Page 64 of The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep

“Come, my harem,” Ricky starts to move the huddle of us to where the firepit stands. “I shall build you a fire to keep you warm lest the neanderthals try to seal you away from me.”

We giggle and fall into chairs around the pit. Ricky shoves his hand into the pocket of his baggy jeans to retrieve a joint. He lights it and takes a pull.

Andy pouts. “I thought you were going to build us a fire.”

He takes another pull on the joint, and the embers flare. He points to the burning red as he hands it to Andy. Trying to hold the smoke in, he grunts, “Fire.”

Andy rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Shy reaches for the joint and takes a small pull. I think Elijah frowns.

She doesn’t even bother offering it to me before she gives it back to Ricky. I stand and start gathering kindling for the fire. I’m starving and need a fire to cook the hot dogs.

I’ve assembled my kindling and paper hut just the way Dad taught me when Holt hooks me around my waist. He lifts me and deposits me in a chair before he flexes his muscles.

Teasing eyes land on Ricky as he boasts, “Time to show little Rick how real men care for their women.”

Ricky sits back in his chair, waving a hand to the pit. “I’m all eyes, Rocky. Give me a show.”

Micha snorts as he taps Andy’s thigh for her to stand. He takes her chair and pulls her into his lap, nuzzling her neck.

Holt poses for Ricky, flexing his arms, then his back. We’re all laughing when he finally sets to finishing what I started, lighting the fire.

We laugh and talk and tease. We cook hot dogs and eat, and Ricky opens a bag of chips. He’s going to have the munchies all weekend, without a doubt.

Holt’s hand falls on my knee. “We should probably make our bed.”

I look up at the sky. It’s not as bright as it was when we arrived, but it’s getting dark, and Holt is right. We should make our bed.

I follow Holt to his truck and pluck out the rolled up sleeping bags. He grabs an air mattress and starts to pump it up as I carry everything across the site to Holt’s tent. Our tent.

I guess Mom was right when she assumed I’d be sharing a tent with Holt. I’d thought about it, of course. I’d wanted to. But it hadn’t been the plan. It hadn’t been the plan because I couldn’t make myself ditch Shy.

Now that she was making moves on Elijah—I’m free to be with Holt.

Be with Holt. Heat floods me because that can mean a lot of things. It could mean sex.

I kind of want it to mean sex.

And that has me freaking out.

Not because I’m not ready but because it’s a big deal. A huge deal. I thought I would be more prepared.

“You good?” Holt asks as he stops with the air mattress outside the tent where I stand.

I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just nod. But Holt knows me.

His espresso eyes are soft when he murmurs low, “We won’t do anything you’re not ready for, okay?”

I nod. “Okay.”

He mirrors my nod with one of his own before he slips into the tent. Once the mattress is in position, Holt calls, “Pass me the sleeping bags and pillows.”

I do as I’m asked and enter the tent to help him make the bed. He only makes one, zipping the suitcases together.

I clear my throat and ask, “What are you ready for, Holt?”

His eyes come to me. That muscle in his jaw jumps as he contemplates his answer. When he speaks, his voice is filled with gravel in a way I’ve never heard it.

“I’m ready for everything, Faye. But I don’t want to pressure you.” When I don’t respond and don’t meet his eyes, Holt hooks me around my belly and wrestles me to the bed we just made. I let a little shriek loose as he positions his body half over mine.