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“Also on it.”
“Great. Talk soon.”
I hang up before I can say something stupid, like, This is a mistake. I’ve changed my mind.
As I drive beneath the wood-framed entrance of the defunct Camp Wild Lake, nostalgia presses heavily on my chest. The sign still hangs at the central point, the paint faded and peeling. This isn’t the first time I’ve been up here since purchasing the land, but it’s the first time since seeing Celeste again.
Now I’m struggling to see it for what it is—a business investment, cold and simple. Instead, ghostly crowds of children run screaming down the path to the lake. Firelight plays over young faces sticky with marshmallows as counselors tell age-appropriate scary stories.
The mural-covered side of the Art Barn appears through trees on my left. I look away fast, but my gaze snags on another memory in the shape of a small building. The faded yellow paint by the front door is still legible.
Eagle Cabin.
Eagle Cabin was where Jeremy and I were assigned the summer before our senior year as junior camp counselors. We’d snuck out every night after curfew to meet up with Celeste and a few others, then crept back in before midnight bed checks.
Behind the cabin is another visual trigger: a towering Ponderosa Pine. Jeremy and I were standing behind it the night he told me he was in love with Celeste. That he was going to ask her on a date, thereby destroying six years of perfect friendship among the three of us.
He hadn’t known then that I’d already destroyed it.
I park near the Lodge but can’t bring myself to get out of my car. Instead, I answer a slew of emails while I wait for the sound of a semi coming up the hill hauling the trailer where I’ll sleep and work.
If all goes according to plan, in a few weeks, I’ll be surrounded by a hive of activity and construction, and have no time to think about anything, much less the past.
Everything will be demolished, leveled, dug out, to make way for the resort. While a key feature of my proposal to the city council this morning was a plan to feature some of the original wood from the camp buildings—thereby giving a nod to history—this entire venture will accomplish exactly what both Celeste and I want.
To burn Camp Wild Lake to the ground.
6
The rest of the week is filled with familiar routines that slowly but surely nail boards over the black, endless well of my memory. By the time I leave work on Friday afternoon, I almost feel like my normal self. And while I couldn’t escape the rumor mill—everyone and their mother is talking about the camp—there have been no more Lucas sightings in town.
I’m hoping it stays that way. He’ll do his thing, wiping Camp Wild Lake off the map, and I’ll go on pretending like it doesn’t matter.
When I get home from work, I jump in the shower before throwing on fresh jeans and a light sweater. Damien is at his best friend’s house for a sleepover, so I have a rare free night. And since Zoey’s husband, Ethan, is in New York for the weekend, we get to have a long overdue girls’ night out. Not that we have a wild nightlife in Sun River. Far from it. Our plans consist of dinner, then throwing our feet on my coffee table and watching a movie.
At a quarter till seven, I head out to meet Zoey at Bloom, the only Thai food restaurant in town. She’s already there, waving from a booth by the window when I walk in. I veer toward her, skirting around tables. The place is packed, the noise level high.
As I’m closing in on the booth, someone stands from a table to leave. We collide. Strong fingers wrap around my biceps, and my face smooshes against a hard chest. I gasp, my nose filling with a masculine scent that’s as familiar to me as the shape of my child’s face. After all these years, he smells the same.
In an instant, I realize I’ve been lying to myself all week. Even if he leaves town tomorrow and never comes back, his reappearance has been the equivalent of a bomb dropping on my heart and head. I’m going to be picking up debris for years.
“Still don’t pay attention to where you’re walking?”
Lifting my chin, I glare into Lucas’s twinkling eyes. “Still wearing the same cheap cologne you had in high school?”
His lips twitch. “I don’t wear cologne.”
“Then you must take baths in a swamp.”
He laughs, then glances over my shoulder at the booth I was aiming for. His hands drop, leaving my arms tingling. “Hey, Zoey. Long time no see.”
“Lucas,” says Zoey in cool acknowledgment.
His gaze shifts back to me. “I guess that’s my cue. See ya later, Peapod.” He nods and spins on a heel.
“Don’t call me that,” I growl at his retreating back.
He throws a grin over his shoulder. “Never gonna happen.”
