The next week crawled by like a wounded animal. Every room in our house had become a minefield. I'd pause outside doorways, listening for Liam's voice before entering. I'd changed my morning routine to avoid our usual bathroom overlap. I'd even started eating breakfast early, before anyone else woke up.
It was exhausting being this vigilant, but the alternative, facing him, talking to him, acknowledging what had almost happened in that tent, was unthinkable.
"What about this one?" Mom asked, sliding a college brochure across the kitchen table. "University of Michigan. Great psychology program."
I glanced at the smiling students on the glossy cover. "It's eight hours away."
"Is that a problem?" She studied me over her reading glasses. "I thought you wanted some distance from Westridge."
*Distance*. The word echoed in my head. Wasn't that exactly what I needed?
"I'll add it to the list," I said, pulling my laptop closer. My college application spreadsheet had become my refuge, columns of deadlines, essay requirements, and financial aid information that demanded my complete attention.
The back door opened, and I tensed at the sound of work boots on tile. Dad and Liam had been renovating the Hendersons' kitchen all week, usually not returning until dinner.
"We're home early," Dad announced, dropping his tool belt on the counter. "Henderson kids got sick at school. Some stomach bug going around."
Liam appeared behind him, still in his dust-covered t-shirt, eyes immediately finding mine before darting away. "I'm going to shower," he muttered, already turning toward the stairs.
"Dinner's at six," Mom called after him. She turned to Dad. "Pat, did you remember to order that special grout for the Wilsons' bathroom?"
Their conversation faded into background noise as I stared at my laptop screen, not reading a word. I could hear the shower turn on upstairs. Could picture the water running over Liam's shoulders, his face tilted up to...
I slammed my laptop shut.
"Everything okay?" Mom asked.
"Fine. Just—need to focus. I'll work in my room."
I escaped upstairs, pausing in the hallway outside the bathroom. Steam seeped under the door along with the muffled sound of running water. I hurried past, locking myself in my bedroom.
This couldn't continue. Something had to give.
***
Labor Day arrived with perfect late-summer weather, golden sunshine and a sky so blue it hurt to look at. The annual Westridge community picnic had been a Davidson family tradition since before I was born.
"Mia! Get the potato salad from the fridge!" Mom called from the front porch.
I grabbed the massive bowl and navigated through our crowded entryway where Dad was loading folding chairs into his arms.
"Where's your brother?" he asked.
"How would I know?" The response came out sharper than I intended.
Dad raised his eyebrows. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
I forced a smile. "Sorry. Haven't had coffee yet."
I found Liam in the driveway, arranging coolers in the trunk of the SUV. He wore a faded blue t-shirt that made his eyes look almost black in contrast.
"Potato salad," I said, holding out the bowl at arm's length.
He took it without letting our fingers brush. "Thanks."
That was our entire conversation. After the camping trip, we'd reduced to single words and careful choreography.
The community picnic sprawled across Memorial Park, where half the town had gathered with blankets, lawn chairs, and enough food to survive an apocalypse. Children chased each other across the grass while parents clustered in social groups that had solidified decades ago.
"Davidson clan!" Mrs. Abernathy waved from her lawn chair beneath the big oak tree. "Come join us!"
Mom headed over immediately, Dad following with our cooler. I hesitated, looking for an escape route.
"You can't avoid everyone," Liam said quietly behind me.
"I'm not avoiding everyone," I replied without turning. "Just you."
I felt rather than saw him flinch.
"Mia! Liam!" Mrs. Abernathy called again. "My goodness, you two have grown so much since last year!"
We approached with manufactured smiles, accepting her bone-crushing hugs and settling onto the blanket next to her chair. Mom began distributing paper plates while Dad talked construction with Mr. Abernathy.
"So, Liam," Mrs. Abernathy began, "your mother tells me you're working full-time with your dad now?"
Liam nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Learning the business from the ground up."
"And Mia, senior year! College applications must be keeping you busy."
"Very busy," I agreed, grateful for the easy topic.
"These two have barely seen each other all week," Mom said with a laugh that didn't quite sound natural. "Ships passing in the night."
Mrs. Abernathy's eyes narrowed slightly. "Really? You two were always joined at the hip. I remember when you were little, you'd cry if Liam went anywhere without you, Mia."
I stabbed at my potato salad. "People grow up."
"They sure do," Mrs. Abernathy said, something knowing in her tone that made my skin prickle. "They sure do."
The afternoon stretched endlessly. I found myself watching Liam from across the park as he joined a pickup football game with guys from his old high school team. The familiar grace of his movements, the way he laughed with his head thrown back when someone fumbled, it physically hurt to see him being normal when everything felt so broken.
"What's going on with you two?"
I jumped at the voice beside me. Ellie Jackson had been my best friend since third grade.
"What do you mean?"
She dropped onto the blanket beside me, nodding toward the football game. "You and Liam. You've barely acknowledged each other all day. Did you fight or something?"
"No," I said too quickly. "We're fine."
"Right." Ellie's sarcasm could cut glass. "That's why you've been staring at him like he stole your puppy."
"I haven't been staring."
"Okay, whatever you say." She bumped my shoulder with hers. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
For one terrifying moment, I imagined telling her the truth. *I can't stop thinking about my brother in ways that make me hate myself. I almost kissed him during the camping trip. I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell.*
"It's nothing," I said instead. "Just stressed about college stuff."
She nodded, clearly not believing me but letting it go. "Speaking of college, are you coming to the campus tour next weekend? My mom can drive us."
"Yeah, sure." I welcomed any excuse to be out of the house.
Across the park, Liam scored a touchdown. His teammates swarmed him with high-fives and back slaps. When he looked up, his eyes found mine immediately, as if he'd known exactly where I was sitting. Something electric passed between us before I tore my gaze away.
Ellie waved her hand in front of my face. "Did you hear anything I just said?"
"Sorry, what?"
She rolled her eyes. "I said Jason Miller has been staring at you all afternoon. He's definitely going to ask you to the Autumn Dance."
I looked over at Jason, who quickly pretended to be fascinated by his soda can. He was nice enough—tall, decent grades, played basketball. Any other girl would be thrilled.
"I'm not going to the dance," I said.
"Of course you are. We always go."
"Not this year."
Ellie studied me, concern replacing her teasing. "Mia, what's really going on with you?"
I was saved from answering by Mom's call for help packing up. The sun was setting, families beginning to disperse as evening approached. I hugged Ellie goodbye, promising to text her about the campus tour, and hurried to help fold chairs.
"You've been quiet today," Mom said as we carried supplies to the car.
"Just tired."
She hesitated, then asked carefully, "Is everything okay between you and Liam? You've both been acting... different since the camping trip."
My heart stuttered. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know. You used to talk all the time, and now you barely look at each other." She studied my face. "Did something happen?"
"No," I said, the lie bitter on my tongue. "Nothing happened."
Mom didn't look convinced, but she dropped the subject as Dad and Liam approached with the last of our belongings.
The drive home was silent except for Dad's cheerful commentary about the picnic food. I pressed my forehead against the cool window glass, watching Westridge scroll by in twilight shadows. In the reflection, I could see Liam doing the same on the opposite side of the backseat, the empty middle space between us more significant than mere inches.
When we arrived home, I headed straight for the stairs.
"Not helping with leftovers?" Mom called after me.
"Headache," I lied. "I need to lie down."
In my room, I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars Liam had helped me stick to the ceiling when I was ten. He'd arranged them into actual constellations, standing on my desk chair and explaining each one as he worked. *That's Cassiopeia. She was a queen who boasted about her beauty and angered the gods.*
My phone chimed with a text. I expected Ellie, but instead saw Liam's name on the screen.
*We need to talk. Boathouse. 11pm.*
I stared at the message, my pulse racing. The boathouse had been our sanctuary since childhood, a place for secret candy stashes and whispered conversations away from parental ears.
I should say no. I should delete the message and pretend I never saw it. I should do anything except agree to meet him alone in the dark.
*Ok*, I typed, and hit send before I could change my mind.
My reflection in the bedroom mirror looked back at me, eyes wide with something between fear and anticipation. This couldn't continue, we both knew it. Something had to give.
And tonight, something would.