Page 21

Chapter Twenty-One

TYLER

People do this for fun .

I hold back a groan as I shift in my sleeping bag. No matter what position I’m in, there’s a rock under my shoulder blade. It sounds impossible, but every time I move, it ends up stuck right back in the same spot.

Light streams through the tent’s fabric, so at least this time, it’s morning. A nice change from the last dozen times I’ve woken up throughout the night. Graham seems so peaceful, curled up on his side, the front of his sleeping bag tucked under his chin. His soft snores fill the quiet of the space, and for a moment, I’m content to simply listen to him sleep.

The moment ends when my bladder becomes insistent. Sadly, tents don’t come with an ensuite bathroom, which means a trek across the campground to the communal bathrooms.

Those are words I never thought I would use.

I wiggle my way out of my sleeping bag, limiting my movement as much as possible to let Graham sleep a few more minutes. On all fours, I make my way to the front of the tent and find the zipper. It takes a few tentative movements before I figure out the right way to move it to open the flap enough that I can shimmy my way out.

“Tyler?” Graham asks sleepily, lifting his head. Damn. Almost made it.

“I’ll be right back. Have to pee.” He mumbles something as he snuggles back down into his sleeping bag. How the fuck is he comfortable enough to go back to sleep?

Once I’m free of the tent, I grab the flip-flops I set in front of the door before we went to bed. It’s not worth arguing with the zipper when I’ll be right back.

It’s only a two-minute walk over to the shared bathrooms for the campsite, but it feels like a mile. It’s tempting to find a nearby tree instead, but my fear of getting caught outweighs the convenience.

My flimsy sandals barely keep the rocks from digging into my feet. I’m also regretting not getting some real clothes out of my bag. My pajamas are fine, but the last time I wore pajamas in public was back in college. I feel… exposed. I know the trend is to go out in athleisurewear, but I can’t do it. I want real clothes if I’m going to be out of the house.

When I finish emptying my bladder, I start the walk back to the tent. Is there even a slight chance I can fall back asleep? Weekends are for sleeping in and lounging on the couch. Even if we’re in the middle of nowhere, I’d like to catch up on some rest. I’m nearly back to our spot when a couple of squealing kids race in front of me. I come to an abrupt stop in an attempt not to run over them. The toe of one of my flip-flops catches on something, and I go down, ending up on my ass.

The two kids stop and gawk at me. At least they’re fucking quiet.

“Are you okay, mister?” the older of the two boys asks.

“Fine,” I grumble. There’s no chance I’m getting back to sleep now.

“But you’re bleeding,” the younger one whines. The way he says it makes it sound like the blood is coming out of his body instead of mine.

“Just a scratch,” I say. The last thing I need right now is a crying child, and this one’s chin is already trembling. “Why don’t you go back to your parents?”

They exchange looks but decide to take me up on my suggestion. They walk by me slowly before taking off running again. Good luck to whatever poor sap they run into next.

Once they’re out of sight, I take stock of the situation. My ass is sore, but nothing I can’t handle. The kid was right, though. Blood oozes through the fabric of my pajama pants around my knee. The light gray fabric does little to hide it. I don’t suppose campsites come with a laundry room?

“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath, hoping the kids are out of earshot. I push myself up and take stock of the damage. A lot of dirt, but given the blood, I’m not sure I care at this point. The pants are past the point of being salvageable. Graham may have to put up with me sleeping in my briefs instead of wearing pants.

Other than my knee, everything else seems okay. My toe is sore from where my foot caught, and my ass smarts, but mostly, I’m pissed off.

“Tyler?” I snap my head up and catch sight of a sleepy Graham coming my way. His hair is a mess, and he’s wearing his flannel sleep pants, no top. He rubs his eyes as he gets closer, looking me up and down. “What happened? I thought you were going to the bathroom?”

“There was a mishap.” Graham shoots me a questioning look. “I stopped short to avoid running over some kids. I guess my flip-flops aren’t built for quick breaking.” I try to keep it light. My mood sours by the minute, and I’m dying to beg him to pack up all our shit and drive straight back to the city so we can shower and spend the day ordering takeout and watching TV.

I want him to share his love of camping, so I swallow down the annoyances and give him my best smile. It feels fake, but he seems to buy it. It’s a tough start to the day, but it can only go up from here.

“Let’s go back to the car. I have a first aid kit we can use to clean you up. Then we can get some food and coffee.”

“Coffee, please,” I beg. This is way too much to deal with before caffeine.

“Bandage first, then coffee.”

I pout but don’t say anything. He’s right. I can wait an extra five minutes for coffee.

When we arrive back at our camp, he disappears into the tent for a minute and comes back with car keys and a shirt. I’m disappointed when he pulls the shirt on, covering the abs I’ve been admiring. I suppose the whole area doesn’t need a show.

“Have a seat. I’ll grab the kit and be right over.”

I plop down in one of the camp chairs. Graham’s been busy since I left. A small fire is burning in the pit, and a bunch of kitchen items are on the picnic table. I take a moment to roll up my pant leg, a hiss escaping when the fabric tugs away from the sticky wound. It’s not as bad as it looks. Just a lot of blood.

“Alright, let’s take a look.” Graham sets the bag down next to me. It’s bigger than I expected. My first aid kit at home is the size of a small paperback. His looks like it could hold at least ten of mine. “Well, you got it good, but at least you don’t need stitches. Probably going to hurt for a while though, especially since it’s right where your knee flexes.” I give him my best shrug, pretending not to be bothered by the injury. “Okay, I’m going to clean it up first, then we’ll get a bandage on.”

I watch with amazement as he busies himself, grabbing a bottle of water from our supply and a cloth. He cleans around my knee, carefully dabbing the bits of blood that dried and making sure he’s extra gentle when he touches the broken skin. I still wince and fight the urge to pull away, but he gives me the sweetest look as he leans in to plant a kiss on my knee. Well, not the knee exactly, but an inch or two away.

“Now it’s all better,” I say, grinning like a complete idiot. Somehow, it does hurt less, even though I know it’s a placebo effect. Maybe I can convince him to kiss it throughout the day to help with the pain. I wonder if it works if he kisses other body parts?

“I’m going to put some petroleum jelly on it to help keep it moist.”

I scrunch up my face.

“Don’t give me that. It’s good for it and will help with healing. We’ll need to watch to make sure it doesn’t get infected, especially since we’re outside.” He covers my knee in the stuff, and it feels… weird. Once he’s satisfied, he reaches back into his big bag and pulls out some bandages. Knee thoroughly covered, Graham gives it a second kiss and rolls my pant leg down.

I swear my heart skips a beat at the gesture. I don’t remember the last time someone did something like this for me. Probably my mom when I was a kid. But an adult? Never.

I look away, afraid Graham will be able to see all the feelings dancing across my face.

“How about you put on some clean clothes while I get coffee and breakfast started?”

I nod, still not able to fully trust myself with these big feelings. It’s not an easy task crawling around the tent with my knee, but I’m thankful for a few minutes of alone time to pull my thoughts together. My chest feels full, not quite the same as when anxiety is building, but similar. I swallow and force myself to get dressed for the day. Coffee will help. Coffee always helps.

GRAHAM

I should’ve booked a bed and breakfast. Camping has too many unknowns for a first weekend away together. What was I thinking?

I want to share this side of myself and my upbringing with him. Even though I don’t do much solo camping anymore, it used to be a big part of my life. I still get little-kid-level excited each year for our family time at the lake. Living in the city is great, but out here, all the sirens and traffic fade away and leave behind the rustle of leaves.

That’s what I imagined when Tyler agreed to this. But this was far from even an economy-type cabin at a resort. I could see how he’d gritted through the morning so far, pretending everything was okay for my benefit.

I can fix this. Only a half day in, I still want to show him so many things.

But first, coffee.

Making pour-over coffee around a campfire is one of my favorite things about being at the lake. Even with my typical accommodation, I try to get out and do it this way. It’s technically the same, but I swear the fire infuses something into the coffee that gives it that extra boost.

Once I’ve got the fire going and my kettle set to boil the water, I find the coffee grounds, mugs, dripper, and filters. Instant would be easier, but life is too short to drink shitty coffee.

“I don’t smell coffee.” Tyler emerges from the tent wearing a pair of light-wash jeans and a gray henley.

“Water’s getting going. We’ll have coffee soon enough. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll bring it to you as soon as it’s done.”

He seems unsure but settles into one of the chairs by the fire.

“Are eggs okay for breakfast?” I ask. It’s one of my camp specialties. Okay, it’s my only specialty, but they’re pretty good.

“You can make eggs here? I figured we’d have oatmeal or something.”

“I do have oatmeal packets and hot water if you’d prefer. I can make eggs easily, though. It won’t be fancy, but eggs with vegetables and potatoes make a nice hearty breakfast.” Please let me remember how to do this . It’s been at least a few years since I did a lot of stovetop-style outdoor cooking, but it feels doable. Plus, we need something filling before the hike I want us to take. It’s flat and easy, but the trail ends at a cute pond. The perfect place to relax and enjoy the outdoors.

I get to work pulling out all the pieces I prepped at home and stuck in the cooler for the trip. We’ll need to make a stop today to pick up more ice to keep things cool.

As soon as the water starts to boil, I pull it off the fire and busy myself making the coffee. Tyler keeps his eyes on me as I slowly pour the water into the dripper with the grounds. Rushing is never good when it comes to coffee. Tyler might be frustrated now, but it’ll be worth it when he gets the good stuff.

Five minutes later, I pull the cup free and carry it over to Tyler.

“I never thought I would miss my coffee maker so much as I do right now.”

“You’ll be ready to break up with that thing once you try this.” I hope.

He takes the cup from my hands, inhaling the steam, and holds it up to his face. Gingerly, he tries the first sip.

“Damn, that’s hot.” He takes another sip. “Oh my god, that’s incredible. What did you put in this?”

I beam under his praise. It’s nice to see a real smile on his face rather than the one he’s been plastering on for my benefit. “Nothing, just coffee.” I wink at him.

“I don’t know about that, but I’m going to demand coffee like this more often.” He grins around the edge of the mug.

“I’ll be happy to oblige. It’s too much effort for me on workdays, but weekends are perfect for sitting around on the couch and enjoying.” If it meant that Tyler would stay over and cuddle up with me in the morning, I’d make as many cups as he wanted.That’s if I manage to stay in Cardinal Falls.

Once I get breakfast ready, I move us over to the picnic table to enjoy the scramble. It’s got some char around the edges, but otherwise, not too bad.

“If the whole management thing doesn’t work out, you’ve got a second career as a chef.” Tyler scoops a big bite into his mouth and moans around it.

“I think this is pretty much the limit of my cooking skills.” Years of living alone and moving around made me reliant on microwavable dinners and takeout. Staying with Tyler might be the push I finally need to learn to use my kitchen. Or, at the very least, buy more than the three pans I currently own.

“What’s on our agenda today?” Tyler pushes his empty plate back.

“We aren’t on a schedule, so we can relax and enjoy the fire and coffee, but then there’s a hike I thought you would like.” One that can be done without any real hiking gear. “And then when we get back, we can hang out by the lake for a while.” It’s too cold to swim this time of year, but it’s still nice to watch the water.

“Sounds perfect.” I search Tyler’s expression for sarcasm but find none. “I think you might need to factor in some nap time, though.” He winks at me. “We did such good work putting up the tent. I don’t want it to go to waste.”

“I’m sure we can work it into the itinerary.”