I turn to look at Ashley. She stands there, petrified, her lips pursed together.

Eric reappears. “This is all I could find,” he mutters, holding a bag of frozen peas.

“No!” Darian’s face pinches with annoyance. “We need those for dinner.”

“Ugh. Really. Peas?” Eric grimaces.

“Did you check the freezer in the back?”

“No. But this will work, won’t it?”

“No, it’s our food, Eric!” They begin bickering.

It gives me a moment to turn to Kyle. “You are not taking the fall for this.”

“Yeah, I am,” he murmurs under his breath. “This is my fault. None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for me.”

“No! I’m not—”

“I know how to deal with Darian. Just shut up and let me, okay?” He slips his fingers into mine, to squeeze them once.

“Go and put those peas back before they spoil.” Darian points toward the kitchen.

Eric drags his feet back inside.

“You two—” She gestures at Ashley and me. “Get back to your cabins right now. You, a word.” Her eyes narrow at Kyle.

“Go. I’ll take care of this,” he whispers, giving the small of my back a gentle push.

“Now!” Darian yells.

We scurry away, leaving Kyle and Darian to face off.

“I warned you about keeping your nose clean this year, Kyle,” I hear her say.

He dips his head. “You did.”

“You know what this means. You know I can’t allow counselors who behave like this to stay. And dragging those girls into it? I know this was not their idea.”

“We are so stupid,” I mutter, my feet moving slowly as I watch the exchange—seeing Kyle’s head hanging and Darian’s hands waving dramatically, her head shaking furiously—over my shoulder.

“They don’t think when they get together,” Ashley whispers.

“No, all of us!” I’m stupid. I should have known better. I know Kyle’s situation. If she fires him, he’ll have to go back to that cockroach-infested hole. Unlike me, he really needs this job. Why would he risk all that? “We can’t let Kyle take the blame, Ashley.”

“Maybe she’ll cool down and we can talk to her tomorrow? Darian always gives those two a pass.”

“I’m not so sure it’s going to happen this time.” I pause behind a hedge to watch the rest unfold.

Eric comes out with what appears to be an appropriate ice pack against his wrist. Darian’s hands are on her hips as she lectures them some more. Both of them tip their heads back. They’re saying something, but she just keeps shaking her head.

No, no, no . . . it’s saying.

Finally, she waves them away, toward the boys’ cabins.

They look at each other once before they walk away, dragging their feet. Kyle’s hands are locked together against the back of his neck.

Darian takes a seat at the nearby picnic table and braces her forehead in her hands. Her body language oozes resignation.

What if Kyle has finally run out of passes?

Dread fills me. I can’t imagine the summer here without him. I won’t last a day.

“Are you coming?” Ashley whispers.

“I’ll catch up.” I double back.

Darian turns to regard me when I’m about ten feet out, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes. Even in the poor lighting, she looks exhausted. “Piper, I told you to go back—”

“It wasn’t Kyle and Eric driving. It was Ashley and me,” I blurt out. Sorry, Ashley. “And I’m the one who put the cart into the water, because I was racing Ashley and going too fast.”

Darian sighs. “And you two came up with the idea to race golf carts all on your own?”

“Yes.”

I get a knowing glare in return. She doesn’t believe that for a second.

“Please don’t fire them.”

“Kyle and Eric took those carts out, knowing that they were explicitly told not to. More than once.”

I shake my head firmly. “No, I took them. So punish me.”

Her eyebrows arch. “You took both of them?”

I make a sound of agreement, dropping my gaze to my shoes.

“You’re willing to take all the responsibility from those two hooligans?”

Three, technically, if you count Ashley. “Yes.” Because the truth is, me losing this job won’t affect my future. It won’t deprive me of spending money next year. It won’t limit my college application or future career. All it’ll do is bruise my ego. And my parents’. I’m not sure who it would hurt more—my nostalgic mother or my prideful father.

“I’ll pay for the damages. It won’t cost the camp a thing, I promise.” My stomach tightens at the prospect of that phone call with my mother. “Please don’t fire them,” I ask again, in a more pleading tone.

“I don’t want to. Losing counselors the first week of camp throws everything off.” She drags her fingers over the picnic table. “Get to your cabin.”

I bite my bottom lip, hesitating. “So, you’re not going to fire them?”

“I don’t know. I need to give this some thought. I will let you guys know tomorrow morning. Now go on.”

I trudge back through the dark, quiet campground, preparing myself for a sleepless night, but holding on to hope.

Chapter 13

NOW

My left heel wobbles a touch as I step out of the elevator. I’m two minutes early and Kyle is already in the meeting room, seated and waiting, his back to me, his attention on his phone.

For just a moment, I lose my nerve and reach back to hold the elevator door. For just a moment, I tell myself this is crazy and that I need to let go and move on before I humiliate myself further.

I don’t know the cool, reserved man sitting in that room; I only know the wild boy he used to be.

But then that familiar thrill stirs in my stomach, the one that Kyle has always stirred inside me like no one else—not even David in our early days. And I can’t dismiss that.

Taking a deep breath, I push through the glass door.

Kyle doesn’t shift or turn; he waits until I’m towering over him to peer up at me. His golden eyes are wary and resigned. That gaze flickers down, over my slate-blue silk blouse—the collar plunging but not unprofessionally so—and then back up. It’s a quick look, but I don’t miss it.

“Is this about that Tripp guy?” he finally asks.

I settle into the chair across from him, putting us at equal level. “No.”

He nods slowly, as if he knows what I’m going to ask. I’m guessing he heard my question yesterday, after all. He chose to pretend he didn’t.

Do I go in hard or do I try a more subtle approach?

His eyes trail my hands as I clasp them on the table.

“How is everything?”

The smallest smirk touches his lips. “No complaints.”

“Are you liking things here so far?”

“Yes.”

“And you like Lennox?”

“Yes.” He’s answering as if he’s being questioned in an interrogation. And maybe that’s what this is.