“I know,” I say quietly. “I don’t let many people touch me.” I had better tell him the truth. “We went on a date once or twice,” I say.

“You’ve been on dates with him and you still don’t let him touch you?” He lifts his brow at me.

I nod, unsettled by his question.

“Good,” he says. He grins.

I start the truck and lay my right hand on the console between us, driving with my left. His injured arm comes up to settle beside mine and his pinkie crosses over mine, wrapping around it. It’s comfortable. It’s kind. It’s unsettling in a settling sort of way, and I don’t know what to do with it.

“Quit overthinking it,” he says, smiling out the window. He’s not even looking at me.

“Okay,” I say quietly. I settle back in my seat and scoot my hand closer to his.

My nerves are a mess by the time we get back to camp. Pete looks over at me and smiles. “Honey, we’re home,” he sings, grinning. But then he quickly sobers. He lowers his head, arching his neck, so he can look into my face. “You’re still overthinking it, aren’t you?” he asks softly.

I nod. I blink furiously to push back the tears. He’s so kind and he’s so sweet, but I’ve labored over this the whole way home. “I’m afraid I can’t be what you need for me to be,” I say quietly. “I just can’t.” I’ll never be normal. Never.

“You just met me,” he says. “How in the world could you know what I need?”

He lets go of my hand. I feel suddenly more alone than ever. I look into his eyes. “I really, really want to kiss you,” I say.

He grins. “Good.”

“But what if I can never do that?” Never do it without seeing his face in my mind instead of Pete’s?

Pete tangles his fingers with mine. “Does this feel all right?” he asks.

It wouldn’t have felt all right yesterday, but it’s suddenly all right today. “No.”

He jerks his hand back like I just scalded him.

“Wait.” I need to explain. “It doesn’t feel all right. It feels fabulous.”

His posture relaxes. “You scared me for a second.”

I reach for his hand and hold it tightly. “For me, this might be as close as I’ll ever get to having sex or that kiss I think I want from you.”

“Okay,” he says, grinning. I roll my eyes at him. His face softens. “I happen to like holding hands with you, dummy,” he says. “I like it a lot.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Probably more than I should.” He squeezes my hand. “So, if that’s all you’re ready for, I’m happy to do it. And just that.” He bends again, looking into my face. “I just met you yesterday. Do most men you meet want to get in your pants within twenty-four hours?”

I heave a sigh. He met me long before that, but, technically, he’s right.

“If so, you’ve been hanging out with the wrong types of men.” He lets my hand go and turns to open the truck door.

“Pete,” I call.

He looks over his shoulder at me, smiling. “Reagan,” he says, his tone mimicking mine. But he holds up a hand. “I know you want to sleep with me already, Reagan,” he says grinning. “But for God’s sake, I just met you yesterday. Give me some time to get to know you, will you?” He adjusts his clothing like I’ve undressed him with my eyes. “I’m more than a piece of meat.”

He’s still grinning, and I know he’s joking, but it suddenly hits me how silly I’m being. I’m letting my attraction to this man dictate my actions, and I’m putting up walls, tearing them down, and then building them up stronger. By the time the week is over, I’m going to be a damn fortress. But one thing’s for sure. If anyone can get past my walls and make me want him to be there, it’s Pete. Because I’m already halfway there.

Pete

Mr. Caster meets us at the truck when we get out, and he takes in my wrapped wrist with a solemn expression. But he regards the way Reagan looks at me with an even more solemn expression. “Everything go okay?” he asks, his gaze skittering between the two of us.

“Just a strain,” I say, holding up my arm so I can flex my fingers. I look around. The camp is devoid of kids. “Where is everyone?” he asks.

He jerks a thumb toward the pool. “Half the kids are at the pool. The other half is at the stable.”

“Is Link still cursing?” Reagan asks, wincing inside, I can tell.

“Your mother saved you when she dropped the f-bomb in front of him.” He smiles. He’s not angry at all.

Reagan laughs. “So glad I can count on her to save the day.”

“You can always count on your mother to curse more than you.” He looks at me. “Where are you stationed today? With Gonzo?”

I have no idea where I’m supposed to be. “Wherever you want me.” I hold out my hands waiting for his answer.

He nods his head toward the counselors’ cabins, which is where I’m staying. “Check in with Phil. I think he might be having group with some of the youth, and he might need solid adult presence to help him out.” I nod my head. I have never considered myself a solid adult, but my head swells at the thought that he does.

I look at Reagan and c**k my head to the side. I hope I look like an inquisitive puppy. Probably not, though. “Will I see you later?” I ask.