Chapter 4

Eighteen.

I'd met Ethan in the second semester of my freshman year.

I chased him for three years. He stayed cold, distant.

Then, in senior year, he suddenly agreed to be my boyfriend officially.

I thought it was my persistence that had finally won him over.

Only now did I understand.

Senior year was exactly when Chloe moved to London for grad school.

He hadn't been moved by me. He'd just picked up a docile stand-in.

I tugged at the corner of my lip. "You said yourself it was a joke. What would I mind?"

Ethan seemed to relax. He reached out, took my wrist, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"No point dredging up the past."

I looked down at his hand.

Long, warm fingers. The temperature I'd once craved more than anything.

Now, it just made my stomach turn.

I pulled my wrist free, little by little.

"I'm going to wash my hands."

Ethan's hand closed on empty air again.

Irritated, he kicked at a pebble on the ground.

"I already explained. What more do you want from me?"

I didn't answer. I just crouched by the stream and scrubbed at my wrist, over and over.

Ryan came over and offered me a tissue.

"Emily, Ethan's just like that. He really does care about you."

"Chloe grew up with us. We're all just used to looking out for her."

"Cut him some slack."

Slack?

That was the word I'd heard most in the last three years.

Give Ethan slack for being cold.

Give his friends slack for giving me a hard time.

Give him slack for bending every rule the moment Chloe appeared.

I wadded the soaked tissue into a ball, expressionless, and tossed it in the trash bag.

"I've given plenty of slack. That's why I've given all my time to them."

This relationship I'd been shut out of—I was done.

Ryan didn't catch my meaning. He laughed and clapped my shoulder.

The sky had darkened at some point. The wind in the valley was picking up.

My phone pinged with a weather alert.

*Severe thunderstorm expected in the Blue Ridge area within the next hour. Hikers should leave exposed areas and seek shelter immediately.*

Dark clouds were rolling in from the ridgeline. The wind had the leaves thrashing.

"It's about to pour." Jason looked up, his expression tightening.

Ethan made the call quickly.

"There's a cave up ahead. We'll take shelter there, wait for the rain to let up, then head back to camp."

Everyone started moving toward the cave.

Chloe, walking beside Ethan, suddenly shivered.

"Ethan, the wind's so strong. I'm freezing."

Ethan stopped and glanced at her thin windbreaker.

Then he turned to me. "Head back to camp."

"Grab Chloe's red windbreaker. It's in her tent."

He pointed down the slope.

"She can't handle the cold. My jacket alone isn't enough."

I looked up at the churning black clouds and clenched my fist in my pocket.

"The storm's about to hit."

Ethan frowned. "The campsite's only ten minutes from here. Walk fast, you won't get wet."

Ryan chimed in from the side.

"Yeah, Emily, just make the run."

I looked at the five men in front of me.

Every single one of them was wearing a windbreaker.

And yet they wanted *me*—the one who'd been soaked last night, the one running a fever right now—to go racing down the mountain in a storm warning for a jacket.

In their eyes, Chloe was porcelain that needed careful handling.

And I was a weed that could stand a little rain.

I swallowed my own bitterness, drew in a breath, and said, "Fine. I'll go."