Chapter 3

"Weren't you the one who always carried it?"

I looked at him coldly. "I don't feel like carrying it today. Is that a problem?"

Ethan came over and dropped his voice.

"Everyone's pitching in. You really have to pick now to throw a tantrum?"

Me? Throw a tantrum?

I almost laughed.

I'd been playing housekeeper to this crowd, and that was supposed to be *normal*? Just expected?

Me refusing was *throwing a tantrum*?

I looked the man in front of me dead in the eye and said, one word at a time, "Ethan. I got rained on last night. I have a fever."

And he, my fiancé, didn't offer a single word of concern.

Ethan stared at me for a few seconds, then sighed.

"God, you're being so precious about this."

"Fine. I'll carry it. You walk empty-handed. Happy?"

He turned, slung the pack over his shoulder, and then took the small water bottle out of Chloe's hand.

"Chloe, stick with me. The trail's rough."

Chloe smiled sweetly. "Thanks, Ethan."

The group started heading up the mountain.

I walked at the back, watching the six of them laughing and chatting ahead.

They were an impenetrable little clique.

And I was just the clown who kept trying to squeeze in, getting bloodied against the walls each time.

I'd been a fool.

At least I was awake now.

My phone buzzed.

A message from the campsite manager.

*Ms. Emily Carter, your refund (after cancellation fees) has been processed and will return to your original payment account.*

*We'll collect the tents, rental vehicle, and other rented items by 2 PM. Any personal belongings will be held at the front desk.*

When we stopped halfway up for a break, Ethan and the others huddled together, passing out sandwiches.

From start to finish, no one thought of me.

"Ethan, look at that tree."

Jason suddenly pointed at an old oak not far off.

I followed his finger.

It was a thick, sturdy oak, its trunk furred with moss.

"Can't believe it's been this many years and the carving's still there."

Ryan walked over and brushed aside the vines on the trunk.

I stood up and slowly drew closer.

On the shaded side of the trunk, a line of letters had been carved with a knife.

Ethan's name. And Chloe's.

The cuts were deep. The edges had softened with time, but the names were still clearly legible.

I stood in front of that tree and stared at the carving for a long moment.

The group fell silent.

The childhood friends seemed to realize they'd let something slip. They exchanged awkward looks.

Ethan walked over and planted himself between me and the tree.

"Don't look at it. Just a stupid thing from way back."

Chloe came up behind him, smiling at me.

"Emily, we carved that when we were eighteen, on a camping trip."

"Back then Ethan even said he'd marry me someday. It was just a joke, obviously. You don't mind, do you?"