June 18

Loon Call Island, Lake Rosseau, Muskoka

Sweat trickles down my forehead as I swing the ax down on the log in front of me. I've been chopping wood for hours, trying to burn off the restless energy coursing through me.

Thunk! The log splits cleanly in two, the ax blade embedding itself into the stump beneath it.

I place my booted foot on the stump and twist my ax out from where it's stuck. My arms, shoulders, and back are screaming from exhaustion.

My parents left for the city two days ago, and I have no idea when they'll be back up. I normally hang at Ry's, but his family was having some fancy dinner tonight, and I didn't want to be anywhere near it, even though I knew I was welcome.

Thunk! The impact vibrates through me.

The sky is a dark red as the sun sets, and I take a moment to drink it in, to catch my breath. Every summer I come here, the more I dread returning to the city in September. I'm the worst version of myself in the city, surrounded by imposters at school, cooped up in class. My only consolation in the past was that I'd still see Elle there, too. Especially once she started at Beaton.

Then I'd gone and tangled all that up.

Even before we changed the dynamic of our relationship, she was the brightest part of my life, the purest, sweetest part. The whole group gives me some measure of happiness; they accept me as I am, but I can still see their worried looks, hear their whispered concerns, sometimes.

It was always with Elle that I felt most at peace, most accepted, most loved. Her friendship and love came with no strings, no quid pro quo. They were there, ever present, and steady.

Four days have come and gone since I last saw Elle, or even had the chance to see her. I really hope that I'll get to talk to her before we start work on Monday.

I just need one thing to go my way.

I pick up the ax again and start swinging, determined to clear the pile of logs by the shed. While I chop, I let my mind wander.

Ry's mom, Jill, is driving us down to see Liam tomorrow, so my only chances to speak with Elle are either tonight, or tomorrow night, but I don't know what condition I'll be in when I get back.

As much as I need to see Liam, to spend time with him, to cherish those moments and support him, I dread every visit, knowing what I'll see. I'll see my friend deteriorating.

I spend each car ride imagining what he'll look like, what he'll feel like, I wonder if this visit will be the day we get good news, or if we'll get more bad news.

Every visit makes me ill, but I'll never miss one. I might be an asshole, but I'll never let Liam down.

Looking down at the small scar on my palm, just below my thumb, I smile. Liam has a matching one.

We went on our first camping trip together when we were eight. Sure, it was only in the woods behind my cottage, but we brought food, water, enough to last us two nights.

Liam swiped some skin mags from his cousin and we'd eaten Twinkies, Twizzlers, hot dogs, and marshmallows, chased down by rootbeer until our stomachs hurt.

That night, Liam asked me if I wanted to be real brothers. I remember laughing at him. Even I knew that was impossible. But he'd been insistent. We could be blood brothers if I wanted to.

The look in his eyes told me how much he wanted it. He was an only child, always lonely. I think it's part of the reason we got along so well. He was always lonely, so even my sorry ass was an improvement. He was content to have a partner in crime.

So, that night we'd scored our palms with the swiss army knives we brought, cleaning them with the Zippo lighter first. When we pressed our hands together, and he called me his brother, it was the first time I felt anyone really, truly wanted me just for me.

It's the same feeling I get when I'm with Elle. I recognized it immediately, that sense of belonging. The only difference is, Liam chose me, we didn't grow up together, and I chose him. They say you can't pick your family, but I disagree. I did pick my family, and now part of it's being ripped away from me, slowly but surely, even as I cling to it for dear life.

Hauling air into my burning lungs, I continue to swing the ax down, splitting the wood piece after piece, watching with a grim satisfaction as the pile dwindles. We'll have firewood for a year at this rate.

I swing the ax back down onto the stump, leaving it embedded there this time.

Repeating the gesture, until the woodpile is finally empty, I stand, stretch, and grab my bottle of water off the ground. I drink deeply, then pour the rest over my face, head, and neck. I shake my head, like a dog coming out of the water.

Piper, our family Lab, barks at me, circling, mistaking the flying water droplets for rain. He loves the rain. I lean down and scratch his neck. "Sorry, Pip, no such luck. Let's go for a swim, buddy."

Not bothering to stop for a bathing suit, I strip down to my boxer briefs when I hit the dock. I throw the ball off the end of the dock, sending Piper into wiggles of ecstasy before he launches himself in after it.

I dive in after him, sucking air through my gritted teeth when I surface, as the water stings my palms. I turn them over to see the raw, ripped, and bloody blisters I've given myself. I grind my teeth together until the pain passes. I'm just grateful to feel something.

Rolling onto my back, I look up into the darkening sky, debating whether I should go over to try to talk to Elle tonight.

Piper tries to climb on top of me as I float, huffing and spraying water on me from around the wet tennis ball in his mouth. Idiot dog.

Swimming back to shore, I leave Piper lazing on the dock contentedly as I climb to the top of the cliff where I can see down to Elle's cottage. As the bird flies, it's only a short distance down, and I have a relatively clear view.

I'm surprised to see her lying on the boathouse roof, looking up at the sky. I haven't seen her there yet this summer.

Not for lack of looking for her, that's for sure.

I squint slightly, trying to make out what she might be doing.

Elle twists her body up and into some kind of arch, bending and dropping her elbows to the deck. She pulls her legs into the air, and for a second, she's in this headstand. Then, she wobbles, crashing back down to her knees and bouncing to land on her ass.

Another body steps into view from the covered portion of the boathouse, and I realize almost instantly that it's Hud.

His laugh booms out, carrying over the water, before he crouches down beside her. When he pokes her ribs, her laughter joins his; light, bubbly, and free.

Moving to sit on the rock, I watch them. Hud makes some kind of gesture to Elle, and she lies down on the roof again. I imagine him encouraging her to try again.

I have absolutely no clue what they are doing, or why.

This time, when she pushes herself up, he stays close to her, not helping, but ready to catch her if she falls.

Even as I smile at their easy friendship, I feel a pang of envy. If I could turn the clock back twelve months, it would be me down there, helping her, catching her when she falls.

Hud's hooting cheer is loud, echoing over the still water. He's circling Elle as she holds a shaky, but stable headstand. I watch him steady her, one hand on her foot, the other on her back as she slowly, shakily bends back into her arched bridge position and flops down, shrieking with delight as Hud scoops her up, twirling her around in a celebratory dance.

I keep watching, curious. Hud lies down on his back, raising his arms to Elle and lifting his feet, waiting. When she shakes her head, I smile. Whatever Hud's asking her to do, she clearly doesn't want to, but he stays where he is, and I know he'll convince her.

When she eventually leans forward, I can practically hear her sigh of concession. She places her hands in his and lets him push her up off the ground with his feet. I start to laugh quietly. We all took turns doing this with Brodie when we were younger, it felt like you were a superhero.

I watch them a while longer, content observing unnoticed, wondering what they might be talking about, but content to listen to the laughter that floats up towards me every now and then. I watch as they practice lifts, some easy tosses, and as she twists Hudson into a pretzel, laughing when he gets stuck before she steps forward to untangle him.

From the way Hud is handling her, I get the feeling he's working her up to join him in the ski show, for the big exhibition at the end of the summer.

With a sigh, feeling like a voyeur and an outsider, I stand and head back to my cottage. Knowing Hud will stay late, or even sleep over, it doesn't look like I'll speak to Elle tonight.

Piper is waiting for me when I walk to the door, and I crouch down. "At least you're here for me, bud." A sloppy lick across my face is the only answer I get.

Opening the door, Piper breezes through, waiting to see where I'll go. I strip from the damp boxers, dropping them on the floor by the bathroom before brushing my teeth and flopping down into my bed. Piper, needing no invitation, leaps up, circling once, twice, three times, before settling down as close to me as he can get.

So, comforted by the dog, and the light breeze rolling through my window, I drift to sleep, dreaming of Elle's sweet laughter. And in dreams, I'm the one she's laughing with.

- - -

Here we go! I'm really enjoying writing from Greyson's POV, more so than I thought I would. What do you think of our other MC so far? 

Hope you'll join me in the comments, or vote if you're loving the story so far, or to share your thoughts on how I might be able to improve it!

Xx Toria