I don’t know what to say to that. So I just sit there. Let it settle between us like warm air.
Then Jason adds, “You were right, y’know. About me not taking it seriously. I kinda forgot how much this place means to some people.”
“You’re good with them,” I say. “Even if your methods are... confusing.”
He laughs. “I’ll take it.”
We sit in silence for a while. The sun sinks lower. The lake ripples.
Then Jason stands, stretches, and offers me a hand.
“C’mon, counselor. Let’s go reintroduce the beads of trust.”
I stare at his hand. Then take it.
His fingers are calloused and warm.
My heart skips.
Just once.
But I feel it.
CHAPTER 4
JASON
If I had a nickel for every time someone face-planted into a mud puddle at Camp Lightring, I’d have... like, a dollar. Tops. Butthis one?
This one is special.
Because it’s Alice.
Sweet, prim, clipboard-clutching Alice, who was just walking across the fire circle clearing like she owned the world—until her sandal caught on a root and gravity took the wheel.
And now?
Now she’s sitting in the middle of a mud crater like a crime scene, one shoe flung off to God-knows-where, dress splattered, and this expression on her face like her brain just blue-screened.
And what do I do? Do I rush over to help? Offer a towel? Ask if she’s okay?
Hell no.
I laugh.
Loudly.
Like,bend-over, tears-in-my-eyeskind of laugh. I don’t mean to. I swear. But it’s too perfect. She looks like a wet raccoon who just lost her 401k.
“Don’t. Say. A word,” she hisses, struggling to her feet.
Which is hilarious, because Iwasgonna say something helpful, like, “Hey, are you?—”
“I saiddon’t.”
So I shut my mouth.
Mostly.