“You succeeded.” Chase rolled over with a long sigh. Her hand found Lily’s and their fingers entwined. “I really better get out of here.”

“I know.” Lily didn’t want four dozen teens speculating on her sex life—to say nothing of her colleagues. They probably all speculated, but they didn’t need to see the rumpled, satisfied proof. “Go jump in the shower.”

“Yeah?” Chase sounded hopeful.

“Alone.”

Chase sighed but didn’t move and, after another moment, asked quietly, “When are you leaving?”

Lily bit her lip for an instant until she was sure her voice would be steady and light. “A week from today. I wanted to wait till all the campers left over the weekend. I imagine Sarah will need help getting the inventory and paperwork squared away too.”

Chase’s grip on hers tightened briefly. “Will you start back to work right away?”

“I don’t know, probably.” Talking about not being here was almost easier than thinking about it. Thinking about it only brought up a sense of longing, as if her mind got stuck on the one inescapable reality—her life would be one without Chase in it. “I’ve talked to my boss, and of course he can’t wait for me to get back.” Lily chuckled wryly. “So I assume sometime next week.”

Chase leaned on her elbow and kissed her. “Well, you’ve got a week left.”

Chase’s tone was curiously flat, and Lily tried to read her face, but Chase turned away too quickly. The rigid set of her shoulders as she reached for her pants didn’t invite a touch, and Lily kept silent.

Chase stood in just her pants, her T-shirt balled in her fist, and a totally neutral expression on her face. “Give me five minutes in the shower.”

When she emerged, dressed and hair still damp, less than five minutes later, Lily asked, “I’ll see you for breakfast?”

“Yep,” Chase said as she headed toward the door. “I’ve just got to check in and make sure the weather works for today’s trip.”

“I’ll wait,” Lily called after her, and then Chase was gone.

Lily sighed. That went as well as it probably could have, even though putting words to the reality left her feeling mildly ill. She’d always known what would happen when this time came, but knowing hadn’t prepared her for the sinking sensation she carried around with her all day long. She’d never before had trouble dealing with hard truths—all her training had been focused on accepting the randomness, vagaries, and sometimes outright unfairness of life so she could continue to do her job with compassion and hope. She’d struggled with that in the face of so much failure the last few years, but she’d survived it and recovered her professional balance this summer.