"Oh God, I'm really gonna miss you."

I pull Martina into a hug in the middle of our now empty room. She squeezes me back with equal force, and I try not to think about the fact we'll never live together again. If she was going to the same college as I was, I would have already had my own built-in roommate.

"How far away is your town from mine again?" I ask. "Twenty minutes?"

She frowns. "No, Wilton is half-an-hour away." She confirms the distance with the map on her phone and sighs. "You have my number, right?"

"Of course," I reply and pull her into a hug again. We stay like that for another minute, until Martina's phone vibrates with a text. "Do you have to go already?"

"I want to say another goodbye to Aspen, and then I really do have to head out," she says and pulls her suitcase closer to her body. "Adriana's already waiting for me in her car."

I expect Martina to hurry out of the room, but a figure looming in our doorway catches her eye. Aspen waits with a small, solemn smile, appearing like a different person in a pair of flowy pants and a pink blouse. Martina closes their distance and pulls Aspen into a tight hug, but to my surprise, she drags me into the embrace.

"You guys are the only reason I survived this hellhole," she grumbles and then releases a laughing Aspen. "I swear this place was full of more drama than my Catholic high school." No words echo my thoughts more than her own, giving me at least one reason to celebrate my departure from this camp.

"Speaking of school," Aspen says, turning to me. "Martina told me you're also going to college in New York, and I was wondering if I could get your number, in case making friends turns out to be a lot harder than I think."

"Oh gosh, yes, of course," I reply and pull out my phone.

After taking turns inserting each other's numbers, we have a brief conversation about our respective majors and dream jobs, and I discover that she also wants a career in the health field. Martina mumbles some wry remark about having zero life plans before being interrupted by a phone call from her sister.

Another solemn goodbye, and I'm left alone in our lifeless room. I sigh and text my mom, even though I don't expect a reply while she's still on the road. I could head outside and join the other groups of girls bidding each other farewell, but then I remember the only person left that I'll miss from this camp is Axel.

We parted ways after coming back here late last evening, and I spent almost the whole night mulling over what he told me and the very real possibility of returning to this camp next summer. Bob already gave me his contact information and a large informational packet earlier this morning, seeming hopeful I would accept his offer.

As I step outside, leaving my bags in my room for the moment, a familiar hand lands on my shoulder. I turn around and find Axel standing by the back of the building, one hand stuffed into his pocket and the other holding a small piece of paper.

"What is that?" I ask as he pushes it towards me.

"My number," he replies and drops the note into my palm. "You know, in case you need to discuss Bob's offer."

"Well, that's a little old school of you," I joke, having expected him to just ask for my number and text me his. "But of course. I'll be sure to text you if I have any questions about the job."

"Right," he says, even though we both know the job is the least of our concerns. He places a hand on my shoulder and leans forward. "You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, right?"

"Who says it's goodbye? I still need lots of workout tips from you. I have to figure out how the hell I'm going to do this on my own, remember?"

A big goofy smile overtakes his lips, and he pulls me towards him. When he notices the way I hesitate to hug him back, his expression falls. "You're still upset over what I told you yesterday."

I press a finger to his lips, shutting him up. "I don't want to talk about that right now. You already said more than enough last night, so don't make it worse for yourself."

"So, are we good, then?" he asks, speaking over my finger. I yank it away, feeling my cheeks warm. "For now, that is."

"Sure," I reply, but the word doesn't come out with much conviction, "for now."

The sound of loud footsteps startles us both, and we pull away from each other.

"Glad to see everyone getting along," Bob comments from behind Axel.

Axel clears his throat into his fist and sends a weak smile to his boss. "My pleasure, Bob."

The man gives him a firm pat on the back, chuckling to himself, while I wait for the earth to open up and swallow me whole. "Will be waiting to hear from you, Whitney," he tells me with a nod approval. He begins walking away, stretching his arms above his head and mumbling, "Ah, at last, my freedom."

"Get over here," Axel demands once Bob is out of sight and pulls me into a bone crushing hug, one that's harder to refuse. He rests one hand on my lower back and the other on the top of my head, pushing me deeper into his chest. I'm glad half of my face is concealed when a few tears start building in my right eye, dampening his shirt. He tips my face up and brushes away the droplet that escaped with his thumb. "Hey, don't cry. I thought you said this wasn't goodbye?"

"It's not," I whisper and pull away. I wipe the last of my tears with the heels of my hands and add much more quietly, "But I can still be sad." Over everything...

The text from my mom telling me that she's here reminds me that this experience is over. I give one last painful smile to Axel and hurry back to my room to grab my bags and begin the solemn march to the parking lot. I spot her silver SUV several spots away from the cars on both sides, knowing it's her from the signature parking style.

She steps out of her car, and her eyes widen when she sees me. "Whitney?" She looks me over from head to toe. "Oh my gosh, you look so different!"

"Mom," I breathe, coming over and wrapping my arms around her. I feel like a small child as she pulls me into her chest and smooths my hair down with her palm.

She lets go and shakes her head to herself. "What did they even do to you here? I can only imagine the stories you're going to tell."

I laugh with her as she hauls my bags into the open trunk, not even knowing where to start—or if I'm going to say anything it all. "It's been a long five weeks, Mom."

She pulls out of the lot, and the camp gets smaller and smaller as we drive away, soon becoming nothing more than a dot in the distance. "It sure has," she answers, making a right turn. "We've missed you so much at home, especially Poppy. She'll be back from New York tomorrow."

The ride home consists of one-sided conversation, even though I try my best not to let my disinterest show. Every mile closer to our destination, I realize how different home is going to feel, knowing I can't hang out with Mina like before or look at my dad in the same way.

She pulls up into our driveway and parks at the end, pausing before she opens the door.

"Mom, where's Dad?" I ask, unsure if his car is in the garage.

"At work," she says, looking at me like I should know better. "He said he might be home for dinner."

I say nothing else and drag my suitcase and duffel bag through the garage door and drop them off in the mudroom, not even wanting to think about unloading them. I take a moment to inhale the scent of freshly brewed coffee in the kitchen and the fresh air wafting in through the open windows, realizing I missed something about home.

"Do you want to have a late breakfast?" my mom asks, placing a light hand on my shoulder. "We have some leftover bagels and muffins from the bakery."

"Blueberry or chocolate chip?"

"Blueberry, of course," she replies. "Your favorite."

When she leaves, I drop down to a chair at the kitchen table and just stare at the perfectly golden-brown muffin sitting on my plate. Before I can even break off a piece, my eyes blur with more tears again, the ones that stayed lodged inside in front of Axel, as I realize I'm finally all alone with my thoughts.

***

"You look tired."

I let out another loud, unfeminine yawn, giving up on clamping my hand over my mouth, because the moment I let go, another yawn takes the last one's place. I rake my hands through my tousled hair, leaning on my elbows.

"I did just spend the last five weeks exercising," I say, yawning again. I fight the urge to rip my hair out of my head and stare at the other patrons in the café, actually letting their coffees work their magic. I take a sip of my iced caramel macchiato, now sickly sweet to my taste buds.

"No, no, not that kind of tired," Poppy says. She takes a small sip of her piping hot cappuccino. "I'm talking about the couldn't-sleep-until-three-a.m.-up-thinking kind of tired. Did you even sleep?"

"I think it'd be better if I didn't answer that question," I jokingly answer, rubbing my hand down my face. My eyelids could barely open this morning, burning in even the dimmest light. "But if you're that curious, I'm pretty sure I drifted off around four before waking up for good at seven-thirty."

"What's wrong, Whit?"

"Forget about me for a moment," I say and take a bite of my bagel. "After all, isn't your wedding coming up in less than a month?"

"Don't remind me," she squeals. "I can't believe it's coming up so fast."

"Are you excited?"

She smiles. "For sure. It's just all happening so soon, and I almost want it to be over with so Levi and I finally can be a happily married couple already."

I sigh dreamily. "It must have been nice to find someone on your same page."

She laughs, running her fingers over her hair. "Well, Levi was about willing to do anything to get his mother off our case, but I managed to convince him to stand his ground. The ceremony is going to be a small and simple outside event, not too many guests, much to Mom's disappointment. And then...it's off to Italy."

I force a smile. "I'm so happy for you guys. I can already picture how stunning of a bride you're going to be."

"You don't seem happy yourself, Whit," she says, frowning. She leans forward and asks the million-dollar question, "Are you okay? I don't want to assume, but did something happen between you...and Axel?"

"Not in the way you think," I says, shaking my head. "I just found out some...news from him two days ago, and I've been kind of living in a fog since then." Some part of me wishes he didn't wait that long to tell me the truth, knowing I may have gotten over it more quickly earlier on. "I don't even think I reacted the way I should have when he told me, but I'm not sure there's a right way to react to something like that."

"Oh God, Whitney, you're worrying me." Poppy's face pales. "What did he tell you?"

I decide to take the path of bluntness. "To start, I found out he knew who I was before I even arrived at that camp." Her eyes turn to saucers, and I catch myself, realizing how creepy that sounds—but on second thought, maybe it actually is. "Because his dad was our dad's...colleague back in the day...until he died." I add much more softly, "Until he died in that subway accident ten years ago."

Poppy covers her mouth with her hand in disbelief. "His dad is Christian Chandler, right? Oh God, you don't even know how many times that name came up in arguments between Mom and Dad when we were kids."

"I saw a book with his dad's name on it a couple weeks ago, and I could swear it looked familiar, but I didn't know in what way." I swirl my straw mindlessly around the half-melted ice in my drink. "Dad's name must have left a bitter taste in Axel's family, because the whole point he chose to work with me was to see if I was anything like the image of him in his head."

"Isn't that a little odd?" she asks, cocking her head slightly to one side. "Did he not realize you had nothing to do with the whole situation?"

"Yeah," I say, "but I'm involved by proxy. What hurt the most was hearing what Dad did from him, not our own two parents." I take a long sip, letting the cold caffeine revive me. "How much do you know, Poppy, that I don't?"

"A lot," she whispers, staring down at the wooden table. "The walls of my old bedroom were so thin that I used to hear every single one of Mom and Dad's late-night arguments growing up. Every accusation, every curse word, every threat of divorce..." The last word hurts the most, because even I was aware of that very real consideration by my mother. "I never wanted you to know how much that accident fucked Dad up. Because you were just a kid."

"Well," I scoff, "I guess it's a little late now. Hell, I don't even know what I'm looking for right now. Advice? Closure? Because to tell you the truth, I'm not even as mad at Axel for making me think we were strangers for five weeks as much as I'm mad at Dad for having had none of the 'business ethics' he preaches, to put it lightly. Is it really true he didn't go to the funeral?"

She nods solemnly. "Dad didn't have it in him. Mom paid Axel's mother a visit in private a few weeks later, but they lost touch after we moved. Either that, or Dad eventually forced to Mom to cut that family off. I don't know, Whitney."

"Huh, pretend like they don't exist, I guess," I say with a small sardonic laugh. "Would it be weird if I—" I stop myself, realizing I could keep the rest of my thoughts about Axel private, because they don't align well with what I just revealed.

Poppy furrows her brow. "Would what be weird?"

I give up on privacy. "To still keep in touch with Axel," I say. "I like him, Poppy. He grew on me so much during my time there, to the point I had to remind myself this morning I wasn't going to see him in a few hours for a workout. But how could I ever expect us to be anything if he has to face Dad eventually?"

Poppy smiles a lifeless smile and looks down at her left hand flat on the table, the diamond solitaire gleaming. "Family doesn't mean much when you like someone, Whitney. Levi's mother raised hell without ever knowing my parents in past, and if it was up to Mom, I'd be getting married in four years, not less than four weeks. Do you know what you really need?"

I look up. "What?"

"You need to stop living to please other people's opinions and start listening to your own heart." She leans over the small table and taps the middle of my chest lightly. "Only you know what feels right."