He sighs. “What are you sorry about? This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, but . . . I’m still sorry.”

“Piper!” my dad calls again. He begins marching back toward the parking lot, expecting me to follow.

“Come on, I’ll walk you.” Kyle takes a step forward.

I hesitate. “There? To him?”

He shrugs. “What’s he going to do, hit me?”

I grab my sleeping bag and pillow, and together we trudge across the front lawn. How long ago it seems now, that early summer day when Mom dropped me off here, reluctant and bitter.

Now I would do anything to stay. Anything to see Eric running around—naked or otherwise. Anything to be curled up in bed next to Kyle right now, where I should be.

Why did we have to be so stupid?

Darian is waiting for us where she met my father. Her face is drawn and tight. “Piper, can I talk to you for a minute?” she asks. “Alone?”

Kyle unloads my sleeping bag from my arms and continues on, my anxiety rising with each step that he takes toward the SUV.

Darian hands me an envelope. “This covers your pay up until this morning.”

“Thanks.” My gaze falls to my running shoes. “I’m sorry.”

She sighs heavily. “No . . . I’m sorry. Kyle and Eric were always a handful. I was naïve enough to think I could handle them. I shouldn’t have allowed them back this year. Or I should have gotten rid of them after the first incident. If I had, Eric wouldn’t be lying in a hospital room.”

As much as I wish the same for Eric, I’m glad she let them come back—I can’t imagine not knowing Kyle, not having these memories—but I don’t voice that.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“I haven’t talked to his parents yet. They’re still on their way from Erie. It’s quite a drive. But he was conscious, which is a good sign.” Her eyes drift over to the parking lot. “Your father. He’s a tough one, isn’t he?”

“Especially when he’s angry.” And he is facing off with Kyle now. Oh God. “I should go—”

“I’m not that much older than you guys. I remember what it was like to be young and in love. You can’t think of anything else. Nothing else matters. It’s all-consuming.” She smiles sadly. “And it feels like a part of you dies when you’ve lost it, a part you’ll never get back. But you will.”

I frown, wondering what she’s getting at. I haven’t lost Kyle. Sure, we’ll be three hours away from each other, but we’ll make it work.

I’ll make it work.

“I really wish this had gone a different way, Piper. I’m . . . very disappointed. You are a good counselor. I would have liked to have seen you here again next year.”

“I would have liked to have come.”

“I hope, if nothing else, you’ve learned from this.” She hesitates, but then wraps her arms around me. “Take care of yourself. And make better choices. That could have been you tumbling down those rocks.”

With that, I rush toward Kyle and my father. By the time I reach them, Kyle’s face is ghostly white and pained.

“Let’s go,” my dad commands. “It’ll be almost four A.M. by the time we get home.”

“I need a few minutes—”

“Piper.”

“Just a few minutes!” My voice cracks as I bark back, setting my jaw with defiance, though I tack on a “Please.”

His lips are a thin line. “I’ll take those.” He holds his hands out, staring intently at Kyle.

Kyle hands him my things, which he promptly passes to Eddie.

“You have two minutes to say goodbye.” He climbs into the SUV.

I grasp Kyle’s hands. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” Kyle smiles, but I know it’s forced.

“Here.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out the stack of paychecks. “I signed all of them over to you.”

He’s already shaking his head. “No, I can’t—”

“Take it! Please. I don’t need it and you just lost a week of pay. Plus, this way you can afford to call me and come visit.”

His jaw clenches as he gently pushes my hand away. “I can’t, Piper. Thank you, though.”

This is it. I throw my arms around Kyle’s neck, my eyes watering again, panic seizing my insides. “I don’t want to leave you,” I whisper.

His arms tighten around my waist, squeezing me.

I pull away, just enough to press my lips against his, ever conscious of my father’s gaze from the backseat.

Kyle hesitates at first, but then he’s the one deepening the kiss.

“I love you so much,” I whisper against his mouth, crying now.

He blinks away a sheen in his own eyes. “I love you, too, Piper. Always. Remember that.”

“You’ll call me tomorrow, as soon as you get home?”

His jaw grows taut and he swallows, his gaze flittering to the dark window, to the unseen face looming behind.

“Yeah. Here.” He slips off the leather bracelet from his wrist. “To remind you of me.”

“As if I could ever forget you.” I laugh through my tears. I search my body, coming up empty. “I wish I had something to give you.”

“I don’t need anything.” He smiles sadly and taps his temple. “It’s all up here.”

With one last kiss, he breaks free and begins walking away, his head hanging low.

Not until I’m seated and we’re rolling down the driveway, my thumb rubbing back and forth over the grain of the leather, do I get the eerie sense that that felt like a final goodbye.

I’m staring at the plate in front of me—at the massacred slice of toast, shredded to pieces, none of them eaten—when my father swoops into the kitchen, his navy suit looking fresh and crisp, coffee mug in hand. It’s Monday morning, at eleven. He should have been at work four hours ago.

“Your mother is on her way back from Paris. She’ll be home in a few hours,” he announces. It’s the first thing he’s said to me since the drive home from Wawa, early yesterday morning. After he told me I can forget about my car for a year, as well as my credit card.

“Did she sound upset that she and Aunt Jackie had to end their vacation early?”

“Is that who she told you she’s with?” Dad’s jaw tightens. “No. She and . . . Aunt Jackie know it’s time they came home.” His voice is dripping with bitterness.

“Have you been able to find out anything about Eric?” I ask, pleading in my voice. Ashley and I have been texting back and forth, but there’s no news between the two of us. I emailed Christa yesterday, to see if she’d heard. Being lead counselor, she has more access to the office computer than any other counselors there. Plus, she’s the only email address I have besides the Camp Wawa administrative in-box that I used for employment paperwork.

She has no news on him, either.

So, I asked my father yesterday if he could find something out. He always has his ways. He didn’t acknowledge my request with anything more than a glare.

Dad chugs the rest of his coffee and then sets the porcelain mug on the counter. “The boy’s leg and arm are badly broken and he hit his head a few times, but they’re saying he’ll pull through.”