I step inside. The cool, air-conditioned temperature is soothing against my sticky skin.

“Piper . . .” Eric attempts to say as I close the door behind me and take the seat next to his chair, still warm from Ashley occupying it.

It’s hard for me to meet his eyes without succumbing to tears, but I grit my teeth and fight the urge to break down.

He drags his right arm in his lap to tap the iPad screen, which is sitting in a holder.

A page entitled “Piper” on the top appears, with lines that he’s obviously prepared ahead of time.

Been streaking lately? Is the first one.

It’s so unexpected, so Eric, I burst out in laughter, even as a few tears slip out. “No. Not since that night.” I pause. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been here to see you. I didn’t know this had happened. I thought you were fine. I thought you had healed and moved on with your life—”

He makes a low, guttural sound, then scrolls down the list, his finger moving slowly to highlight line twenty-one.

I know that you didn’t know. Kyle told me. He told me your dad didn’t want you finding out. He told me about the money. He told me everything. I get it.

“Well, I still don’t, and I’m so pissed at both of them.”

He shifts his hand to a small keyboard and with painfully slow movements, types out, Don’t be mad at Kyle for asking your dad to help me.

I frown. “That’s not why I’m mad at Kyle. I would have demanded that my dad help you, and if he didn’t, I would have. I’m mad at Kyle because . . . I don’t even know why anymore. Because he didn’t tell me all this, I guess.” He had plenty of time. Plenty of chances, while tangled in my bedsheets with me, while pressing kisses against the back of my palm, while pretending everything was okay.

I wait patiently as Eric’s fingers move over the keyboard once again.

He was afraid to, because he thought your dad would cut me off of more help if he went against him.

“Eric, Kyle took a job in my building! Did he really not think that I was going to find out about all this eventually?” My dad’s right about one thing—Kyle is not stupid.

A strange half-moaning, half-grunting sound escapes Eric’s mouth, and I realize that he’s laughing.

I know. I dared him to, he types out.

My mouth drops. “What?”

I knew he was still in love with you, so I dared him.

My stomach tightens seeing that word. “But that’s . . . He wouldn’t risk pissing my dad off over a dare.”

Wanna bet? Again, that strange half-moan, half-grunt. I told him that if he didn’t do it, I would email you myself and tell you everything. This way at least he might get a happy ending out of it.

“There was definitely an ending,” I mutter, and, when I catch Eric’s curious eyes on me, I have to look away. I don’t want him to feel guilty or responsible for that mess. He has enough going on.

Eric scrolls through his list, to highlight an item that makes me pause.

I want to go to Camp Wawa. You, Ashley, me, and Kyle.

A conflicting wave of eagerness and dread washes over me. “They shut it down. I don’t know if they’re going to sell it or what.”

He taps on his screen harder.

I sigh. How can I say no? “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.” It means driving Eric six hours there, in his van, which means I had better make sure we can get on the property. Whatever . . . this is a challenge I can handle. Being there with Kyle, though, with all the emotions that are bound to rise up . . . I frown. “Why do you want to go back there so bad?”

He slowly types out, I guess cliff-jumping is out? and laughs.

“Kyle texted from town. They should be here by now,” Ashley announces, smoothing her frizzy hair off her forehead.

My palms are sweating as I pull my mom’s Z3—her latest car, which I had no idea she’d even purchased—past the open gate and into the familiar driveway. I’m not sure what I’m more nervous about: visiting Wawa again for the first time in thirteen years.

Or facing Kyle again.

We’ve arranged this trip mainly through email—Ashley and I emailing Eric, and him in turn emailing Kyle. I know Ashley and Eric have been messaging a lot over the past week, outside of planning for this trip. But Kyle and I haven’t exchanged a single word. I figured whatever needed to get out in the open would happen today, here.

I’m just not sure I’m ready for it.

My eyes veer in every direction as the car crawls along the long, winding road, unsure of where to settle first. This feels like coming home after being away from it for . . . thirteen years.

“This is surreal,” Ashley murmurs, plucking the words out of my head.

“Look.” I nod toward the pavilion. The vibrantly colored picnic tables are all there, sitting empty, the scribbles from last year’s campers still visible. The worn Camp Wawa paddles hang from the facing, though one has lost its anchor and dangles haphazardly. The grass around the property is long and unkempt; it likely hasn’t been cut all summer.

That familiar buzz I remember—of life and laughter and excitement—is long gone, leaving nothing but an eerie silence.

“There they are.” Ashley points toward Eric’s gray van, parked in the lot. The back is open, and Eric is easing his chair down the ramp as his hired nurse for their twelve-hour round trip looks on. I know they were leaving before daylight broke this morning in order to get here by noon. They must be exhausted.

Kyle steps out from around the other side. My chest pangs at the sight of him, in a pair of black jeans and a pullover, to combat the unseasonably cool weather that blew in over the weekend.

I pull my car up next to them and ease out, avoiding Kyle’s gaze for the moment to focus on Eric, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek. “Ready to go cliff-diving?” I whisper.

He laughs in response, and gives me a thumbs-up with his good hand.

“So when does the real estate agent get here?” Ashley asks.

“I told them we’d be here at one and it’s,” I check my phone, “noon now, so we have about an hour before we have to come back and pretend I’m interested in buying.” It didn’t take much digging to find out that the property is for sale, and it took even less time for them to agree to show it to me once I gave them my credentials.

Eric’s nurse takes that as her sign to climb into the van and shut the door behind her.

“Let’s go,” Eric says in his garbled speech, then shifts his joystick to round the curb and hop up onto the grass. He speeds away, Ashley jogging beside him, laughing. The oversized wheels on his motorized chair handle the uneven ground with ease.

“Who needs golf carts, right?” Kyle murmurs, coming up to stand beside me as I pull on my sweater.

His gaze is on our friends, allowing me to study his beautiful profile a moment.

I’m not angry with him, I realize.

I’m hurt. So hurt that he hid this from me.

But I miss him terribly, too.

“You should have told me everything, right from the start,” I manage around the sudden lump in my throat. That’s what bothers me out of all this.

“Your father didn’t want you to know.”

“He also didn’t want you anywhere near me,” I remind him with a glare.