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Each group leader is supposed to blow their whistle at ten o’clock to call everyone back to the campfire. We need to go. There’s still a long trek back.

“Bram?” The rustle of someone kicking up leaves is behind us. “Is it time to leave?”

I shake my head to clear it. “Uh, yeah. We’re coming.”

“Okay.” The steps retreat. But more voices join theirs.

Trevor slides his hands to my forearms. The want misting his gaze has cleared.

I caress his cheek one more time. Desperation to touch him, taste him, know him in a way I haven’t allowed myself, clutches me with such force, it threatens to drop me to my knees.

But this isn’t the right time, or place, because Trevor deserves more than a quick groping in the woods with dozens of people, including my great-aunt, hanging around.

Maybe holding back is the smartest thing.

I lower my arms. Trevor does the same, and cold air sweeps in, making the loss of his touch more acute.

I stumble back a few steps on shaky legs. Being so close to Trevor has left me reeling. I gesture to the woods and what I hope is the general direction of the other members of the green team. “We have to head back.”

His eyes are too bright. His nod and smile are too tight and too quick.

Shit.

“Right. I’ll blow the whistle.” He steps away from me, braces his hand on a tree, and blows the whistle in a prolonged note that reminds me of the ref’s whistle signifying the end of a game.

It feels so… final. But it can’t be. I ignore the tightness of my skin, like all of the sudden it doesn’t fit me anymore, and tuck the camera into the backpack.

I wait for hi m while he ties his shoe, and know that whatever this is, it’s not the end.

We’re just beginning, and everything in my gut tells me Trevor feels the same.

We walk in silence to rejoin the others.

A few of our team members chatter about photos they took and what those images might reveal. I ask everyone questions about their night during the trek back to the campfire, with half of my attention on Trevor the entire time.

The glow of the campfire comes into view. People mill around, showing each other their phones and cameras. I’m surrounded by people wanting me to listen to sounds captured and see hair and bones collected and lose sight of Trevor in the chaos.

My phone vibrates with the alert that it’s time to wind things down. I jump onto the wide tree stump he and I shared at the start of the evening so everyone can see me. “Did you all have a good investigation?”

The group cheers.

Smiling, I continue, “You’ll all receive an email from me with an address for sending your audio and video files. Please leave any bags of physical evidence with your group leaders. Finn Hunnicutt, our local veterinarian, will analyze them.”

I spy Trevor standing with Ever and Dmitri on the edge of the crowd. Tension radiates from him. Did almost kissing him just fuck up our friendship?

A guy in the front row raises his hand. “When will our investigation be on your podcast?”

“Next Saturday’s podcast episode is devoted to Mabel. Our investigation will be the following Saturday. If you post a photo of tonight on social media, don’t forget to tag me or the podcast. Thanks for trusting me with your stories and for joining the search. Have a good night.”

More cheers and applause ring out .

I hop off the stump and almost bump into Jo. “How was your investigation?”

She tugs her lavender knitted beanie with an enormous pompom over her ears. “We captured some heat signatures and photos, and I got startled by an owl.”

Jake, Alaric, and Zach join us. Alaric, who is wearing a matching beanie, but in rainbow instead of lavender, hugs his cousin. “Jo did a great job keeping charge of us. Our group was more like herding cats.”

“Zach, what did you think?” I ask. “Did you find anything?”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t see Mabel or anything else, but it was a good time. I’d do it again. You can’t go wrong with the woods at night.”

Nodding, I clap him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you checked it out.”

The crowd thins, and Jake helps someone from the festival committee put out the fire.

Ever and Dmitri stop by to drop off their gear and their group’s evidence.

I’ve lost Trevor again. We drove together so he can’t have gone too far, but I feel itchy not knowing where he is. With Jo’s and Alaric’s help, I stow the gear and evidence in my SUV.

Once all the food is cleared, and the campsite looks the way it did when we arrived, I send my friends and the festival volunteers on their way.

When I turn around again, Trevor is walking back from the parking area. He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “I had to give directions to one of the out-of-towners.”

I watch him as he approaches, searching for any clue on his thoughts about that almost kiss.

His stride’s long and sure. His shoulders are bunched up a little, but that could be because the temperature has dropped and we’ve been out here for hours.

I sigh. The long day is catching up to me and my thoughts are muddled at best. And I have no idea what he’s feeling or thinking.

I want to ask, but also don’t, in case it’s something I’m not ready to hear. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

We climb into the car. I don’t know what to say, and he doesn’t say anything. Wrestling with whether I should bring anything up, or leave it alone, I drive out of the parking lot. The tension increases with every minute, winding its way around us until I feel like I’m being strangled by it.

Sitting in the static silence is too loud and too much. I start talking about the investigation, then my plan for collecting the trail cameras, and how I’ll sort through the evidence. He grunts and gives me monotone syllables in response.

The inn comes into view. I park in the spot closest to his house and he helps me unload the equipment. We leave everything in his woodworking garage. The dogs barking and clawing at the door welcome us inside.

Trevor drops his keys into the bowl by the door. Then he faces me with stiff posture and an unreadable expression. “I’m going to bed.”

His words hit me harder than the time I intercepted the ball during a playoff game and was tackled by a massive lineman, leaving me breathless and dazed. “Okay. I’ll head up soon.”

Calling for Bandit to follow, he takes the stairs at a slower pace than usual. I stand at the base of the stairs, keys in one hand, petting Hades with the other, my gaze glued to his retreating frame.

For the first time in the days I’ve been here, he closes his bedroom door all the way.

The click of the knob turning sounds so loud. And so final.