Three days after the camping trip, I still couldn't look at Liam without remembering that moment in the tent.
Our house wasn't big enough for the distance we were trying to create. Every hallway became a potential collision course. Every shared meal, a minefield of accidental eye contact.
"Pass the salt," Mom said at dinner.
Four hands froze mid-reach. Mine and Liam's retreated instantly.
Dad looked between us, fork paused halfway to his mouth. "You two fighting or something?"
"No," we answered at the same time, then avoided looking at each other.
Mom frowned. "You've barely spoken since we got back from the lake."
I stabbed at my chicken. "Just tired. College applications are stressing me out."
"And I've got that project with Dad," Liam added, not looking up from his plate.
I could feel Mom watching us, her eyes narrowing slightly. Diana Davidson didn't miss much.
After dinner, I escaped to my room, closing the door with more force than necessary. My phone buzzed with a text from Ellie asking if I wanted to go to the movies Friday. Normal life continuing as if nothing had changed.
A soft knock on my door made me jump.
"It's me," Liam said quietly.
My heart raced. "What do you want?"
"Can I come in?"
I hesitated, then opened the door just enough to see his face. He looked as exhausted as I felt.
"We need to talk about what happened," he said.
"Nothing happened." The lie felt bitter on my tongue.
"Mia..."
"I don't want to talk about it." I gripped the door handle tighter. "It was weird and confusing and it's over."
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in all directions. "That's just it. It doesn't feel over."
Something fluttered in my chest. Dangerous. Unwelcome.
"Well, it has to be," I said firmly. "We're..." I couldn't even say the word 'siblings.' It suddenly felt wrong in my mouth.
"I know what we are." His voice dropped to a whisper. "That's why I'm thinking about taking that internship in Colorado after all."
The floor seemed to tilt beneath me. "For six months?"
"Maybe it would be good for us to have some space."
Space. The word echoed in my head like a death sentence. Six months without Liam. Six months to forget whatever this confused tangle of feelings was.
"If that's what you want," I said, my voice steadier than I expected.
"It's not what I want." His eyes met mine, dark and serious. "It's what we need."
Before I could respond, Mom called from downstairs. "Liam! Phone call!"
He lingered for a moment longer. "Just... think about it, okay?"
After he left, I slid down against my closed door, hugging my knees to my chest. What was happening to us? How had one stormy night in a tent changed everything so completely?
My phone buzzed again. A text from Liam this time: *I'm sorry.*
Sorry for what? For the moment that almost happened in the tent? For suggesting he leave? For the fact that neither of us could go back to normal?
I didn't answer.
That night, I dreamed of thunder and rain and Liam's hand brushing my hair away from my face. I woke up tangled in my sheets, heart racing, shame and confusion battling inside me.
At breakfast, Liam announced he'd accepted the Colorado internship. Mom was thrilled, Dad proud. They didn't notice how I gripped my orange juice glass so hard my knuckles turned white.
"When do you leave?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Two weeks," he replied, not meeting my eyes.
Two weeks. Fourteen days to fix whatever had broken between us before he disappeared for half a year.
I spent the morning filling out college applications, focusing on schools far from Westridge. Maybe Liam had the right idea. Maybe distance was exactly what we both needed.
That afternoon, I walked down to the lake alone, sitting on the end of our dock with my feet dangling in the cool water. The lake had always been my thinking place, the spot where life's problems seemed smaller against the vastness of water and sky.
But this problem didn't shrink. It expanded with each passing thought.
I heard footsteps on the wooden planks behind me. I didn't need to turn to know it was Liam. I'd recognize his walk anywhere.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked.
I shrugged, making room beside me. We sat there in silence, watching the sun create golden patterns on the water's surface.
"Remember when we used to jump off this dock holding hands?" he finally said. "Dad would count to three and we'd leap together."
I smiled despite myself. "You always tried to splash me when we surfaced."
"And you always got revenge by dunking me."
The memory hung between us, a reminder of simpler times. Before whatever this was had crept into our relationship.
"I don't want you to go," I admitted, still staring at the water.
"I don't want to go either." His voice was rough. "But I don't know how else to handle this."
"Handle what?" I forced myself to look at him. "Just say it, Liam."
He met my gaze, and for once neither of us looked away. "I don't know how to be around you and not..." He trailed off, his eyes dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second.
That tiny glance sent heat rushing through me. This was so wrong. So impossible.
"We can't," I whispered.
"I know." He looked back at the water. "That's why I have to go."
We sat there until sunset, shoulders not quite touching, trying to find our way back to who we used to be. But with each passing minute, that version of us felt more and more like strangers.
As darkness fell over Lake Corman, I made a promise to myself: I would help Liam pack for Colorado. I would wave goodbye without crying. And I would use those six months to bury these feelings so deep they could never surface again.
It was a promise I had no idea I wouldn't be able to keep.