Archie considered this. “Oh. Right.”
“Finley, can you go with him, please?” Honey called as Archie trotted away. “Make sure you stay within sight of the tents.”
“Of course, Honey.” Honey heard the rustle of Finley crawling out of the tent. “Archie, wait up!”
“I should probably keep an eye on them, just to be safe,” Honey murmured to Buck. She started to push away from his chest, but he caught her in his arms.
“It’s fine. I’ll keep track of them. Might as well get some use out of this damn freaky hearing for once.” He pulled her back down. “So. Five weeks down. Three to go, because I doubt Conleth’s going to pull a replacement counselor out of his ass at this stage.”
Honey silently blessed Conleth’s unusual ineffectiveness. “He hasn’t given you any updates on that?”
“Haven’t asked, and I think he’s avoiding the topic. Probably the first time he’s ever failed at anything in his life. Sometimes I wonder if he was ever really looking.” He heaved an exasperated sigh. “Motherloving shifters. Even the sharpest of them is a damn romantic at heart. Can’t help playing Cupid.”
Thank you,Conleth. “We’ll just have to make it through three more weeks, then.”
Three more weeks of sunlit hikes and campfires at dusk. Three more weeks of laughter and silliness and magic. Three more weeks of stolen touches and long, heated nights in Buck’s cabin. She knew it couldn’t last, that the seasons had to turn eventually—but not yet. Not yet.
“Yes.” Buck was silent a moment. “Honey, the end of summer’s coming up fast.”
A muffled giggle came from the girls’ tent, followed by a piercing whisper: “We’re supposed to be sleeping!”
“Come onnnn, Beth,” Estelle’s voice carried clearly even through a layer of canvas. “It’s not a proper campout without a scary story!”
“I know one,” Flora volunteered. “About a guy with hooks for hands.”
“What, like a pirate?” Claire sounded perplexed. “That’s not scary at all.”
“Well, I’ve got one that is.” Estelle dropped her voice dramatically. “Did you know that there’s a real, actual ghost that haunts these very woods?”
“There is not,” Beth objected.
“There is too! I heard it from some of the older kids. They’veseenit.”
“I know an even scarier story,” Buck said loudly before the argument could escalate further. “About a cranky counselor who can hearyour every motherloving word.”
Instant silence.
“Is there a real, actual ghost who haunts these very woods?” Honey whispered.
“In this place? Nothing would surprise me.” He dropped his head back. “So, have you been thinking about it too?”
“What, the real, actual ghost?”
“Damn it, woman. You know full well what I mean. The other thing.”
“I know.” She sighed, watching the faint flash of fireflies drift overhead like phantom stars. “Do we really have to talk about it?”
“I think we do. Honey, we only have three more weeks.”
I am not going to cry. I amnotgoing to cry.
“Can’t we just live in the moment?” Her hand tightened in his staff t-shirt, holding on even though she knew she had to let go eventually. “Pretend that this doesn’t have to end?”
Buck had gone very still underneath her. She held her breath, waiting for his response.
Gently, he turned, so that they were side by side, facing each other. Honey tilted her chin up, searching his shadowed face. Even practically nose-to-nose, she couldn’t make out his expression.
“Honey,” he said softly. “Who says that this has to end?”
