Say You Still Love Me(131)

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.

His jaw tenses. “I wanted to tell you, but I was ashamed. And afraid.”

I frown. “Afraid of what? That I wouldn’t understand why you went to him?”

“That you’d finally realize that your father’s right about me.”

“Except that I know he’s not right about you. He never has been. It’s you who can’t seem to believe it.”

Kyle frowns at his shoes a moment before turning to study me, his gaze flittering over my features. “I’m an idiot, and I should have told you. But, if it’s any consolation, you now know everything there is to know.”

“Until the next time you can’t find the nerve to tell me the whole truth.”

He sighs, and then, nodding once, sets off toward Ashley and Eric, his head bowed.




Kyle gives the canteen door a tug, but it’s locked.

Ashley smiles wistfully at the kitschy signs that still plaster the wall. “Remember how kids used to write secrets on the backs of these?” She reaches for the one that reads, “What Happens at Camp, Stays at Camp” and lifts it off the nail, to flip it over and show me several lines of handwriting on the underside. “Here’s a good one: ‘I kissed a girl and I liked it. Izzy D. 2012.’?”

My mouth drops. “Izzy? I think she was my camper!” Though six years older in 2012.

Eric makes a sound, beckoning Ashley to him, to read the iPad over his shoulder as he slowly types.

“Check the ‘Go Jump in the Lake’ sign, he says.”

Kyle trots over to the far end, to locate the square blue metal plaque. He unfastens the screw with his fingers and pulls the sign off. And grins, holding it up for us to read.

“Oh my God, ‘Ashley Young has a nice rack’! Who wrote that!” Ashley squeals.

“Who do you think?” Kyle laughs.

“Eric!” Her cheeks flame.

One side of Eric’s mouth lifts in a smile as he types out something else.

She leans over to see what he’s writing. “Check the ‘Happy Campers Live Here’ sign.”

Kyle secures the blue sign again and begins moving away. “We should keep going, if we want to get to the beach before the agent gets here, right?”

Kyle clearly doesn’t want us to see what’s written there, which means I need to see it. I march over to the sign in question and lift it off its hook, flipping it over.