Page 82 of Chasing Stardust

Dash dabs my forehead with a wad of napkins, making me jump. “What the hell are you reading over there? You need me to crank up the AC? You’re sweating.”

“It’s . . .” I groan. How do I tell him I’m basically reading diary porn? I’m equal parts disturbed and fascinated. The only reason I made it this far is because the person who wrote this diary is nothing like the mom I remember. And I can’t help imagining Dash flirting with me across a campfire, and the two of us making out in a tent.

Dash glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Read me some.”

I inhale and choke on saliva.

“Do I need to pull over and give you the Heimlich?”

It takes a few seconds of hacking and coughing before I can answer. “No! I need water.”

Dash passes me an open water bottle. “Sip slowly. I haven’t seen a place to stop in a while.”

Smart-ass. I snatch the water from him and suck down half the bottle before taking a breath.

He grins and then nods at the diary in my lap. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

My face goes up in flames, and I put them out with another big gulp of water.

“You’re acting weird.” A groove forms between Dash’s eyebrows. “Weirder than normal, that is.”

“I’m not weird. You’re weird.”

“There she is.” He laughs.

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop smiling. “Mom didn’t leave any clues other than Beartown.”

“We should be there soon.”

Diary-worthy scenarios flicker through my thoughts as Dash fumbles with his fancy tent, his muscles bunching and tightening from the effort, and his skin glistening in the waning daylight.

My temperature spikes.

“You need some help?” I ask. God help me, I can’t tear my eyes away. Is this how Mom felt that night?

“Nope. I’ve got this. You keep . . .” He lifts his head from the instruction booklet to catch me daydreaming. “What are you doing? I thought you were collecting firewood.”

“Oh. Right.” I shake the naughty vision from my brain. “On it!”

Keeping Dash within earshot, I set out in search of loose twigs and branches.

My quest takes me into the forest, where the heady scent of cedar and pine fills the air and scattered rows of soaring oaks draw me in, each one practically calling my name. The deeper I go, the farther the sun creeps below the tree line. And the farther I get from Dash, the less focused I am on cooking hot dogs and charring marshmallows. Even thoughts of kissing in front of a blazing fire take a back seat to visions of Mom walking this same path in another lifetime.

Scraping my fingertips over rough bark, I search each tree for my mother’s name. No matter what I do, I can’t shake the feeling that my reason for being here is bigger than simply spreading her ashes. Come on, Mom . . . what are you trying to tell me?

Dash curses, and I stop what I’m doing. While I’m out here feeling sorry for myself, he’s wrestling with a tent, sacrificing his last summer of freedom so I can re-create moments from my mom’s life.

I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my life.

With a new plan forming in my head, I collect as many sticks and branches as I can carry and then hurry back.

“Tent’s up. You need help with the—” Feet rooted in place, he cocks his head and studies me in the fading light. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I . . . uh . . .” Words stick in my throat as I wipe the stupid grin from my lips. With him standing right in front of me, all I can think of is how badly I want to drag him into his expensive tent.

Dash steps toward me and brushes a loose strand of hair from my eyes. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not. I’m sweating. You’re hot—I mean, it’s hot out here.” I clear my throat and turn back toward the forest before I blurt out something I don’t want to say yet. “I was searching the trees. I guess I thought I’d find her name, but we’re in a freaking forest. Even if it’s out there, I’m never going to find it.”