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“You feeling okay about this?” asks my dad as we unload his giant cooler from the trunk and walk it to the side of the barn.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you put your heart and soul into the original mural. It meant a lot to you kids. Change is hard.”
“Change can be good, too.”
He grunts, knowing as well as I do that change and I aren’t friends. Avoiding his stare, I flip the cooler lid and start packing in sodas. Damien drops a bag of ice beside me.
“Thanks, kiddo.”
My almost-teenager issues an intelligible grunt and heads back to the car. I smirk to myself, thinking about the text from Zoey this morning informing they had a last-minute change of plans and will, in fact, be bringing Daphne to the event. I forgot to tell Damien, but I’m secretly glad I did. It’ll be fun watching how swiftly his mood changes.
“Things are really shaping up out here,” notes my dad.
Thankful for the shift in topic, I sit back on my heels and follow his gaze around the camp. Billy has done absolutely incredible work at superhuman speeds. I can hardly believe it’s only been a week since his team started. The volleyball and basketball courts are finished. The additional bathrooms are framed. The dining hall porch is done, the roof issues repaired, and the foundation for the new music cabin is laid.
“It’s surreal,” I say, unable to help the grin that spreads on my face.
“What is?” asks a voice that sends a powerful shiver down my spine and causes my heart to skip a beat. I glance over my shoulder, my brain absorbing details faster than my eyes. Messy dark blond hair. Unshaven face. Worn jeans. Navy blue T-shirt with a faded band logo on it. He looks tired, his smile more polite than genuine.
“Hey, there, son,” says my dad, breaking the awkward silence to give Lucas a back-pounding hug. “How’s your mom?”
Leave it to my dad to pull off the proverbial Band-Aid.
“Safely ensconced in the best private treatment center in Boise.”
“Glad to hear it,” my dad says gently.
My chest deflates with relief. Standing, I take an uncertain step toward Lucas. “Good. That’s so good. Are you—how are you?”
Lucas nods, his eyes briefly meeting mine. “I’m okay. Can I talk to you for a minute in private?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve got the cooler,” says my dad.
“Thanks.” Lucas smiles; still not the regular wattage, but better. “I won’t keep her long.” He meets my probing stare. “Lake?”
I nod, and we walk side by side toward the glittering blue expanse. As the silence stretches, I start to have a queer, tingling feeling of dread. The feeling grows and grows until my palms start sweating.
When we’re standing side by side on the shore, not far from the pile of decaying wood that used to be the dock, Lucas clears his throat.
“I think you were right.”
My dread intensifies. “Right about what?”
“About us.” He takes a deep breath, and I feel like he’s sucking the oxygen straight from my lungs. “I know I agreed with you on Wednesday, but it was disingenuous. I hadn’t really processed what you said to me.”
“What did I say to you?” I whisper.
He gives me a wry look. “You remember.”
I straighten my spine, gathering courage around me like a tattered cloak. “I think I said that I wasn’t ready to be in a relationship with you, but that I care about you a lot. I also said I didn’t think things had to change.”
He nods. “You did say that. The part I’m agreeing with, though, is the first bit. I hear you. As much as it goes against every instinct I have, I’m not going to pressure you into being with me.”
“You didn’t?—”
