Chapter 1
Present
Natalie’s cheerful poster—complete with red hearts—waits for me as I exit the terminal into the airport baggage claim.
WELCOME HOME FROM PRISON!
I smile at my old friend. “It took me fifteen years to get to this point, but I’m definitely going to murder you now.”
“I thought it’d draw less attention than writing WELCOME SUPER FAMOUS TABITHA WINTERS,” she says. “Besides, what’s a welcome back to Camp Oak Crest without a prank?”
“What’s first aid for eye sprain from rolling them too hard?” I keep my tone dry, but there’s something so reassuring, sonormal, about Natalie’s ridiculous poster that puts me at ease better than two hours of quiet affirmations on the plane had.
She tucks the poster under her arm and grabs me in a big hug, her honey curls tickling my nose. “It’s good to see you, Tabs. How have you been?”
“Great?”
“Why is that a question? Cable show, bestselling cookbook. We’re not worthy.”
“One, stop with the famous stuff. Two, if my oldest friends in the world aren’t ‘worthy,’ who is?”
Natalie grins. “For real, thank you for coming out to kick off the grand reopening of the camp. Nothing like a celebrity chef to convince all the rich parents that they’ve put their kids in the best place.”
“I can’t wait to see the renovations.” True. But also…not true? We’d spent three of the best summers of my life together as counselors at Camp Oak Crest, and I’m not ready to see it without its scruffiness from my memories. And that’s myleaststressful concern about coming.
Natalie promised Sawyer won’t be here. But all the memories of him will. Did I mention two hours of affirmations?
“Let me grab your bags, and we’ll hit the road. Ben is dying to see you, and you aren’t going to believe how big Juniper is.”
“Excuse me, but are you Tabitha Winters?” an unfamiliar voice behind me asks.
Natalie smothers a laugh, and I squeeze my eyes shut before putting on my public face and turning with a smile. “Hi, yes.”
It’s a woman in her mid-thirties, a middle-school-aged girl standing behind her with an expression suggesting she’d like to melt into the pavement, keeping her eyes on their luggage. “I knew it was you. Didn’t I say it was her, Kayla?”
Kayla doesn’t answer.
“I’m such a huge fan,” the woman gushes. “I watched your YouTube cooking tutorials before you even went viral.”
“Wow, you’re an OG,” I say, and Kayla cringes.
“Sure am,” the lady says. “I don’t want to bother you, but could we get a selfie with you? I’m dying. No one is going to believe we bumped into you in Roanoke, of all places.”
“Sure,” I say, even though the other half of her “we” looks like she’d rather die than be in this selfie.
“I can take it,” Natalie offers.
When the lady and her tortured child leave, Natalie lifts an eyebrow at me. “Not famous, huh?”
“Shut up.”
It’s a short walk to the parking lot, and I whistle when she clicks the key fob to unlock a newer Tahoe. “If this camp ‘van’ is a sign of things to come, I’m prepared to be blown away.”
“Nothing but the best for our star.” She opens the passenger door and waves me in before grabbing my bags and throwing them in the back.
I ignore her and climb into the back seat.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
