Chapter 76
Summer's POV
A few other boys agreed to join, but most of the group dispersed back to their cabins. I watched Kieran follow Mrs. Walker toward the trail, his tall frame disappearing into the darkening woods, and felt a pang of something I couldn't quite name. Worry, maybe. Or longing. The same feeling I'd had watching him leave after he'd checked on my failed fire.
"Come on," Mia said, linking her arm through mine. "Let's go warm up by the fireplace before the next activity."
I let her pull me toward the lodge, but I couldn't stop glancing back at the trail, wondering if Kieran would actually catch anything, if he'd be okay out there in the cold and dark.
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An hour later, I was sitting on my bunk writing in my journal when Zoe burst into the cabin, breathless with excitement.
"You guys, some of the boys actually caught fish! They're grilling them by the fire pit right now!"
My pen stilled. "Who caught them?"
"I don't know, like four guys? Kieran got two, I think, and—oh, Tyler."
I was on my feet before I'd consciously decided to move, shoving my journal under my pillow and grabbing my jacket. Mia raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, just smiled in that knowing way that made me both grateful and embarrassed.
Outside, the temperature had dropped even further, my breath misting in the air. I followed the glow of firelight to the main pit, where a small crowd had gathered to watch the boys clean and prepare their catches.
And there was Kieran, crouched by the fire with two brook trout laid out on a flat stone. His hands moved with surprising efficiency despite the cold, his left hand compensating for his right's limitations as he worked. Someone had lent him a filleting knife, and he wielded it with the same precise focus he brought to physics problems.
Tyler stood nearby with his own fish, bragging loudly about his superior fishing skills. But I barely heard him. I was too busy watching Kieran's profile in the firelight, the way shadows played across his sharp features, the careful concentration in his eyes.
He finished cleaning the first fish and set it aside, then reached for the second. That's when he looked up and saw me standing at the edge of the crowd.
Our eyes met. His hands stilled on the knife.
For a moment neither of us moved, caught in that strange suspension that seemed to happen whenever we looked at each other too directly. Then Kieran stood, wiping his hands on his jeans, and walked over to where I stood.
"Hey," he said quietly.
"Hey." My voice came out breathier than intended. "I heard you caught something."
He glanced back at the fish, then at me. "Yeah. Two."
"That's amazing."
His ears went red. "It's just fish."
"Still." I hugged my jacket tighter, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was standing, how the firelight made his eyes look almost warm. "I'm impressed."
He ducked his head, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment. Then, to my complete surprise, he reached down and picked up the larger of the two fish, holding it out to me.
"Here," he said. "For you."
I stared at the fish, then at him. "What?"
"For you," he repeated, his expression serious. "You worked hard on that fire earlier. You should have something good for dinner."
My throat went tight. Around us, I could feel other students watching, whispering. Ashley and Zoe had materialized nearby, their expressions ranging from shocked to gleeful. But I couldn't focus on any of that. All I could see was Kieran standing there with a fish in his outstretched hands, offering me something he'd worked for, something that mattered in this strange wilderness context where food and warmth were suddenly precious.
"Thank you," I managed, taking the fish carefully. It was still cool from the stream, its scales catching the firelight. "I don't—I've never cleaned a fish before."
Something flickered in his eyes. Not pity, exactly. More like understanding. "I can show you."
He led me to a quieter spot near the water station, away from the crowd's curious stares. The fish felt slippery and alive in my hands, even though it was clearly dead. I tried to hold it the way Kieran had, but it kept sliding through my fingers.
"Like this," he said, his voice low and patient. He demonstrated with his own fish, showing me how to grip it firmly behind the gills. "Don't be afraid of it. It can't hurt you now."
I tried again, my hands shaking slightly. The fish's scales felt strange against my palms, cold and slightly rough. When it twitched—just a residual muscle spasm, I knew logically—I nearly dropped it.
"It's still moving," I whispered, embarrassed by my squeamishness. "I don't know what to do."
Kieran set down his own fish and stepped closer, close enough that I could feel warmth radiating from his body despite the cold air. "Turn around."
I hesitated, confused. "What?"
"Turn around," he repeated, gentler this time. "I'll do it. You don't have to watch."
Relief flooded through me, mixed with shame at my own incompetence. But I did as he asked, turning my back to the water station while he took the fish from my trembling hands.
Behind me, I heard the soft splash of water, the scraping sound of his knife against scales, his controlled breathing as he worked. The whole process took maybe two minutes, but it felt longer, standing there in the dark with my back to him, trusting him to handle something I couldn't.
"All set," he said finally. "You can turn around now."
I did. The fish lay on the stone, perfectly cleaned and gutted, ready to grill. Kieran's hands were wet and slightly red from the cold water, a few small cuts visible on his knuckles. But he didn't seem to notice or care.
"Thank you," I said again, meaning it more than I could express. "I'm sorry I couldn't—"
"Don't." He cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. "There's nothing to apologize for."
Our eyes met again, held. In the firelight his face looked softer than usual, less guarded. I wanted to say something more, to explain why this simple act of cleaning a fish for me felt like the kindest thing anyone had ever done. But words felt inadequate, so I just stood there, holding his gaze, hoping he could read in my expression what I couldn't say out loud.
"You should grill it," he said finally, breaking the moment. "Before it gets too late."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. He walked with me back to the fire pit, where Mrs. Walker helped me set up a makeshift grill. As the fish cooked, filling the air with a surprisingly pleasant smell, I was acutely aware of Kieran standing nearby, watching to make sure I didn't burn it.