(Lucy's POV)

Owen fell into step beside me, and I matched his pace without thinking.

He lit a cigarette before we'd gone twenty feet. Took a long drag, then cleared his throat like he was preparing a speech.

"Look," he said, "that's just how they are. All of us. Don't read too much into it."

"How they are," I repeated. "What does that mean, exactly?"

He opened his mouth. Before he could answer, the guy walking just ahead of us - Marcus, I thought his name was, one of Cole's friends - turned around.

"You want an example?" Marcus said. "Last month. We did that trail up at Ridge Point." He took a few steps backward, facing us, gesturing with his water bottle. "Halfway up, Nina says her legs gave out. Just sits down in the middle of the path. Won't move. Says Brian has to carry her down."

I waited.

"And?" I said.

"And he did." Marcus shrugged. "It's not a big deal. She's just Nina. We all treat her like that - like a buddy, you know? Brian too. That's all it is."

I nodded slowly. "I've just never seen a friendship like that before," I said. "It's really something. I'm glad I know it exists."

Marcus seemed satisfied with that. He turned back around and kept walking.

Owen glanced at me sideways. He took another drag of his cigarette and didn't say anything else.

I turned my head and looked back toward where Brian and Nina had disappeared around Owen's truck.

I didn't say anything either.

The campsite sat at the top of the ridge, a commercial setup with everything arranged in neat rows. The main area had long wooden tables under an open-sided tent, portable stoves and grills lined up, food spread across every surface - marinated ribs, burger patties, corn on the cob, hot dogs, stacks of beer cans, and a bag of marshmallows someone had already torn open. The ridge stretched out on the far side, green and rolling, the peaks soft under a thin layer of cloud.

I leaned back in my chair and looked at all of it. For a moment, it was actually fine. The air was cold and clean, the view was good, and nobody was talking to me.

Then Nina's voice cut through everything.

"Owen, you need to flip those patties - one side's burning."

She was standing at the grill, tongs in hand, scanning the setup like she was running an inspection.

"Brian." She turned. "Where's the brisket? I specifically told you to bring brisket."

Brian picked up a beer. "I forgot."

Nina set the tongs down on the edge of the grill. "You've had a girlfriend for two years, and now you can't remember one thing I asked you to bring?" She looked at him. "Has your brain completely stopped working?"

I set down my drink and stood up. "I'm going to take a walk."

Nina looked up at me.

Brian pushed his chair back and stood. "I'll come with you."

"You don't have to," I said. I kept my voice easy. "I just want to stretch my legs."

He paused. His jaw tightened for exactly one second, then his face settled back into neutral.

Nina grabbed his arm. "You're staying. We said everyone does a round on the skewers, and you haven't finished yours. Lucy's done, she can go." She looked at Brian. "Sit down."

Brian looked at me.

"Really," I said. "I'll be back in a bit."

He sat down.

I turned and walked away. As I passed Nina, my eyes moved over her for just a second. She was watching me. Her hand was still on Brian's arm, and her fingers had tightened without her seeming to notice.

I kept walking. I didn't look back. There was no sound from behind me, but I could feel her eyes on me until I cleared the tent.

The top of the ridge didn't offer much in terms of escape. The front was all dining tents - crowded, loud, people bumping into each other with plates and bottles. Behind the sleeping tents was a row of small food stalls and a secondary grill station, tourists everywhere making noise.

I pushed through until I found the open stretch of grass at the back of the camp. I'd spotted it when we arrived - most people didn't come this far. That was exactly why I needed it.

My brain had been running the same loop for three days. I needed five minutes of quiet to sort through it.

But someone was already there.

A man stood under a large tree about thirty feet away. Black t-shirt, casual pants, tall - just over six feet. He had his head down, looking at his phone, the white light of the screen falling across his face. The rest of this corner of the camp was dark and still.

I slowed down. I considered turning around quietly and leaving without him noticing.

Then the corner of his mouth moved. Just slightly, like something on his screen had almost made him laugh.

He pressed the screen off. Looked up.

His eyes landed on me.

I stopped.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm not trying to bother you."

He looked at me. Slowly, his gaze moved from my feet to my face. One eyebrow went up.

"Do you remember me?" he asked.

His voice was low and even.

I squinted at him. The light was bad out here, and there was real distance between us. I couldn't make out his face clearly.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know who you are."

The almost-smile disappeared. His mouth went flat. The expression that replaced it made me feel like I'd said the wrong thing.

I stood there not knowing what to do with that. This was an old reflex - the kind built from years of being passed between parents who were done with each other and not entirely sure what to do with a kid. Even when it wasn't my fault, my first move was always to look inward, figure out what I'd done wrong. I knew I did it. I was working on it. But standing in the dark, watching this man's expression go cold, I felt the habit kick in anyway.

I was still deciding between leaving silently and saying something when he walked toward me.

He stopped a few feet away.

I looked up at his face. The light from the dining tent reached just far enough.

He looked at me steadily. Then, after a beat, he said, "Sorry. I mistook you for someone else. You look like a friend of mine."

Oh.

"It's fine," I said. "Don't worry about it." The tension went out of my shoulders.

He was quiet for a moment. He seemed to be working something out.

"Can I ask you a favor?" he said.

"Sure."

"I have terrible sense of direction." He paused. "Are you heading back to the main camp? Could I walk with you?"

I looked at him. Then I turned and looked back at the row of tents about forty yards behind me, lights clearly visible, voices drifting across the grass.

"You've been standing out here this whole time," I said, "because you're lost?"

He nodded. Completely straight-faced.

I pressed my lips together and held the laugh in.

"Okay," I said. "Let's go."

"Thank you," he said.