Chapter Seventeen

Connor stood in his bedroom after everyone had left and held Mack’s dress in his hands. It smelled like her, like citrus and shampoo. He put it on a hanger and tucked it in the back of his closet. He’d return it as promised, but if he had to look at it another second, he’d probably wind up setting fire to it in the sink. And then it would be awkward when the fire department came and he had to explain how his not-girlfriend, whom he wasn’t in love with, apparently had zero feelings for him, too.

He knew it didn’t make sense. But the fact remained that she’d come over, made love to him, slept in his bed, woken up to turn his old T-shirt into something sexier than the finest lingerie. All that, moments after getting some other guy’s number, then turning to her best friend and calling Connor a dog who was never going to change. Even worse, never going to love.

She’d acted like he was “just” someone who slept around, as though his sexual history made him less than—less capable of feeling, less worthy of care. As though what was happening between them didn’t mean a thing.

One night together wasn’t the stuff of promises. But this wasn’t one night together. They’d had more than that already. And they’d known each other for so long, they were far from strangers starting from scratch. He’d thought he’d felt things growing between them.

He’d thought this meant so much more than when they’d begun.

But the way she was with him was a lie. As soon as their friends were around, as soon as this was anything but a secret, an accident, a mistake, she went and denied it to the world. The excuses she’d made up so no one would suspect were preposterous. Spilling coffee on her clothes? Any pretext she could come up with before practically ignoring him all morning, as though he wasn’t worth her time.

It wasn’t like he’d expected to make some grand announcement to their friends today. But then the doorbell rang and everything felt like it was about to burst out. Why should they have to hide? Wasn’t it okay to be happy?

Mack wouldn’t dream of it, though. To suddenly see her act like this was nothing, like it hadn’t even happened, turned the meal to salt in his mouth.

The worst part was that there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t make her feel differently about him. He couldn’t get her to open up, invite him into her life, make this become something if she wouldn’t let it.

Three years ago, she’d had every reason to turn away. When he’d come to Gold Mountain and walked up to her at the bar, he’d been full of it, expecting her to fall all over him.

Now he knew why she she’d put the brakes on anything between them. He’d been egotistical, immature, nothing like what she needed. He’d practically announced that he planned to leave after sleeping with her.

He’d thought it was no big deal. She was just one woman. Surely he’d find someone else.

But then there followed three years of running from his feelings, pretending everything was fine. Now it was time to face the truth—he’d spent that whole time mired in distractions, convincing himself that anyone could replace her.

It hadn’t worked. He’d tortured himself for years, but he couldn’t do it anymore. He had to get over her, once and for all. He had to put this behind him, and the conviction made him realize there was something he could do. There was a path that led away from here, away from everything.

…

It was a cloudy day, but the low light enhanced the contrasts in the trees, the moss, the wildflowers that had sprung up everywhere. Connor liked days like this where the world felt cocooned, mountains closing in around him. He wasn’t sure where he was driving, until it seemed inevitable. Of course he was pulling into the South Lake Trailhead.

He parked and walked down the path to the place where he’d shared his recipes with Mack, where he should have realized the two of them weren’t a onetime mistake. He stood at the picnic site and looked at the clouds clinging to the mountains and the gray shadows blooming on the water. It was beautiful here. But lots of places were beautiful.

He set off around the lake, taking the long path that skirted the water and then ducked into the mountains, immersing himself in the mossy woods until he felt like the only person in the world, trying to walk far enough that he could simply walk away.

But the trail looped around, and hours later he was back in the same spot where he’d started, sweaty, hungry, and wishing he’d at least brought a bottle of water. One thing had crystallized, though.

He sat down on the bank of the lake and plucked a wildflower from the grass. He twirled the stem between his fingers as he pulled out his phone, wondering if Mack might have called. Texted. Done anything, no matter how small, to show he was worth something to her.

No new messages.

It made it easier, in a way, to do what he should have done when Sam first sat them down and told them the Dipper had to change. He’d thought the answer was to stay here and prove he could be different than the detached player his parents, his friends, and most of all Mack thought of him as.

But maybe Mack was right. Maybe they all were.

Maybe he’d been that person for so long, it was too late for him to be any other way. She wasn’t going to budge on the restaurant. She sure as hell wasn’t going to give him her heart.

So what was he doing still sticking around?

He could have called his dad back, but that wasn’t who he really needed to talk to. He went to the first name in his favorites and waited for his brother to pick up.