“Good morning, Miss Callow—”

“Please meet me on the eleventh floor, in conference room C, at ten A.M.”

Something unreadable flashes in his eyes—resignation, maybe?—and there’s a few seconds’ pause before his golden gaze shifts to Gus. “Is that okay?”

“No problems here.” Gus holds his hands up. “What the boss lady says, we do. Gladly.”

Kyle sighs heavily and then nods once. “Okay,” he mumbles, reluctance in his tone. “I’ll see you later.”

“Ten A.M. sharp. Eleven C,” I repeat. “You know where it is; you’ve been pacing past it enough times.” With that, I wave my badge and head to my office, trying to ignore the rush of nerves churning in my stomach.

Mark’s eyes are on me the second I step into the executive wing, his brows raised in curiosity. No doubt because of the email I sent him last night, asking that he be in as early as possible, seven A.M. at the latest. I’ve never asked that of him.

I’m not in the mood for exchanging pleasantries right now. “I need you to find out everything you can on Hank Kavanaugh from KDZ. Where he lives, who he’s married to, where he went to school, their construction projects, everything. I want to know how Tripp knows him, and every meeting they’ve had. See what Jill can tell you. On the down-low, of course.”

Mark eagerly jots down notes, his mouth working over questions he’s dying to ask but knows better than to, just yet. Finally, he dares murmur, “So you have a plan?”

“Oh, I have a plan.” I can feel the vicious and defiant smile stretch across my lips. “We’re going to lance a giant boil.”

Chapter 12

THEN

2006, Camp Wawa, Week One

“He’s, like, in love with you!”

“Oh my God, no he isn’t!” My cheeks burn even as I grin, my eyes darting around us, making sure no one else heard Ashley’s enthusiastic hiss. Thankfully everyone’s attention seems to be on the screen ahead or on their nearby friends’ giggles, or on stretching their sleeping bags out on the grass as they prepare for The Parent Trap. Night Four of camp is “movie night” every week—barring rain—and I’ll admit, the sea of small, squirming bodies over the soccer field is impressive.

The image from the projector flickers a few times before it finally fills the screen, and the opening score blares through the speakers and carries through the calm, warm night air.

“Please. His eyes are, like, glued to you.” She drops her voice. “Did you two hook up last night?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I can’t stifle my wide grin fast enough.

“I knew it!” Ashley starts giggling hysterically. “What was it like?”

“We just kissed. That’s all.” That’s a lie. There’s nothing “just” about kissing Kyle, I’ve decided. My lips were still puffy when I woke this morning, with a content sigh despite the early hour and lack of sleep, and the sound of Christa’s voice, urging everyone on their feet.

I’ve been on a high all day, my body humming with life and expectation every time I catch a glimpse of him. Nothing has been able to dampen my mood—not the sight of Izzy’s bloody knee when she tripped over a log, not the icy temperature of the lake when we went swimming, not the overdone and unappealing fish sticks that landed on my plate for dinner.

“You’re coming out tonight, right?” Ashley asks.

“Of course.” I’ve been anxiously counting down the hours since my eyes cracked open.

“Wear your bathing suit. We’re going night swimming.”

I shudder.

“It’ll be fun. Trust me.” She adds in a coy voice, “I’m sure Kyle will be going.”

My gaze wanders over to where he sits, ten feet away, behind his campers. He’s laughing at Eric, who’s furiously brushing his hands through his blond curls.

“Glitter,” Ashley explains with a giggle. “The kids must have stolen it from the arts tub and played a joke on Eric. That or Kyle did it. They’re such jerks to each other sometimes.”

Midway through a laugh, Kyle turns my way and I feel the shy smile curl my lips, memories of his mouth against mine still firmly emblazoned in my mind.

“See? He can’t keep his eyes off you! You’re like a magnet.”

“Stop!” I elbow her, but I’m grinning.

Kyle seems to pick up on the gist of our conversation because he reaches into a bowl of popcorn and tosses a kernel at us. It misses us entirely, pinning Christa in the head.

The soft strum of a guitar and laughter carries and the day’s warmth lingers in the air as Ashley and I approach the lake, our bathing suits on beneath our clothes. My campers were asleep before hers, leaving me to pace around the girls’ restroom, waiting for her to arrive. Christa didn’t say a word when I clambered down the steps and grabbed my things.

The way things are going, I doubt we’ll ever see eye-to-eye on anything.

People are already in the water, trading splashes, though it’s too dark to identify anything beyond a few silhouettes.

Someone has carried a metal firepit down and settled it in the sand. Flames now dance within it, toasting the marshmallows held close while illuminating the circle of faces that surrounds it. Avery and Maria sit on either side of Colin, seemingly lulled by his throaty voice as he sings the chorus to “Wonderwall” by Oasis.

“You guys coming in?” Eric calls out from somewhere in the lake. I can only assume Kyle is somewhere out there, too.

Ashley kicks off her sandals and drags her toes through the shoreline.

“It’s amazing. Get in here, Freckles!”

She sheds her clothes where she stands, earning a loud whistle of approval as she adjusts her green bikini bottoms. Wawa has a one-piece-only rule for swimming attire, one of the few dress code rules that Darian makes sure everyone adheres to. “Coming, Piper?”

I follow suit, a swirl of nervousness and excitement stirring in the pit of my stomach as I reveal my own prohibited two-piece—a simple but elegant black bikini that my friend Reid swears makes my breasts look twice as big.

I grit my teeth as we slowly wade in, though the temperature is more bearable now than it was earlier today, the contrast to the air less dramatic.