Boot Camp

32: Old Version

"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 my elbows farther onto the table.

"I did just spend the last five weeks exercising," I reply, yawning again. I fight the urge to rip my hair out of my head.

Poppy and I are sitting at a small table in the corner of a local coffee shop, the buzz of people talking and moving about sounding in the background and the aroma of freshly brewed goodness filling our nostrils. I look down at the table and take a sip of my caramel iced coffee.

"No, no, not that kind of tired," she says, shaking her head as she softly sips 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, making it feel like my mascara was stabbing my eyes as I applied it. "But if you're that curious, I'm pretty sure I drifted off around four before waking up for good at six-thirty."

"What's wrong, Whit?" She places her hand on top of my arm, imploring me to reveal all of my secrets with a simple look of her sea-green eyes. A shaky breath escapes me.

"Poppy, is it weird to really, and I mean really, like someone after only knowing them for a month?" I can't bring myself to think or say the word "love" at this point, so this is what I have to go with.

She snorts. "Levi and I were making out in the bathrooms by the third week of freshman year, and four years later we're getting married. It's not weird at all. Now, is this about Axel?"

"Who else, Poppy?" I let out a humorless laugh.

"Did something happen between you two? Or wait...did nothing happen at all?" I shake my head, refuting her second question. Maybe it would be easier if nothing did happen...

I take a couple more sips of my coffee before folding my hands together and pouring my heart out to my sister. "I didn't come into this camp thinking I'd meet anyone, but from the first time I saw Axel, I felt something. Call it lust or whatever other emotion Grandma would say is from the Devil himself, but I liked him. But I gave up pretty soon on the idea of him liking me back, because he was well, kind of an asshole at first. It was like he hated me for something that I myself didn't even know about."

"What was that thing?" she interjects, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"I'm getting there," I answer with a soft chuckle, swirling the straw to my drink. "Two weeks or so in, he was a lot kinder, almost like a different person. And I would almost forget about the fact that the way he first treated me could actually mean something, until those little moments he'd start acting cold and distant again would remind me. We ended up kissing, and it all seemed rosy from there until he told me the truth."

"Oh God, Whitney, I'm worried." Poppy's face pales.

"I almost saw it coming, but it was a lot different hearing it from his mouth. His dad worked under ours for years back when we lived in New York. And at least from him, Dad wasn't a kindhearted boss in the slightest. He—Axel's dad—died in the same accident that got Dad to eventually leave New York."

Poppy covers her mouth with her hand in disbelief. "Oh my god, I-I remember that. I can almost see the fight Mom and Dad had that night in front of my eyes."

I gulp, wondering how many fights they must have had over that situation. I was too young to have paid enough attention. "Yeah... And maybe you're asking yourself how I have anything to do with this, and the truth is, I don't. Axel was just so blinded by his anger towards our dad that he found me as a way to let out his frustration, and this is the part that messes me up. Like I said, I really like him and could see myself with him, but how can I be with a guy knowing these are our roots? Some weird game of revenge on his part over something I never had anything to do with?"

"Oh, Whitney," Poppy sighs, squeezing the hand on my arm. "I totally get it. This has to be the worst dilemma of all: being dragged into a mess that isn't yours and falling in love along the way."

"Put that in a quote book," I mumble sardonically, staring down at the worn-out wood of the table. "We got into a fight after he told me that, but it sort of mellowed out. I wasn't as angry at him as I thought, but before you worry, I did give him a piece of my mind because I'm not that weak of a bitch." We both laugh at the rather humorless situation, but the happiness dies down as I continue. "I found myself angrier at Dad. At the hilarious fact that the demise of something that could have been good was his fault, and he probably won't ever know."

Poppy pulls back. "But who says he won't?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tell him, Whitney. What would you have to lose anyway." That does hurt, but I know she isn't saying it to spite me. "At the best, you'll just be more complacent knowing you drowned him in more guilt because trust me, while Axel may have been entirely wrong in his intentions, Dad wasn't a good guy back then. All those fights were going somewhere..."

"Were there really that many fights?" I ask, feeling the pit of my stomach fill with nerves like a kid's would standing at the top of the staircase eavesdropping on their parents' arguments.

I realize that kid must have been Poppy.

"Yeah," she says quietly, tracing her fingers over the tabletop absentmindedly. "I always tried to make sure you weren't aware of most of them, but things were bad. The guilt after that accident ate Dad alive, and I guess instead of facing it, he ran away. And here we are." I wince when I realize that quality of mine is from him.

"Thank you for that," I tell her, giving her a small smile. "For being a good sister."

"I would've done anything for you, Whit, and I'd do even more now," she replies, and my heart swells with love. She's a lot better of a person than she likes to give herself credit for. "I still say don't scratch the idea of confronting Dad."

"I don't know, but I know if I did, I wouldn't find it in me to drown him in guilt." As much as I dislike my father, that just seems wrong. Almost as wrong as staying mad at Axel forever seems.

"I knew you would say that," she replies with a weak smile. "Truth be told, I don't think I could do that either, even though my heart isn't quite as big as yours. But you can't let him go on without knowing this, Whitney."

"I know, I know," I reply, tugging my hands through my hair again. "But resolving my issues with him won't entirely fix the problem with Axel. I know he feels the same way I do about him, but I just... I don't want my forgiveness to be a free chance for him to think I'll always forgive him, if we ever do get together. Am I overthinking this?"

"Just answer one question honestly," she says, and I perk up, fixing my slouchy posture. "Does Axel feel guilty about his motives?"

"Yes, he definitely does," I answer, not even having to hesitate. "He even told me he wouldn't be mad if I never wanted to speak to him again after this."

She sighs, looking up and down my face with sympathy. "I can't tell you what to do, but if he can be that objective in a circumstance like this, that says something. Now, how about we get our minds off this and go do some shopping? It'll be my treat."