Page 48 of Camp Bliss
It’s the best damn sandwich I’ve ever had in my life.
Maybe the best meal.
I steal a glance at Zach as I devour a second bite and catch him looking back at his plate, the grin he’s wearing is not nearly as humble anymore. It might even be a little smug.
I don’t care.
Maybe I’ve just never been this depleted—physically or emotionally—and all of my cells are crying out for nourishment, but I inhale the first half of the BLT in what feels like seconds. Then I decimate the chips.
I draw in a deep breath, sit up straighter, and sip my beer.
The world suddenly feels like a better place.
Beside me Zach chomps a potato chip and chuckles. “Food, right?”
“Yeah. Who knew?”
He barks a laugh. “Your whole—” He lifts a hand that’s holding a chip and draws a circle in the air in front of me. “I don’t know. Posture. Aura. Everything just came back to life right in front of my eyes.”
“The wonders of a BLT,” I say with a shrug, but I’m smiling.
Who would have thought that was possible a few hours ago?
Zach nods, but then the motion slows as his smile closes down. I pick up the second half of my sandwich, but I don’t take my eyes off him.
“What?” I ask and then take a bite.
He looks at his plate, his frown deepening, then shakes his head, not looking back at me. “It can wait until tomorrow.”
The bite of BLT turns sticky in my throat. I swallow hard and shake my head.
“No, it can’t.” Something’s bothering him. Something he’s keeping from me. It’s written all over his face. I set the sandwich back on my plate. “D-Did you hear from Josh?”
His gaze leaps back to mine, wide-eyed. “No. No. It’s…” The frown is back, and he’s studying me. With something that looks like…
Pity.
My spine steels, and I glare at him.
“Out with it, Rousseau.” My demand carries the force of a shove, and he actually flinches. “Whatever you’re not saying, say it. I deserve to know.”
He blinks, looking stunned. Then Zach tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and nods. “You’re right… I just wasn’t sure if now—”
“My day’s already ruined. No need to spread shit around.”
I sound sure. And strong.
But, Jesus, I’m not. He knows something I don’t know, and it’s like my fate is in his hands.
Instead of my own.
In nanoseconds, my mind is casting around for all manner of worst-case scenarios. Josh has left me for another woman. Josh is addicted to opioids. Josh joined a cult and—
“He screwed us, Greta.”
“What do you mean?” Of course, he’s screwed us. He’s left us. He’s leftme. Without him, does any of this—all this work, our plans for Camp Bliss—even make sense?
But I’ve seen Zach look annoyed. Disdainful. Judgy. Superior. Pissed.
