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There was a reverence in the way he held me, and all I could think was how much I liked the weight of him on top of me. How safe and anchored and grounded I felt.

How cherished.

I never wanted to move from this spot.

There was nothing outside of this tent tonight. Nothing.

There was nowhere to be, no phone to check. No lights to turn off or doors to wonder whether I’d locked. Not even the faint white noise that comes with civilization. The only person I wanted with me was here, and the serenity of the lake and woods combined with Jason’s gentle affection made me relax in a way I hadn’t known was possible. Like I’d been tense my whole life and hadn’t even known it.

All that was left was us.

A big scary world existed somewhere, where bad things happened and people you cared about died—or left you on fourteen-month tours around the world. But tonight there was only this. And I was happy, and grateful, to have it.

Even if it wouldn’t last.

* * *

The next morning Tucker met us at the water’s edge as we docked back at the shores of Camp Larsen. Jason grabbed my ass before he picked up the canoe and pack, and I giggled and hit him.

We were going home today, and we’d already decided that he was spending the night at my place tonight.

He carried everything to the garage, and I came in with him to drop off the paddles, both of us grinning. He hadn’t stopped smiling since he opened his eyes this morning. Neither had I.

We never did see those lights. We’d been a little distracted—all night. I was sore and tired, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Well, unless of course he wasn’t leaving me. But that was something I wouldn’t let myself think about right now.

I followed him through the garage with Tucker, looking around at all the toys. The Larsens were definitely outdoorsmen. They had all the things. Kayaks harnessed to the ceiling, three snowmobiles under covers, a wall of fishing gear. Even a motorcycle was parked in the left stall.

“Your dad rides?” I asked as I looked down at a carefully organized box of fishing lures.

“Oh, the motorcycle?” he said, shouldering off the enormous pack and putting it in the bed of Paul’s truck. “No, that’s mine.”

I looked up and blinked at the bike.

His? Jason, on a motorcycle? I didn’t know he—

Sand.

Invisible grains of sand began to fill my lungs. Every breath gave me sand. It poured down my throat, heavy and thick, taking up the space in my chest, robbing me of air, drying out my mouth.

Can’t breathe.

Couldn’t get anything past the weight of it. I gasped. Tears spilled down my cheeks. The panic spread, the sand coursed through my veins. I couldn’t make it stop.

It drowned me.