“Did you eat yet?”
I glanced at the buffet of barbecued chicken, corn on the cob, and potato salad that would normally have my stomach rumbling and my mouth watering.
“I’m not hungry. You still down to hang out?”
“Maybe you should grab something to go?”
“I can’t eat right now, Lauren.”
Her frown deepened and she studied me harder. Could she see how nervous I was?
Across the room Tucker watched us like a hawk. He shook his head at me in obvious warning. Anger spiked. Maybe Tucker felt like he was looking out for me, but Lauren was just a friend. A really good friend. Was he jealous?
“Ready for departure?” I asked.
“Sure.”
As Lauren descended the wooden staircase in four seconds, I grunted and followed doing the one-legged hop again. My prosthetic leg landed with a hollow thump on each stair. Part of me shrunk back each time I was reminded of my leg. They said I’d get used to it eventually, to the point where I’d barely notice it, and I honestly thought I had, but being here was doing something to my confidence levels. Hopefully Lauren wasn’t embarrassed by it.
“So, you had your check-in?”
I nodded, scratching my cheek.
“How’d it go?”
“Fine, I guess.”
“Fine, I guess? You’re such a guy.”
“Thanks for noticing.”
A pack of high school boys passing by the two of us split like the Red Sea, and I heard them whispering back and forth about Lauren. I puffed my chest and dropped my brows at them. Even at a Christian camp, high school boys were high school boys, no matter which way you sliced it. I knew. I’d been one once.
Funny. Lauren didn’t seem to notice them at all.
“Details, Carter. Did Pastor Gregg say you’re making progress? Did he give you anything to work on? I mean, if you want to talk about it. If you don’t, I get it. But if you do, I’m here. Sorry, I know I can get pushy. Just tell me if I’m crossing any lines.”
Right. The check-in. I scratched the back of my head, my palms sweating again. “He wants me to go on a memory walk around camp. Said I should pause whenever a memory comes up, see it, feel it, thank God for it, and let it go.”
“Wow. Sounds intense. Think you’ll do it?”
“Yeah. Matter of fact, I was wondering if you’d come?”
“I’ll totally come. When do you want to do it?”
“Stat, if you’re onboard.”
A stray hair danced around her pretty face. The falling sun painted everything around us a vivid shade of gold, making her honey-colored irises glow amber. There was something fierce in her expression and it transferred to my chest, warming parts of my soul I thought had died with Megs.
“Let’s do it. I just need to get my hiking boots.”
I glanced down at her shoes, some cross between a sandal and a sneaker with a three-inch rise on ’em.
“Back to Miss America today, huh?”
She shrugged and headed toward her lodge.
-LAUREN-
“I thought you said you were changing your shoes, not your whole outfit,” Carter said, when I met him outside the lodge.
“What? This is hiking chic.” I tied my flannel shirt around my waist. “And it’s good for secret marshmallow camouflage. Do you know anything about fashion?”
“You got me there, cowgirl.” Carter lifted his hands in mock surrender.
It was nice to see him smile, even chuckle. He’d looked so pale and worried in the cafeteria.
I nodded toward the path. “So, where to first?”
He sighed, scratching his beard as he studied the trail that snaked uphill into the woods, leading to the rec center. He swallowed and looked downhill, past the basketball courts, toward the camp entrance. “Let’s go lakeside first.”
A sheen of sweat coated his forehead and he was breathing hard. Obviously nervous about this camp-walk thing. Why did Pastor Gregg think this was such a good idea anyway?
“What’s the goal of this walk again?”
“Guess it’s supposed to help me with my anxiety about Megs. He said something about helping me move on, but I’m not ready yet.”
“Are you good talking about it?”
“Change of subject would be optimal.”
Optimal. I grinned. “Okay. So, where were you stationed last?”
“Something else.”
His breathing got even louder. Wow. This was way worse than I thought. There had to be a safe topic. Something that wouldn’t remind him.
“So, a camper asked me out the other day.”
“What?”
“Yup. This jock kid came in after lunch with all his little buddies and he was trying way too hard.”
“Really?”
“He kept leaning on the display case, flexing his triceps to show off his fake tattoo.”
“No.”
“So fake! His pickup line was the worst though. Called me a cougar.” I rolled my eyes for extra flare. “It was so sad.”
His mouth hitched at the corners.
Perfect.
We passed the basketball courts, the staff rec room, and the snack shop. Music started up from somewhere in the distance, probably coming from the campers’ evening worship service. A few staffers were outside, laughing and hovering around a board game. As we stepped onto the lake trail, Carter’s stride stiffened, and his eyes scanned every tree and shrub, like we were behind enemy lines and about to be ambushed. “Did you turn him down?”
I frowned. “Who?”
“The jock kid.”
Right. Distractions.
“I mean—like, I love hanging out with fifteen-year-old boys who flirt by lighting up their own farts and everything. But, because of . . . the marshmallow . . . I realized it wouldn’t really work in the end, you know?”
“Sounds wise,” he said softly.
He stopped by a wooden bench, chest heaving as he reached out to run his hand over the sanded edges. He lifted his eyes to the lake, the surface calm and smooth.
I wasn’t sure if I should speak, or not. But his face was so pale, I was afraid he might pass out if I didn’t.
“Is it a memory?”
“This was where we met every day during free time. My friends would come with me, and her friends
