The Definition of Fate

Chapter 17

loving you was breathing
but the breath disappearing
before it filled my lungs
- Rupi Kaur

Though this is our third run-in, and though I shouldn't have expected to escape without another encounter, seeing him still hits me with the force of a bullet. Josh. His voice reverberates through me and I stop where I stand. I turn and find him chasing after me at a slow jog. He was looking for me. I think about all the opportunities he had years ago to chase after me that he didn't take. Why now? What's changed?

"Josh," I breathe. "Hey."

"Hey." He grins at me and all I can see is the boy who drew me into his orbit all those years ago. "Were you talking to yourself again?"

Again. For years, I've thought of these memories as only mine, but they're not. These memories are ours--he knows me as well as I know him. All of the snapshots in my mind are shared between us. Josh remembers too.

"Uh, yeah. I was planning what I'm going to write in my article," I answer.

"How'd your meeting go?" he asks, catching up with me so we're only a few feet apart. The space is tense with these dusty shared memories.

"It was amazing, actually," I answer, losing myself in a smile over Teresa's incredible project. "She's in charge of this huge nation-wide project and it's so incredible that Columbus gets to be a part of it. I mean, this place could have a huge impact on the entire region, and--" I stop my rambling when I see a slow, steady grin spread across Josh's face. "What?"

"I just...I forgot how cute you look when you get excited about something."

My face flames at his words, and my heart flutters in my chest. Cute. He still thinks I'm cute. Something so childish shouldn't fill me with butterflies anymore, but it does. More than that, he remembers what we had; I wonder if he treasures those memories as much as I do. I look down at my feet and the sunlight that flickers through the leaves on the path.

"I, uh, I guess I should get going."

But I can't pull myself away from him. My eyes flicker back up to his and I want nothing more than to stay here talking with him for hours. Remember what he did to you. But this isn't the same boy who hurt me; he's changed, and by the softened lines around his eyes and the easy confidence in the set of his shoulders, I think he's changed for the better. Or at least I want to believe he has.

He says nothing, and I turn to go back to my car, my heart thumping an unsteady rhythm in my chest. "Wait, Rach. Don't go."

If only you'd said that four years ago. But despite my every resolution, his voice arrests me. My shoulders stiffen in indecision and I turn around. What is there to say if we continue to dance around the truth? Do I even have the courage to face the past if he brings it into the present?

"Stay," he murmurs, the silver in his eyes brought out by the warmth of the sky. "This camp, it's...it's mine, and I'd love to show it to you."

I suck in a breath. "It's yours?"

Years ago, Josh's dream was to run a place like this, to build a sanctuary for kids to find peace and rest in the outdoors because this was the only place he had peace growing up. I see the pride in his stance as he says the words and my heart swells for him.

"It's mine. After I graduated, well, I ended up here."

Before I can tell myself to keep the barricade erected between us, I reach for him and touch his forearm. "Josh, I'm so proud of you."

This first touch is tentative, involuntary, uncertain. Energy sparks between us where my fingertips graze his forearm. It's not the raging spark that I remember; rather, it feels like we have finally been reconnected and a rush of warmth flows through us again. I pull my hand away seconds later, unsure if the boundary I've crossed should have been breached.