug into the dirt.

The ground is still damp from the light rain last night, but the rainfly over my tent has finally dried and I’ll be able to pack it up.

I woke up early and sat by the fire until it was light, but it became clear pretty quickly that I won’t be catching any fish this trip, and I won’t be getting Jules off my mind anytime soon either.

After packing up my gear, I make the short hike back to my truck, equipment under both arms and filling my backpack to the brim.

The truck is at the end of a turn off from the main road, a little spot only locals know about.

This stretch of the river is well known for largemouth bass, but we townsfolk like to keep it to ourselves.

I like that there are things about Maple Lake that’s kept only for us, untainted by tourists who might ruin the integrity of this space.

It’s not uncommon to find trash scattered on the busiest trails or near the lake beach, left by people visiting from the city.

Unfortunately, they don’t always respect the land like those of us who call it home .

I throw everything into the bed of my truck and start the drive back. I haven’t had cell service during my time out here, so once I finally get closer to town, my phone pings with a message. Looking down, I see it’s a message from Tyler.

This can’t be good.

I’m sure Jules has told Tyler everything, and now he’s texting to yell at me. If that’s the case, maybe I should be grateful he isn’t calling me right now.

Deciding to look at the text later when I have the time to respond, I continue the drive home in silence.

Summer is in full bloom. Every tree I pass is lush with large green leaves that reach to the sky, and the sun dances on the windshield as I drive under the canopy of branches stretching over the road. It’s beautiful, making me think of Jules.

I open the window and run my hand through my hair, hoping the wind will blow away my thoughts and leave this ever-present dread behind me.

But the wind does little to placate my thoughts, just like the sunshine and my fishing trip did nothing to release me from the suffocating regret that’s been growing like a weed in the pit of my stomach.

The feeling makes me sick and, if I’m being honest, I haven’t been taking care of myself the way I should these last few weeks.

I’ve stopped eating proper meals, the food sitting like rocks inside of me.

Nothing in my house is where it should be.

I’ve completely lost the will to care about things like organization and cleanliness, things that usually would drive me crazy if not done properly.

I haven’t been going to the gym, worried I might see her and change my mind.

I know if I were to see her, even for a second, I’d want to touch her and hold her in my arms. I would never want to let go.

But right when thoughts of giving in to my feelings sneak into my mind, reality comes crashing down like a tsunami, crushing whatever hope I have to the ground. It wouldn’t work.

But what if she were the exception? What if she accepted me for who I am? What if Jules truly was happy with me and we could make a life together in Maple Lake?

A tidal wave of reality splits my heart down the middle and gives me a headache. I’m meant to be alone because I’ll never be perfect. And people want perfect. I’ve got to stop thinking about Jules, and I’ll try just about anything to chase her from my daydreams.

Once I’m home and I’ve unpacked all my camping and fishing equipment, I sit on the couch and check Tyler’s text.

Tyler

Hey man, I’m coming up next week for my birthday. I’m planning to pack up the kayak and head down the river to camp. Want to come?

An invitation wasn’t what I was expecting. Did Jules not tell Tyler about our kiss on the boat? Or about how I might have broken her heart that day on the lake?

Sounds great. I’ll be there. Send me a list of what I should bring and when and where to meet.

I doubt Jules is going with him since he didn’t mention anyone else. Should I ask?

No, that would be too obvious if I bailed because I found out she was going too. But if she is there, it will be weird for both of us. I should just text her.

I scroll to her name in my old text messages, seeing my apology was left on read.

She never texted me back—I didn’t expect her to.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard but my mind is completely blank on what to say.

Hey, are you kayaking with Ty next week?

I need to know so I don’t go and make it more awkward for us.

No, that wouldn’t make things any better.

I decide not to text her at all and just hope she won’t show up.