Page 27

CALLIE

T he sky’s blue.

The birds are singing.

No one’s screaming.

It’s almost suspicious.

I walk out of the mess hall with a plate of slightly over-toasted pancakes and a heart that still hasn’t settled back into a normal rhythm since, you know, fighting off the magic of a sentient, underwater rift with love and stubbornness.

Hazel catches me just outside the archery range, sparkly fanny pack bouncing.

“Did you know they’re throwing a party?” she chirps.

I blink. “What?”

“Celebration. For defeating ancient evil and saving Camp Lightring. You know, Tuesday stuff. ”

I glance down at my syrup-stained shirt. “This is what I get for sleeping past seven.”

Hazel beams. “They’re making s’mores. And there’s gonna be a banner. With glitter.”

Of course there is.

By the time I make it to the central lawn, there’s streamers, a suspicious number of glow sticks, and Jason is attempting to climb onto a picnic table with a bullhorn.

Ryder’s not here yet.

Probably hiding.

Probably brooding behind a tree like a moody statue carved out of responsibility and unresolved feelings.

Julie finds me first, wearing her “I survived a magical emergency and all I got was this glitter shirt” smile.

“You seen your boy?” she asks.

“Not since last night.”

“He better show. The kids are hyped.”

As if on cue, a counselor lets out a dramatic gasp and points toward the woods.

And there he is.

Ryder.

In an actual button-down shirt.

Still damp at the collar. Still walking like the world might fall apart under his boots.

And still the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever seen.

The moment the kids spot him, everything erupts.

A standing ovation, cheers, hoots, literal jumping.

Jason fires off a confetti cannon that was absolutely not cleared by safety.

Ryder freezes, eyes wide like someone just cast a spotlight on a deer.

I stride up beside him and grab his hand.

“Smile, lake boy,” I whisper. “You earned it.”

He glances down at me. “This is humiliating. ”

“No,” I say, tugging him forward. “This is love. ”

He lets me pull him onto the makeshift stage, and the campers swarm, chanting his name like he’s a celebrity lifeguard.

He blushes.

Like blushes blushes.

And suddenly I’m the one melting.

When the noise finally dies down, Ryder clears his throat.

And says “Thanks.”

Just that.

Just one word.

But somehow, it’s enough.

Because this man, who nearly gave up everything to save us, who never wanted recognition or parades or streamers…

He’s here.

With me.

With them.

And for once, he’s letting himself be seen.

I lean in, kiss his cheek, and whisper, “You’re a big softy.”

He mutters, “Don’t tell anyone.”

Too late.

Hazel already has it written in sparkler cursive.

After the cheering dies down and the kids get distracted by the promise of s’mores and suspiciously aggressive dodgeball, I slip away for a breather.

Julie finds me behind the supply shed, halfway through stealing a soda from the emergency stash.

“Hey,” she says, leaning against the wall like we’re in some teen drama from 2003.

I raise the can in salute. “Don’t worry, I’m looting in moderation.”

She smiles, soft and sure. “You ever think about staying?”

I freeze.

“Like, staying here ?”

She nods. “Full-time. Year-round programs are expanding. We need someone who knows the kids, who knows how to make things happen. Someone who doesn’t blink when lake magic gets weird.”

I open my mouth.

Close it.

Then laugh, because it’s safer than saying anything real.

Julie watches me.

“I’m serious, Callie.”

“I know,” I whisper. “That’s the scary part.”

She squeezes my arm once and walks away, leaving me in the dusk, holding a lukewarm soda and a question that won’t stop echoing:

What if I didn’t leave?

I find Julie again just as she’s chasing Jason away from the sound system with a glowstick like it’s a holy relic.

“Hey,” I say, stepping in before the kid’s eyebrows get singed. “About what you said earlier…”

Julie raises a brow. “The job?”

“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “I was thinking. I mean, I’ve got the degree. Engineering. Design systems, structures, maintenance… all the logic stuff I usually bury under glitter.”

She smiles. “You want to build things?”

“I want to make things that matter. Stuff the camp could use. Safe float systems, enchanted filtration, maybe even updating the ward lines without relying on century-old rune bandages.”

Julie whistles low. “That sounds… like a hell of a contribution.”

“And I don’t know,” I say slowly, “maybe I stopped running from being useful in that way.”

Julie looks at me. Really looks.

“You could shape the future here, Callie.”

I grin. “Then I better order more duct tape.”

She laughs, and I swear I feel like I might actually be exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Later, I sit on the lifeguard tower.

Not because it’s my shift.

Just… because.

The kids are swimming again.

Laughing. Splashing. Daring each other to do backflips off the float rings I rigged back on day two.

And this time?

They’re safe.

We’re safe.

I scan the lake calm, clear, no ripples deeper than a cannonball. No hidden pulse. No hum in my bones.

Just summer.

Just sunlight.

Just a boy with a monster’s power and a girl with an engineer’s brain who decided love might actually be stronger than anything the lake could throw at us.

Ryder’s out there, too, kneeling at the shoreline, teaching Evan how to coil a rope.

He looks up at me, eyes catching mine.

And smiles.

The kind that says, We’re okay now.

I believe it.

I lean back in the chair, close my eyes, and let the breeze run through my hair.

Because this camp?

This weird, magical, unpredictable place?

It’s not just where the story happened.

It’s where we happened.

And I’m not going anywhere.