Oakley’s blue-and-brown eyes hold mine, the expression on his face one I have a hard time putting a name to. “You forgave me.”
“It’s not the same thing. And of course I did. You’re you.”
“God, Lawson. I have never in my life met someone as loyal as you. If I asked you to help me bury a body, I’m fairly sure you’d do it.”
“I’d ask some questions first,” I tell him.
The look he gives me is full of mirth. “Of course you would. We gonna pitch this tent or what?”
Nodding, I toss Oakley some of the metal supports, and we get to work. Not ten minutes later, our campsite adjacent to our group’s cabins is ready to go, sleeping bags and backpacks inside our tent. We make a return trip to the truck to grab the rest of our supplies, including the snacks Oakley brought. By the time we’re back at campsite B, the kids have arrived.
Liv directs them with ease, everyone stashing their things inside the cabins, picking out bunks, putting on sunscreen or bug spray as necessary. Oakley and I help another of the parents with their own tent, the woods here shaded enough we’re not sweating too badly by the time we’re done.
“Ten bucks says we find some kids sneaking away foryou know whatbefore the weekend is over,” Oakley whispers.
I swat his chest. “I’m not taking that bet. Behave.”
He chuckles.
Once everyone is ready, we head as a group to the mess hall for dinner, the campground offering meals for outings like this. The food is…edible.
The energy in the room is excited, all the kids part of the to-be-senior class, every face one I recognize whether from teaching them myself or seeing them in the school halls. I give Oakley a nudge when one student in particular stands on topof his seat to act something out for his friends, the returned laughter raucous.
“Oh, boy,” Oakley murmurs. “Do we need to keep an eye on that one?”
“Might.”
“Think he’ll cause trouble?”
I shrug. Koda isn’t a bad kid at heart, but he feeds off attention from his friends. If they push him enough, he may find himself in a situation he shouldn’t be in. It’s happened before, both at camp and at school.
Oakley subtly rubs the knuckles of his fist into his open palm, and I bark a laugh before clearing my throat.
“We do not physically reprimand the kids,” I say quietly, smacking his thigh, although I know he’d never do that.
His smirk is all playful.
When dinner is done, we return to our campsite. The first night is about settling in. Tomorrow and Sunday, the kids will have plenty of time to play in the lake or explore via hiking around the camp’s trails. But tonight, Liv lets them do their own thing, chatting and playing yard games and sitting in groups around the fire pits starting to burn.
I check on Wendy every once in a while. Can’t help it. But I don’t bother her, knowing embarrassment comes easy for them at this age.
Oakley takes a seat near me, the two of us in front of one of the fire pits. There are sturdy logs surrounding the area. Not the most comfortable to sit on, but they get the job done.
He knocks his knee into mine, the ingredients for s’mores near his foot. “Want a marshmallow, Teach?”
“Roast one for me?” I ask. “You know how I like ’em.”
His lips twitch as he reaches for a stick.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he answers, tone light. “Not. A. Thing.”
“Oak…”
“No, really. It’s nothing. Whatever your Royal Highness wants, he gets.”
My body flashes hot, the teasing smile on Oakley’s face not helping one bit. He didn’t outright call meprincess, but he might as well have. It doesn’t feel like he’s mocking me. Oakley would never be cruel like that.
