Damn. He was all business. I was slightly disappointed… Slightly. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.

But I couldn’t help it. “Hey, Keith?”

He paused and looked back.

“If you needed to confess one sin to save your life, what would it be?”

“Keep it up, Charlie. We have other alumni staff we can call.” He turned away.

“Oh yeah? How many of them can ask you—” A hand clapped over my mouth.

“Keep walking, Boss,” Trent called. “I got her handled.”

No one handled me.

Well, except Trent just now, and I needed it.

I gulped down some oxygen once he lifted his hand. “Thank you. I almost lost a second job there.”

He moved back, but his chuckle was strained. “I gotta go, but you need to get yourself in check. I mean it. I have to leave tomorrow for another speaking event, and I won’t be back till the end of their stay. You going to be okay till then?”

I nodded.

Once the camp weeks started, it wouldn’t be hard to avoid Keith. He tended to only show up for meals. He’d stay in the office other than that, so as long as he wasn’t poking his nose in at the gym courts, I would be fine. I could do the dishes and squirrel away a plate of food.

“You’ll help rein her in if she needs it?” Trent called to Hadley, walking by.

She threw him a smile over her shoulder, not stopping. She went out, picked up a steamer, and brought it back. “No problem,” she said as she passed us again. “Though I’ve always enjoyed Charlie’s feisty side.”

“For some reason, I’m not reassured.”

I slapped Trent on the arm. “Get on. I’ll be fine. And if nothing else, I’ll whisper my random questions.”

He gave me a dry look. “Right. Because that’s not creepy.”

I shrugged, going back to the dishes.

The players had started to migrate out the doors, leaving all their dishes on the table.

Normal camps had a process where campers were told how to collect plates on one tray, silverware on another, throw away their trash, etc. Adult camps were just told to take their dishes to the dish window, but these guys were none of those. I wasn’t surprised to see that not one of them brought their stuff to the window. That would add thirty minutes to the cleanup.

But just then Owen whipped through with a cart.

Owen was bringing the window to their dishes. It was decked out, even with a soaker tub for the silverware.

“Okay. I’m going to go.” Trent still lingered. “You haven’t asked about your baller crush.”

Hyperventilating.

Do you regret anything you did five days ago? Five weeks? Five months? Five years?