“I didn’t know you couldn’t use the dishwashing liquid in the dishwasher. I mean, they do the same job. I just grabbed it. Of course, Olivia pointed out that had I read the directions, I might have seen it expressly stated on the back label that it wasn’t for use in dishwashers.”

Zeke shook his head. “Did the dishes get clean?”

Chase shrugged. “I don’t know. Olivia was so put out with me that after we finally cleaned up the suds all over the place, she sent me up to my room to do some homework.”

“Homework?” Zeke had started disassembling the rod she’d used. The sun had started sinking lower, and the light had gone more golden as the day made plans to take its leave. The hike back to Zeke’s jeep was at least thirty minutes. Time to leave peace behind.

“Like worksheets on emotions and crap. Things that make you think about the bad stuff that happened to you or the reasons you snorted coke in the bathrooms of clubs or went down on guys you don’t even know.”

That was probably too much information, because Zeke’s brow lowered, and he glanced away from her. She knew he was too nice to ask the question, Did you do those things?

And she was glad he didn’t ask, because she didn’t want to have to answer it.

Because her behavior embarrassed her. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt ashamed of the life she’d led, and it wouldn’t be the last. She couldn’t change her poor choices in the past. That was what the homework emphasized. She’d begun the book in rehab, one that was similar to all the others she’d done. Before, she’d answered with what she thought the therapists were looking for, but this time, after she’d thankfully bailed out of Cedar Point, she’d continued doing the workbook even though she was no longer in group therapy. A teeny part of her missed group therapy because most of those people had been as effed up as she was. Misery loves company, right?

“You probably haven’t had much bad stuff in your life, have you?” she asked, stepping out of the stream and holding her rod case out to Zeke.

He took it, his expression darkening a little. Then he lifted his head, staring out across the river at the signs of fall coloring the opposite bank. “You know, I’m like anyone else. Life hasn’t been a continuous picnic. I guess that’s why I came back here. It’s easier to think in this world, to live intentionally, like Thoreau suggested.”

“Who?”