Chapter Text
The drive feels the same, only quieter.
The roads haven’t changed, though the trees seem taller somehow. The sun is still too bright, too warm, almost mocking her, given her bad mood. Her bike still runs too fast, still complains when she takes corners sharper than it likes.
The sign welcoming her into the forest is unchanged; weather-worn, familiar, achingly like home. The car park is emptier than usual, but then again, she’s never arrived this early before. Mandy stands beside a delivery truck, her hat pulled on backward, squinting into the sunlight as she watches Courtney roll to a stop.
She grins wide, sunny and warm, and waves. Courtney catches the flicker of confusion beneath it, and her stomach drops, twisting with the same sick feeling that’s been lodged there for the past month.
Camp SDN feels far too quiet when she finally swings off her bike, her combat boot crunching into old pine needles. It’s the kind of quiet that suggests something is missing.
“Hey.” Mandy rushes in and pulls her into a hug, all warmth and sweetness. “You’re here early.”
That same frown returns, lips tugged into a puzzled half-smile as her gaze drifts to the bike seat, like she’s expecting someone to materialize out of thin air. “Where’s Robert?”
She swallows and the pit in her stomach yawns open into something vast, a canyon that devours everything good. It churns, a storm trapped between two cliffs, and the ache settles deep in her bones. Acid rises to her tongue, burning worse when she forces it back down.
Her voice cracks, just enough to make Mandy’s eyes widen. “We broke up.”
“What happened?”
Mandy doesn’t hesitate. She takes Courtney’s backpack, then her hand, and leads the way. Neither of them looks toward Chase’s office cabin, their eyes fixed straight ahead as Courtney lets herself be guided through the trees.
The paths are unchanged, more dirt than gravel, worn smooth by years of use, winding through the oaks in a way she knows by heart. The lake sits to her left, unnervingly still, kayaks stacked neatly along the shore. Nausea rolls through her stomach in waves, but she pushes on.
“I— fuck.” Courtney lets out a laugh, broken and desperate, a sound that doesn’t match the sting in her eyes. Mandy glances back at her, her expression more serious than Courtney has ever seen it.
“C’mon,” Mandy murmurs, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She picks up the pace, leading her down the path and past a fallen log, through rows of empty cabins that will be bursting with kids, noise, and laughter in just two days. “Almost there.”
She already has the keys to Courtney’s cabin, the door propped open to air it out. The familiar scent of pine lingers beneath a year’s worth of mustiness. Faded outlines stain the walls, ghost marks left by tape that never quite comes off, quiet reminders of the photos and postcards that fill the space every summer.
Courtney knows that if she pulled out her bedside table, she’d find the etchings carved into the back: shallow lines cut with a penknife that wasn’t hers, a name beside her own, a heart enclosing the letters. A joke, back then, that she hadn’t found funny at all— one she still doesn’t laugh at now.
The cabin she’d spent three summers in suddenly doesn’t feel like hers anymore.
But then Mandy has her by the shoulders, worry etched deep into her face, brows pulled tight. For a moment, Courtney wonders what could make her stop the conversation before it even begins. Instead, Mandy lifts a finger and gently traces it along Courtney’s cheek, catching a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen.
“Tell me everything.”
–-
She had known something was wrong the moment Robert called.
It was late enough that when he asked her to come over, she’d grinned, teasing him about a booty call. He hadn’t laughed. He hadn’t even answered when she asked what was going on, and her grin faded, leaving a frown in its place.
She grabbed her keys anyway, muttering an excuse to her roommate as she slipped out of the dorm wearing black pajama shorts and a navy camp sweatshirt with Robert’s last name stitched across the front. She shoved her feet into an old pair of black Converse, cold and uncomfortable despite the way LA never really cooled down at night. Her bike grumbled the whole ride to his place, like it knew something, like it was trying to warn her.
Robert had been waiting out front, hands buried in the pockets of his sweatpants, hair messier than usual, as if he’d been dragging his fingers through it again and again. When she cut the engine and pulled off her helmet, she smiled at him. He smiled back but it wasn’t the same.
“Hey,” she greeted him cautiously, reaching for him as she rose onto her toes to kiss his cheek.
He caught her off guard when he turned toward her, her lips barely brushing his skin before his mouth found hers, urgent, almost desperate. His nose pressed hard against her cheek, his hand tightening around hers like he was afraid she might vanish. He exhaled into the kiss, breath shaky, heavy with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.
“What’s up?” She asked when he finally pulled away, his gaze weighted, brows drawn tight. “Why are you waiting outside?”
He gave her hand a gentle tug, taking a step back.
“Let’s go sit out back.”
She let him lead her to the low wall that surrounds the building, the city closing in around them, cars rushing past, sirens echoing somewhere in the distance.
“You’re starting to worry me,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were about to break up with me, Wonder Boy.”
He sat beside her, close enough that their knees knocked together, both of their hands clasped tightly in their own laps. She wanted to reach for him, to bridge the space between them, but something told her she couldn’t. Not like she used to.
She’d seen him just last night. A kiss pressed against the door of her dorm room, his knuckles tucked beneath her chin, guiding her face up as they grinned into each other’s mouths, whispering about her roommate returning any second, about how they’d be caught like this— lovesick and melted together.
What had happened?
She watched Robert blow out a breath, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pushed himself to speak. “I’m moving to Detroit.”
She blinked. “Uh?”
He leaned back, hands curling into fists in his lap.
“Courtney, I—” He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “There’s this program back there. Professor Connors mentioned it to me, and I—”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” she snapped before she could stop herself, brows knitting together in pure confusion. Professor Connors? Detroit?
“He’s financing a program that’s meant to help normies get a shot at being a hero,” he had explained, his eyes locked on hers, like he needed her to understand this or he’d shatter. “Normies like me. He says they’re building augments to replicate abilities. Speed, strength, reaction time. Synthetic advantages. It’s experimental, but he thinks it could change everything.”
He exhaled, almost defensive. “He says I’m proof it’s possible. With the suit. With me being Mecha Man and all.”
“You said you don’t want to be Mecha Man anymore—” she started, thoughts racing faster than she could catch them, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to keep up. She shaked her head. “And what do you mean, augments?” Her voice sharpens with disbelief. “Augments like mine?”
Robert grimaces, his nose wrinkling as his eyes drop to the ground. He shrugs, too casual for what he’s admitting. “I told him about yours. A while back.”
The words slam into her, her heart tightening painfully in her chest.
“He says with his money,” Robert adds quietly, “they could improve it. Make it actually work.”
Her stomach dropped and lurched. A sardonic laugh crept up her throat that she didn’t try to tame, anger and betrayal simmering under her skin. She shook your head. “You fucking told him about my augments? What the fuck, Robert?”
Robert groaned, dragging a hand through his hair and only making it messier. “Sweetheart—”
“How could you do this?” she snapped, her face flushing with barely contained anger. “You know how I feel about them, how they make me—” She cut herself off, biting hard on her tongue, the words how they make me hate myself dying in her throat. “Is this some kind of fucking sick joke?”
“You could come with me,” he said, his eyes softening, hope flickering there. Courtney wanted to punch him for it. “They could fix it. Hell, they could take them off, if you wanted.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Robert,” she snapped, standing and pacing back and forth, fists clenched tight at her sides.
“It’s a government program,” he argued, like it was supposed to change everything. “Courtney, this could change so many lives. Create new heroes. Give hope to people who lost it.”
“You really want to do it,” she said. Not a question. A fact. She could see it in his eyes. “Fuck, you’ve already fucking decided.”
“Come with me,” he pleaded. “Come live in Detroit with me. Just—just be with me, alright?” Courtney watched him stand, watched him reach for her hands. She didn’t let him take them. “It’s all set up. Housing, groceries, even cars. We’d live right on site. You could finish the term remotely.”
Courtney barked out a laugh—cruel, sharp. “And they’d be okay with me being there?” she asked, the unspoken with me being a former villain hanging heavy between them.
“I mean, they haven’t said anything about that, but I—”
She’d heard the phrase before, that stupid expression about someone’s blood running cold. She’d always thought it exaggerated, dramatic.
Until now.
Her body went icy, a sharp chill racing through her, settling into her bones until they felt brittle, fragile enough to splinter. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
“Detroit, Robert. Fucking Detroit—that’s the other side of the country. What the fuck, dude?”
“Courtney.” He said her name without its usual warmth. The affection was still there, but his voice sounded tired, worn thin. “It’s paid for. It’s all—shit. Professor Connors set everything up. He was a friend of my dad’s, back in the day.”
She laughed then, harsh, bitter, ugly, but only to keep from crying. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, her voice turning sharp enough to cut. “So what, then? Daddy decided for you?” she snapped. “That’s it? Asked his fucking bestie to take you under his wing?”
Robert flinched before straightening, shoulders rolling back as he braced himself for the fight he knew was coming. She pretended not to notice the glassiness in his eyes, matching her own, focusing instead on the way his gaze hardened, the tension pulling tight through his frame.
“It’s a good opportunity, alright?” he said. “I could do a lot of good back there.”
“That’s fucking bullshit, Robert,” she snapped, shoving him back when he tried to step closer, her hand flat against his chest. “Don’t feed me the same crap he drilled into you, okay? I don’t give a shit about whining normies. You don’t even want to be Mecha Man anymore. If you want to torture yourself this badly just do it in LA.”
“What am I supposed to do, huh?” Robert’s voice rose, cutting through the noise of the city. “Turn it down? You’re the one who said you wanted to get out of here, Court. I’m just giving you what you wanted!”
“Like hell you are!” she snapped, pacing away from him before turning back, her finger jabbing accusingly into his chest. “Don’t you fucking dare, Robert. Don’t you fucking pretend you’re doing this for me.”
“I am,” he said, and somehow, she could see that he meant it. His eyes were earnest, almost desperate. “They could help with your augments. Make them work again. Remove them. Whatever you want. They have the money to make it happen.”
“You’re lying to yourself,” she said through clenched teeth, shaking her head slowly, disbelief giving way to hurt, then anger. “You want to go out there because of your fucking hero complex, and I’m sick of it. I’m fucking sick of you pretending to be someone you’re not just because your dad died and left you drowning in expectations.”
Silence fell between them, thick and suffocating. Courtney welcomed the anger like an old friend, clung to it until it swallowed everything else, until even the sound of her own heartbeat was drowned out by the rage pooling in her veins. She watched Robert deflate, his shoulders sagging, his head shaking. She knew she’d gone too far, knew her words had landed exactly where they were meant to. Knew they would hit him and crush him.
She knew, right then, that it was over.
“We could still make it work, alright?” Robert said at last, unable to meet her eyes. She saw his jaw tighten, heard the broken hitch in his breath. “Long distance.”
“What?” She squinted at him, stunned by the sheer absurdity of it. “How would that even work, Robert? It’s like an eighty-hour drive. There’s a fucking time difference, for God’s sake.”
“Then come with me,” he pleaded again.
“There’s nothing in Detroit for me. Or for you,” she said, her voice breaking. “Our friends are here. My fucking college is here. I can’t just—” She squeezed her eyes shut as tears finally spilled, hot and ugly. “I’m not going. I’m not.”
She broke off when Robert cursed under his breath, turning away, scrubbing at his cheek and doing a miserable job of pretending he wasn’t crying too.
“You don’t have to go,” she said, finally stepping closer, her stubborn resolve cracking at the sight of him like this. “You don’t owe him anything anymore. You don’t have to do this.”
“I have to go.” Robert sounded broken now, his breath ragged, his voice splitting. He still wouldn’t look at her. “It’s the right thing to do. I need to go and if you don’t want to come, then—shit.” He let out a hollow, disbelieving laugh, like even he couldn’t believe what was happening.
It felt final, the way he said it.
“So that’s it?” she shot back. “Fuck me, right? Fuck us?”
Robert finally looked at her, his hand flexing uselessly at his side, like he’d stopped himself from reaching for her, from touching her.
The words spilled out of her then, cruel and aimed to kill, before she could stop them.
“You don’t even want to be Mecha Man. You don’t want to be what he was but you’re going to anyway, because your dad was a fucking bully, and even dead he’s still convinced you that you need a goddamn mech suit just to be a man.”
Robert grinned, baring his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile, his gaze fixed somewhere past her as his jaw tightened. She’d never fought with him like this before. There had been sharp words and biting remarks, sure— but never like this. Never over something that could tear them apart.
“You think you know everything, don’t you?” Robert shot back. “You think you’ve got it all figured out? What am I supposed to do, huh? Yeah, he was an asshole but he was still my dad, Visi.”
The nickname made her flinch. It sounded foreign on his tongue, heavy and wrong, something he hadn’t called her in over a year, now loaded with a weight that pressed down on her chest.
“Elliott—fuck, he’s trying to help, okay?” Robert went on, words tumbling faster now. “I could make a real difference. I could be a real hero. Work for the government. I don’t know, make a living out of this.”
“That’s Connors talking,” she said quietly, her voice breaking with something impossibly sad. “None of that ever mattered to you.”
He didn’t listen.
“This is what’s best, alright?”
“No, it’s not,” she snapped. “Jesus, Robert, just listen to me!”
“If you don’t want to move, we can do long distance,” he repeated, as if saying it often enough would make it true. “I’ll visit. You can come during holidays. We’ll make it work.” His voice edged toward panic now, too fast, too hopeful, like he could fix everything if he just kept throwing out ideas. “It could be okay.”
“Tell me you want this and I’ll support you—I swear,” she said, voice thick but steady with resolve. “Tell me you actually want to be a government pawn. Tell me you’ve always dreamed about living in Detroit, about working in some fucking lab. Tell me all of that, and I’ll be there every step of the way.” Her breath hitched. “But tell me it’s what you want. Not what your dad wanted. Not what Connors wants.”
Robert didn’t answer. He just stood there, cheeks damp, no longer bothering to wipe the tears away. They faced each other in silence, eyes locked, noses red, chests heaving with anger and grief.
She shook her head once, barely there, and whispered, “When do you leave?”
“August.”
He watched her turn toward her bike. There was a five-second delay before it hit him, before he realized she was walking away from him.
He chased after her around the building, neighbors peering through cracked curtains as he shouted her name. His voice broke apart with panic, words splintering as they left his mouth, but she didn’t stop.
He held her there in the parking lot, his chest pressed to her back, his arms wrapped around her too tightly, almost painfully, panic thick in the air between them. It felt wrong and heavy, like the ending of something that wasn’t finished yet.
So Courtney tried again. Tears streamed freely down her face as she begged him to stay, to try, promising it would work out somehow. Promising him this wasn’t the life he wanted—that she knew it, that he knew it too.
Didn’t he?
But Robert only shook his head, dragging a hand harshly over his eyes as if he could wipe the tears away along with the doubt. His voice dropped to an agitated whisper as he spoke about responsibility and duty, about expectations, about choosing the greater good over himself. About being written out of a family name, about how money might equal happiness, how maybe his dad had been right.
Maybe he needed to become the man in the suit.
Maybe, just maybe, he could have the life his parents had once had. Money in the bank. A big house. Respect.
That was what being a Robertson meant.
Right?
She sniffed, her lip trembling, brows lifted as her voice turned sharp and mean. “Yeah? Is that what you want, Wonder Boy?” She stepped back out of his arms, fingers shaking as she grabbed her helmet. “You want to be just like your dad? Rack up honors and fan letters and weeping groupies?” Her laugh cracked. “Maybe you’ll pick up a trophy wife in Detroit. Then a girlfriend in another state and hope your kids never find out. Have a son and make him feel just as empty and fucked up as you do.”
Robert went still, silent. He watched her swing onto the bike, watched the ugly smile pull across her face, a smirk that looked cold, hollow.
“Sure, Visi,” he said at last, his voice flat, bitter. “That’s exactly what I fucking want. And yeah, maybe I don’t have a choice—but at least I’m getting out of this town.” His jaw tightened. “Can you say the same? Weren’t you supposed to leave this place? What happened to that, huh? Reality’s pretty fucking ugly, isn’t it?”
“Fuck you,” she laughed, angry and broken and not amused in the slightest. “We were supposed to get out together, you son of a bitch.”
“I told you to come with me!” Robert snapped, his voice sharp, almost a shout. She glared at him from beneath her visor, unmoved by the outburst. “Fuck— you could come with me. We could do this together.”
“It’s not together!” she shot back. “Jesus, Robert, can’t you see that?” Frustration boiled over, her hands clenching into fists before flying up to grip the handlebars. “None of this is us. Not planned by us. Not chosen by us. Not wanted by us. This is all him.”
She jabbed a finger toward Robert. “He’s dictating everything from the fucking grave and you’re eating it up. For what? A statue? Your name on a door?” Her voice broke, sharp and cruel. “Fuck you, Robert. This is crazy.”
Robert went still, stone-faced, his gaze fixed on the dark stretch of tarmac.
“You could be a hero, too.”
The words knocked the breath from her, something ugly twisting hard in her gut.
“I don’t want to be one,” she said. “I don’t need to be one to feel good about myself.”
Robert didn’t answer. But she saw his shoulders tremble, barely there, and then the streetlight caught the tear sliding down his cheek, flashing bright.
He didn’t stop her when she started the engine and drove away.
–-
Mandy is wide-eyed when Courtney finishes, kneeling on the unmade bed beside her, the sheets folded neatly at the foot. Her hand is still wrapped around Courtney’s, fingers tangled together, her thumb brushing slow circles over the back of it. She draws in a sharp breath. “Damn.”
“Damn.” Courtney agrees quietly.
“So it’s over?” Mandy asks, finally letting go as Courtney flops backward, her head hitting the pillow. “That’s it?”
Courtney shrugs, staring up at the ceiling until the wooden beams blur together.
“I guess,” she says. “Yeah.”
Mandy nudges her, crawling up the mattress until Courtney shifts, making room for her on the narrow bed. They lie shoulder to shoulder, sharing the same pillow. Courtney can smell the sunscreen on her skin, the light scent mixing with lemon and lavender, the scent so particularly hers it instantly brings comfort to her aching soul.
“When did this happen?”
“Three weeks ago.” Courtney mumbles, the corners of her eyes stinging again, tears making her throat thick. She’s so sick of crying. “Feels like it’s been a fucking year.”
“And you haven’t spoken since?” Mandy asks. “He’s really going? Wow—I can’t… Detroit? Really?”
“Fucking Detroit,” she agrees with a sigh. “He tried to call me the night after, but I didn’t answer.” She sniffs, pressing the heels of her palms into her aching eyes. “He didn’t try again.”
“Court…” Mandy exhales, her voice heavy.
“I know.” Courtney says quietly, tired already despite having been awake for only four hours. “D’you think I fucked up?” She swallows. “That I was too harsh?”
“I mean… kind of,” Mandy says, apologetic. She turns onto her side to face Courtney, her head propped on her bent arm. “You said some things, Court. I think you said them to hurt and you know they did.”
Courtney doesn’t respond. After a beat, she turns to face her friend. Brown eyes meet icy blue, full of uncertainty.
“That doesn’t mean you were wrong,” Mandy continues with a quiet sigh. “I don’t think you were. But yeah— I can see both sides, I guess.”
“I’m a jerk.” Courtney laments, turning back to face the ceiling.
“I think you’re right about him not actually wanting to move to Detroit or be some corporate hero,” Mandy says. “I mean, I’m not sure anyone on this planet genuinely wants to move to Detroit.” She lets out a quiet giggle before sobering. “But he struggles with his dad. Duty and honor, those things matter to him, you know?”
She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “And yeah, maybe they matter because his dad was a certified a-hole who messed him up. But that scrawny little version of Robert, the one who got left behind over and over again? He’s still in there.” Her voice softens. “And he probably still wants to make his dad proud. Even now that he’s gone.”
Courtney swallows around the lump in her throat, anger flaring at the mention of Robert Robertson Senior. “I know. I just don’t get why,” she says. “I sure as hell don’t give a fuck what my deadbeat dad would’ve thought of me.”
Mandy shrugs lightly. “Me neither—but I guess that comes with growing up with somewhat normal parents.” She hesitates, then adds softly, “I know he loves you. A lot. Maybe he’ll change his mind.”
Courtney sighs again, her gaze drifting back to the wooden ceiling. She holds her breath for no reason, letting herself fade from visibility the way she wishes she could fade from the face of the earth altogether.
Mandy takes her hand again, fingers threading through hers in a friendly grip. “You sure you don’t want to go with him?”
Courtney snaps back into focus in a flash of purple, turning to face her friend, her chest heaving. Her breath stutters— it hurts to hear that Robert loves her. It aches to be reminded.
It sucks, but in the beginning, Courtney counted the days. She was convinced it was only a matter of time before he got tired of her and walked away— half-expecting him to show up one day and shout surprise!, like the whole thing had been some cruel joke. She was terrified that once camp was over and they were back in the city, their relationship would look ridiculous, like the two of them together only made sense inside that small, sealed-off bubble.
But weeks bled into months, and somewhere along the way, Courtney let herself believe. She let herself hope. She fell in love, slowly at first, and then all at once, and maybe, just maybe, Robert had fallen too.
She thinks about the year they spent tangled together. About the way she stole Robert’s hoodies and never gave them back, about late-night drives in his shitty car with the windows down and his hand resting easy on her thigh. About shared fries and stolen bites, inside jokes whispered in the dark, the way he used to look at her like she was something rare, something worth holding onto.
She thinks about the habits they built without trying. How he’d text home safe? every time she’d leave on her bike at night. How he hated mornings unless she was there, hair in his face, legs hooked around his waist. How she knew exactly how he takes his coffee and exactly how to calm him down when he spiraled.
She thinks about their dates that were nothing fancy, mostly. Gas station snacks and cheap beer, sitting on the hood of his car counting stars, sharing secrets and dreams and regrets. Movie nights that turned into talking until dawn, the conversation flowing, their banter more playful than it once was.
She’s reminded of the way his laugh used to feel like a reward, like she’d won something just by hearing it. Of fights that always ended with fire in their eyes, messy kisses turning into mind-blowing sex, her riding him until there were tears in his eyes, him throwing her on her back and thrusting deep inside of her, hooking her legs on his shoulders like he couldn’t get close enough.
They’d been together about five months when the conversations shifted, when things started to feel heavier, more real. Talks about plans and promises followed: leaving LA behind, buying a house, building a family of their own. They imagined places tucked into the mountains, lakes cold enough to dive into, dogs waiting at the door when they came home.
Robert began deliberately taking unfamiliar routes more often, detouring through quiet neighborhoods. He’d slow the car, nod toward a house and murmur, Do you like this one? or What do you think about fireplaces?, those questions filling the space between them more and more.
Even then, Courtney understood what it meant. She knew how much it mattered to him— Robert, who’d never really known what a happy home looked like, quietly trying to imagine one for the first time. With her.
But then she thinks about the end. About silence where there used to be certainty. About unanswered calls, and the choices he made, even when they meant not choosing her.
About how loving him hadn’t been enough to keep him.
Courtney presses her lips together, eyes burning.
“No,” she says, final. Her voice only grows steadier as she continues. “Fuck, I thought we’d go everywhere together. We said I’d finish college, that we’d save up. I worked stupid shifts at the music store, and we had this stupid map— and I’d laugh at him because he’d circle these random places no one’s ever heard of. He said we’d buy a house there. Get a fucking dog.”
Her voice cracks, then hardens. “If I move to Detroit with him, we’re just starting a life that’s going to be dictated by the fucking ghost of his dad.”
Mandy looks sad as she listens, her thumb tracing absent shapes over the back of Courtney’s hand and she nods like she understands.
“Because he will succeed,” Courtney says, the words tumbling out. “He’ll help them do God knows what with those augments, and he’ll be great at it because he’s great at fucking everything.” She ignores the sting of pride that sneaks in with the thought. “And then it won’t be enough. Connors will guilt-trip him into doing more and more until he’s Mecha Man full-time and Robert doesn’t exist anymore.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide at the future unfolding in her head. “We won’t get a dog, because his ass will never be home and I’m not taking care of it alone. I’ll be stuck at home washing blood out of his fucking suit, with, like, six kids who all look like a husband I never see, because he’s everywhere and nowhere at once trying to save the fucking world.”
Her voice cracks, rushing faster, flickering again from the lack of air. “And that’s if he even marries me, which doesn’t feel very likely now—”
She’s cut off when Mandy cups her face, palms pressing into her cheeks and squishing them slightly as she stares at her, worry written all over her face. “Jeez, Court. Take a breath.”
Courtney lets out a shaky exhale and tries to smile but it twists into more of a grimace. “So,” she says lightly, forcing a joke, “what’s been happening with you?”
--
The rest of the staff trickles in. Alice parks her car dangerously close to Chad’s new, shiny Camaro, cackling as she flips him off while he snarls about his paintwork, only for the two of them to end up hugging anyway.
Malevola and Victor arrive through a portal like they always do, Bruno’s massive frame stepping out behind them, carrying both his own bags and Courtney’s, grinning like it’s Christmas morning. New faces blend with old ones, just like every year. Courtney scowls when Evan passes by, the look he gives her dredging up memories of torn collars and dark bruises.
There’s no sign of a beat-up blue Honda Civic.
Eleven rolls around and everyone crowds into Chase’s office cabin. He’s already seated behind his desk, looking exhausted already as he watches them file in, taking up far too much space. Courtney manages to wedge herself onto the old sofa between Chad and Malevola.
The door opens at the last second.
She looks up to see Victor slipping in with a guilty smile, another boy behind him.
Robert.
Courtney meets Mandy’s wary gaze from across the room and sinks deeper into the couch cushions. The soft smile Victor sends her as he passes tells her everything.
He knows too.
The two boys take seats across the room, perching on the windowsill. Robert doesn’t look at her, doesn’t look anywhere but at Chase. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets and he looks as exhausted as she feels.
The room shifts uncomfortably. Z-Teamers glance between her and Robert, then back again, each of them silently wondering why they aren’t sitting together. The camp group chat knows—everyone knows—they’ve been dating since last summer, courtesy of Courtney’s relentless habit of publicly teasing her boyfriend.
Ex-boyfriend.
Fuck.
Even Chase is frowning now, clipboard hugged to his chest as he peers at her over his glasses. Courtney scowls back, then looks away.
“Okay, welcome back, glad to see some of you have managed to avoid jail time for another summer. Congrats.” He finally says. “You all know the drill by now, so let’s get into it.”
It goes the way it always does. Mandy reads off familiar names, assigns people back to their usual stations, reminds everyone to hand in updated first-aid certificates, and reiterates—again—that staff uniform is mandatory, not a matter of opinion.
“Evan, lifeguard duties. Bruno, kitchen. Chad, sports. Victor—” she pauses, eyeing him curiously, “whatever it is you’re doing with that thing.”
“Alice,” Mandy says, handing her a stack of sign-up sheets. “You’re still on music. We’ve moved you to a bigger cabin this year as we have way more sign-ups than expected. Keep up the good work.”
Alice beams, her smile so bright it lights up the room. Courtney can’t help but smile too when Chad catches her eye and gives her a proud wink.
“Courtney, Robert, you’re both on games—” Chase begins.
“Can I be placed somewhere else?” Robert cuts in. His voice is rough, like he hasn’t used it in a while. The words seem to spill out before he can stop them, and Courtney’s heart tightens painfully in her chest.
The room goes still. Everyone turns to look at him.
Courtney’s gaze meets Robert’s. She sees the flicker of hurt there, mirroring her own, before his brown eyes harden and his jaw tightens. He stares at Chase, locked in some silent exchange only the two of them seem to be having.
The older man looks confused for a second, scanning the list like he’s checking whether that’s even an option. The fact that Robert clearly hasn’t said anything about the breakup makes a small, stupid bit of hope stir in her stomach.
“These assignments were set weeks ago, kid,” Chase says. “We’re not rearranging everything over a lovers’ tiff. We’re all adults here—”
“Actually,” Mandy cuts in easily, her gaze flicking between Courtney and Robert. Courtney looks away, biting at the inside of her cheek. “We could use an extra person down at the lake this year. We’re expecting more kids. You’ve done lifeguard duty before, right?”
Courtney blinks when she realizes Mandy’s talking to her. Her eyes flick to Evan, then back. She frowns.
What is she doing?
Still, she nods.
Mandy gives her a quick look from across the room, like a quiet check-in. “Your first aid’s up to date? CPR?” she asks, like this is no big deal at all.
The room goes oddly quiet.
“Yeah,” Courtney says.
Next to her, Victor swears.
“Great!” Mandy says, way too cheerfully, tapping her pen against the clipboard. “Congrats, Evan, you’ve got a buddy for the summer.”
The drop in Courtney’s stomach is immediate and awful. Evan just grins, flashing white teeth as he makes a whole show of winking at her. She scowls and flips him off without hesitation, deliberately ignoring the look Alice shoots her or the way Robert stares anywhere but at her, his fingers clenched tight around the edge of the windowsill.
Everyone filters back out into the sunlight, grabbing fresh staff shirts and sets of keys—for the gym, the music room, the storage cabins, the equipment cages. She’s almost clear when Chase lifts a hand, stopping her short and jerking his chin toward the couch.
She’s halfway to flipping him off when she realizes he’s motioning for Robert too. He crosses the room and sits on the far end of the couch. Courtney scoffs but follows suit, dropping onto the opposite cushion.
The jar is still sitting on Chase’s desk, layers of sticky notes slapped over one another—everything from kayak money to therapy cash, the latest a half-scratched note from Chad that reads lovebird fundz. Chase leans back against the desk, already looking bone-tired. He exhales, rubbing at his forehead before pointing pointedly at the empty space between them.
“Listen,” he says, “I don’t make a habit of getting into my employees’ personal lives. I don’t need to know what the fuck happened, but—” He trails off with another sigh, throwing Robert a look heavy with disapproval.
For what, she’s not sure. For dating her only to break things off, straining their weird brothers-but-not-really dynamic for nothing?
“All I need to know,” Chase continues, “is that when the job calls for it, you two can work together like professionals. No funny business. No arguing. No fighting. And no breaking any more of my goddamn kayaks.”
None of them speak. Robert’s gaze stays fixed on a loose thread fraying from the arm of the couch, his expression carefully blank, almost bored. Courtney keeps her eyes on the wall instead, arms folded tight across her chest.
“Good.” Chase nods, apparently satisfied. “Then get going. Get settled, all that.” His eyes flick deliberately to the empty jar on his desk, a fresh strip of tape stuck to the front, still waiting for a label. “I don’t want to hear about any trouble.”
Less than thirty seconds later, they’re back outside. Courtney scowls as Robert takes off in long, purposeful strides, clearly trying to put as much distance between them as possible. She curls her hands into fists and stalks after him, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him around. She barely avoids crashing into him when he stops short.
“So that’s how it is now?” she snaps, anger flaring hot and fast. “You’re just gonna act like I don’t exist?”
She pointedly ignores Chad, Alice, and Bruno lingering off to the side—waiting, watching, pretending they can’t hear a damn thing.
Robert’s eyes are pure fire when he looks down at her, his scowl cutting just as deep. “Really?” he snaps. “Lake duties? A whole summer with Evan?” His laugh is short and bitter. “That’s how you wanna play this?”
She fires back without missing a beat, that familiar fuse igniting in her chest. Her eyes flash as she squares up to him, toe to toe, shoving down the sting of knowing this fight won’t be like their other ones, won’t end with mind-blowing sex and whispered confessions of love.
“Fucking grow up, Robert,” she spits. “You’re the one who asked not to be paired with me. What’s that about, huh? Afraid you might have to spend time with me? You’re a fucking coward.”
The words taste nasty as they leave her mouth— metallic, sharp, wrapped in invisible armor. They’re meant to protect her. They’re meant to hurt him. They do the second far better than the first. Robert’s jaw tightens as he stares at her, fury barely containing something much worse.
Why didn’t you try to call again? she wants to scream. Why didn’t you change your mind? Why didn’t you choose me?
“I have to grow up?” he scoffs. “That’s rich, Visi. You’re not even gonna try to be civil about this? Pretend we can go back to being friends?”
She almost laughs. The poison on her tongue is sharp and barbed, coating every word. Courtney doesn’t know how to protect her heart without being cruel and God, she hopes he understands that. She hopes he knows that this is her bleeding. “Yeah,” she says coldly. “Like we were ever friends before.”
Robert lets out a humorless scoff. “You’re right,” he mutters. “We weren’t. We’ve never been.”
He steps back, his gaze sweeping over her out of pure instinct, like he can’t help himself even now.
“Have fun with him, Visi. Enjoy your summer.” he says, already turning away. She swears she sees wetness in his eyes. “I’m sure he’ll love having you around.”
Courtney watches Victor press a quick kiss to Malevola’s cheek before hopping down from the railing to follow him, the two of them heading toward the lake. The bat boy glances back once, shooting her a regretful look over his shoulder.
The rest of her friends drift closer as Courtney focuses on steadying her breathing. A familiar pain catches between her ribs—an ache that’s been lodged there for weeks now. It coils around her heart like weeds, thorned vines tightening their grip until her throat burns with the urge to cry.
She sniffs, blinking hard, refusing to let the tears fall.
A hand settles gently between her shoulder blades. She looks up to find Malevola offering her a soft, sympathetic smile.
“I’ve got a couple bottles of vodka hidden in my trunk,” Alice says beside her. “Why don’t we grab them and get a little party going?”
Courtney nods, swiping at her nose with the back of her arm, putting real effort into not looking after the retreating figures. Especially not Robert’s, whose shoulders are slumped as he kicks at a rock in his path.