But this was different—this was not a casual moment she could shut off and forget. Chase was gone. Their summer had just ended. Everything they had shared was neatly tied up and dispensed with. They had just said good-bye, while her lips still tingled from the heat of Chase’s kiss and her blood raced with wanting her.

Lily gripped the railing to steady herself, reeling to take in the abrupt departure—as final and traumatic as an amputation—while struggling to keep the well of sadness that brimmed within her from spilling out.

“Something happening?” Alisha asked at her shoulder.

“Forest fire.”

“I saw the smoke. Looks like it might be sizable.”

Lily turned when she was certain she had control again. “Chase said we should keep to today’s schedule. I’m without a compass here. How worried do I need to be?”

“Don’t need to worry yet.” Alisha checked to see that the other counselors had the campers engaged before continuing. “Fires aren’t uncommon during high summer when there hasn’t been much rain and the forests are dry. Added to the danger of natural causes like a lightning strike, we’ve got the most hikers dispersed throughout the area as we’ll have all year, increasing the chance of a careless campfire or tossed cigarette.”

“How difficult are they to get under control?”

Alisha grimaced. “The fire protocols are very effective—establish the natural local barriers—a stream or rock face where the fire won’t jump, shore up the defenses by cutting clear any underbrush or flammable foliage, starve it out from the air with retardants spread over the burn. Usually once the fire lines are secured to prevent it jumping into adjacent areas and after dampening the burn from the air or with ground water—if there’s any nearby—the fire will burn itself out.” She frowned. “If the weather cooperates.”

“Cooperates how?” Lily railed inwardly at her ignorance. She hated there were so many things she didn’t understand about this life, about Chase’s life. About the things that could endanger Chase’s life. For Lily, understanding was comfort, the lessening of worry and anxiety. Although that worry would never completely go away whenever Chase was out of sight. Except that had already happened, hadn’t it? She might’ve said good-bye to Chase for the last time already. When would that reality ever not shock her?

Her hands trembled and she carefully slipped them into the pockets of her shorts. She focused through the frustration and pain. “Wind, you mean. That’s what drives the flames, gives it air to breathe, to grow.” Her hands clenched tighter. She wouldn’t voice what could happen—the wildfire that roared down mountainsides, changing direction unexpectedly, jumping fire lines, trapping firefighters. She would not give those images any more power to terrify her.