“Well, what do you think?”

Booth grinned at Jane as she batted her eyelashes at him. She’d just gotten out of the makeup thing with Octavio.

“You look fantastic,” he said. “Your eyes are…they look so different.” From the neck up, she looked like a pin-up girl.

“I had so much fun. And look!” She held up a small bag. “We got to keep all the makeup.”

Booth nodded to Octavio. “You look great too, dude. That lipstick looks good on you.”

“Thank you.” Octavio smiled. “Red’s my color.”

“So, ready for the photo shoot?” Booth asked Jane.

“I have to go to my cabin and get my camera gear, but otherwise, yes.”

“I got a picnic lunch for us while you were getting all dolled up.”

He’d read in one of the brochures that Camp Firefly Falls offered that option for its guests. He wanted to be alone with Jane, away from the Gaydies, away from everyone. He had eleven years to catch up on and an unknown quantity of years ahead, because he was not going to screw things up this time. And he wasn’t going to pressure her for sex either. Of course, he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms again, feel her naked body against his. He’d dreamed of sinking into her soft wet heat so many times, caressing her, squeezing, gripping, thrusting.

But he was in this for the long haul. He could restrain himself for a week, damn it. He just had to remind himself of the end goal: Jane, forever, all of her, not just her snatch. If he remembered that, he thought he could do it. He would let her set the pace.

“Ooh, a picnic,” she said. “Fabulous.”

“I’ll catch you later, Jane,” Octavio said. “Maybe at the dance lessons.”

“Yes. I’ll be there. We’ll both be there,” she said with a glance at Booth.

“You want me to dance?” he asked, cringing inside. He’d never been a good dancer. His body was meant to play motherfucking hockey, to defend the goal with any part of his body necessary, not jump around to music like a trained monkey.

“I want you to learn to swing dance. With me,” she said. “At the end of camp there’s a big Sock Hop and dance contest, just like in the movie. I’m not planning to do the contest, but swing dancing is really fun and it’s good exercise.”

“Jane, come on. Let’s do something else. Let’s go on a hike. That’s excellent exercise. Or we could take out one of the canoes.”

“Don’t be such a party pooper. It’ll be fun.”

“It’ll be torture.”

“If you go with me and learn how to swing dance, I’ll…make it worth your while.”

“How?”

“How about a kiss? Is one of my kisses worth ‘torture’?”

Schwing!

“Are you kidding? Your kisses are worth the world,” he said, pulling her into his arms before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. She let out a surprised breath.

“I didn’t mean now,” she protested, laying her hands on his chest.

He reveled in the feeling of Jane’s lush body pressed against his. Looking up at him, her lips parted, she seemed nervous and maybe a little excited. It was hard to tell.

Every atom in his body wanted to keep hold of her and never let her go. The atoms below his belt wanted to do a hell of a lot more than just hold her. But he released her all the same. Slow and steady wins the race, he told himself.

Plus if he’d held her any longer, she’d have felt his hard-on.

When they got to her cabin he remarked on how nice it was.

“Doesn’t yours look like this?” she asked, examining a white envelope and tossing it into the trash. “Where are you staying anyway? I saw you last night going toward the woods. Is there a Presidential Cabin out there for the super-rich people?”

“No, nothing like that,” he said. “Still don’t use hangers, huh?”

She glanced at the discarded clothes on the big king-sized bed, on the floor, draped over the chair and laughed. “No, I use hangers. Look.”

She opened the closet to reveal clothing she’d set aside for the photo shoots all hung up in color-coordinated sections. The shoes—some of them completely inappropriate for a summer camp—stood like a neat row of twin soldiers.

“It’s weird,” she said, as he made himself at home by stretching out on the bed, “but all my work stuff I keep organized. It’s just my personal stuff that gets tossed all over. I’ve tried to apply the organization to everything I own, but it just doesn’t work.” She flipped through the closet, a thoughtful look on her face. “I brought enough stuff for several looks because I wasn’t sure what I’d be in the mood for. I had this one idea for a ‘Summer White’ look, all white, everything white. Then I brought stuff for if I was going to a Pride Parade, since June is Pride Month. And then since I was going to be here at camp, I pulled clothes for a hike. Nothing really very exciting, but against the backdrop of the scenery, I think I can get away with it. So what do you think? ‘Summer White,’ ‘Pride,’ or ‘Hitting the Trail’? I’m leaning toward the Pride one, just because that post has an expiration date.”

When Booth didn’t answer, she turned and saw him on her bed, apparently sleeping. Not quite believing it, she crept closer.

“Booth?” she said softly.

He chose that moment to snore softly.

He was sleeping. She reached out to prod him, but stopped short, realizing this was her chance to really look at him and take in the minute details. Even relaxed in sleep, all his muscles seemed taut and sculpted. His beard was brown from a distance, but up close, she could see gold and amber hairs and yes, even a few gray ones. There were some fine lines around his eyes and he still had thick dark eyelashes that she envied. His chest rose and fell as he breathed evenly and she felt the strong urge to lay down next to him and snuggle up. An urge made stronger by the fact that she knew what it felt like to be cradled by those arms. Sure, they were more muscular now than they had been, but there had been no place she’d felt safer or more cherished.

His eyes opened and focused on hers. He gave her a slow, knowing smile that warmed her from the inside out. The pull she felt grew even stronger. All she had to do was lean down one more inch and their lips would touch. The idea of kissing him thrilled and frightened her.

He said nothing but his fingers closed around her arm. His eyes seemed to darken as they continued to bore into hers. Jane felt her breath come faster. Lord, she wanted to kiss him, to feel his mouth take hers, hot and demanding. She wanted him to pull her onto the bed and roll until she was pinned underneath him with all that delicious man-weight pressing her down.

But she could not kiss him. Because she knew she wouldn’t stop at one kiss, not with the bed right here and not with her hoohah all aflutter.

So, she forced herself to straighten and reestablish the distance she needed between them. Thankfully, he let her pull away, but the smile he had on his face remained.

“Lazy bones,” she said, in a pretty lame attempt to regain face. “It’s not even lunchtime and you’re taking a nap.”

He rose up on his elbows. “I didn’t sleep well. I swear I was sleeping on rocks. Your bed is so comfortable.”

“Don’t get too comfy there. You can lie there about ten more minutes. I’m going to go change and then I’m giving you a lesson on my camera.”

When she came out, Booth’s eyes widened. “Wow. You look great.”

She did a little spin for him. “Really? Thank you.”

There were seven items in the “Hitting the Trail” look: denim shorts, hiking boots, a black tube top under an unbuttoned red and white plaid shirt, a wide brimmed straw hat, a scarf and a little flask with an old-fashioned illustration of a pine tree on it.

“Is there booze in that thing?” he asked, pointing at the flask.

“No. It’s just for looks, a prop to take the place of the purse I usually hold.”

“It’s real, though, right? It could hold booze.”

“Yes, it could.”

“Well, let’s fill it then.” He looked around. “Where’s the minibar?”

“There is no minibar. Is there a minibar in your cabin?”

“Ah, no.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “I don’t have a minibar either. We’ll have to do a booze raid. They probably keep it in the kitchen.”

“Booth, no. We’re not going to raid the kitchen.”

“Okay, okay, it’s all coming back to me now. I forgot you are the party pooper.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You’re talking about that time at the drug store, aren’t you?”

“You bet I am.”

“I was the voice of reason.”

“You were the cock-blocker.”

She gaped at him then rolled her eyes. “Well, even if I was, it prevented you from being arrested for shoplifting.”

They stood there staring at each other and then the laughter came. It really had been one of their funnier capers. They’d been apart for three whole days and when they finally got some time alone together, they realized they were out of condoms. To add insult to injury, neither of them had any money either, so at the drug store, Booth wanted to tuck a box into the waistband of his shorts and Jane wouldn’t let him.

“I won’t get caught, I promise,” he said, looking up and down the aisle. “As soon as that lady leaves…” There was a woman browsing farther down in the tampon section.

She squeezed his arm. “No, Booth, no. Have you done this before?” she asked, more than a little appalled that he was even suggesting this.

“No. But it can’t be that hard. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I need to be with you tonight, Janie. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, but that’s stealing,” she’d hissed. “No. I won’t let you do this. If you even try, I’ll…I’ll make a scene.”

He scowled at her, but eventually gave in. “Okay, fine. I have another idea anyway. Come on.”

In the same shopping center as the drug store was a sports bar. Jane said, “I’m not old enough to drink.”

“We’re not here to drink,” he said.

“What are you going to do?”

He gave her a look. “I’m going to get a condom. Just stay here. I won’t be long.”

“Wait. What are you going to do?”

He hadn’t answered. Instead, he’d gone inside and she’d watched through the window as he raised his arms and addressed the crowd in a voice loud enough for her to hear. “Hey, guys? I’m about to get lucky, but I’m out of condoms. Anyone able to help a brother out?”

She gasped, mortified and shocked, but people responded. Laughing, men and women alike threw condoms at him and when Booth emerged, grinning, he had two handfuls of little square packets.

“I still can’t believe you hit up total strangers for birth control,” she said.

“I was desperate. Plus, I seem to remember, you didn’t exactly refuse to use them.”

He was right. After she’d inspected them carefully to make sure they hadn’t expired or been tampered with, she’d let him put one on, and before the night was over, they’d used three of them.

“Whatever. My point is, you’re not raiding the kitchen. I’m sure if we ask them nicely, they’ll give us some schnapps for the flask. But first things first. I want to get one of the photo shoots under my belt before we have lunch.”

“Okay, lets’ do it. You said you wanted to title it, ‘Hitting the Trail?’”

She nodded.

“I happen to know a great place to take pictures. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Booth carried her camera gear as they headed up the trail that led toward his campsite. He wasn’t taking her to his campsite, obviously, but on his trips back and forth, he’d noticed a place he thought would be perfect for her photo shoot.

The trail meandered along the lakeshore for a bit then headed inland where the trees grew denser, offering a welcome respite from the sun. He looked back often to make sure he wasn’t going too fast and to, well, just look at her. She was too damned beautiful to turn his back on. She’d pulled her long hair into a sassy ponytail that swung with each step. She was taking in the gorgeous scenery as they walked, but one time when he turned to check on her, her cheeks flushed and he wondered if she had been checking out his ass. That thought had him walking a little taller and getting semi-hard too. He wondered if there were any hot springs around, because the idea of Jane naked as the day she was born, immersing herself into steaming mineral water…shit. He could picture her breasts bobbing in the moonlight and tendrils of hair clinging to the nape of her neck and at her temples.

He would cross the pool to get to her, the hot water swirling as he moved through it. She would meet him halfway and wrap her arms around his neck. Those big beautiful breasts would press against his chest and—

“Are we there yet?” she asked.

He quickly ditched the fantasy. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Almost.”

Damn it. He now had a hard-on that was easily visible and no jacket or anything to cover it with. He slowed down even more, not anxious to arrive before his dick got soft again.

At last, they came upon a copse of birch trees. Scattered leaves covered the forest floor and one tree in particular had an unusual root formation above ground.

“It’s not very colorful, but…”

“No, this is perfect,” she said, “I love how monochromatic it is. I’ll stand out more in the picture that way. Let me just set up the tripod.”

“Do you really need it? “ he asked. “I thought I was taking the pictures.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She made a face. “I’m just so used to using it. We should have just left it at the cabin. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She showed him how to work the basics on her camera, knowing she could fix a lot of things with her photo editing program if he botched it.

“Try to put me dead center, to the right or to the left in the frame. You know what I mean? Don’t cut off my head.”

“Okay,” he said, putting his eye to the view finder. She was still talking, but he took the picture anyway. Click.

“If you look on the icon screen, there’s one of a little portrait. That will automatically blur the background so take a couple of those.”

Click. “Gotcha.” Click. Click.

She was gorgeous. Again, he loved looking at her smooth legs, her generous behind, and bountiful breasts. He especially enjoyed her in bossy mode.

“Just remember the idea for this shot is to get the entire outfit. Next, we’ll zoom in on the different parts.”

“Like your bazooms,” he muttered.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing important. Now, stop talking and smile. If you’re talking it messes up the shot,” he said.

She looked a little disgruntled, but composed herself and struck a pose with a half-smile on her face. Click. She did a quarter turn. Click. After a minute or so, she came over to check out the shots on the screen.

“Not bad,” she said.

“Jane, I’ve taken a few pictures in my time. Not with a camera this big, but…”

She gave a little squeak when she came to a close up of her boobs and gave him an accusatory look.

“It was a test shot,” he said with a boyish grin.

“Riiight.”

“The sun’s gone,” she said mournfully.

He looked up at the sky. Large banks of clouds were moving in from across the lake.

“Let’s take those close-up pictures and head back,” she said.

“What about the picnic?” he asked.

“We can picnic closer to camp. I don’t want to get caught out here in a storm.”

“It’s not going to rain.”

Famous last words.

Just as he zipped the camera bag closed, the skies opened up. Jane shrieked and started hustling back down the trail. “I knew we should have quit earlier. We’re going to be soaked by the time we get back.”

He tended to agree. They’d hiked at least a mile.

“Jane, be careful,” he called. “Don’t go so fast. You’re going to slip and fall.”

“My camera is going to get ruined if it keeps coming down like this.”

He looked up again. Where it had been blue before, the sky was now darkly ominous, the air thick and humid.

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Come with me.”

Five minutes later, his campsite came into view. She gasped and glanced at him. “Oh my gosh, you don’t have the Presidential Cabin. You don’t have a cabin at all!”

“Guilty. It may be small, but I guarantee you it’s dry inside.”

He quickly unzipped the entrance and ushered her inside before joining her. She glanced around at his sleeping bag, his backpack and flung her arms out. “I can’t believe you’re living in a tent.”

“Me either, actually. Camping’s not really my thing. As you can see everything’s brand new.”

“Why? Why did you do this?”

He shrugged. “They were all booked up. I was like number thirty on the waiting list. I have dry clothes here. You want to change?”

Her brows snapped together and her mouth was pursed, but she nodded. He pulled out a pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt for her then turned his back.

“No peeking,” she said.

“Scout’s honor.”

“Were you ever a boy scout?”

“No.”

“Then you can’t say scout’s honor. Especially since you’re pretending to be a guest here. Booth, what if you get caught? They could have you arrested for trespassing and theft.”

He heard rustling behind him and tried not to picture her in wet panties and bra. He wasn’t too successful.

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“You ate food that you didn’t pay for.”

“I’m going to pay them when I leave. I brought cash for the full price for a week in a deluxe cabin. It’s in an envelope in my pack.” He turned to pull it out and got a wet shirt thrown at him for his trouble. “I forgot. Sorry.”

“See? Scout’s honor, my ass,” she muttered.

A few moments later, she told him he could turn around. Shit, she looked drop dead sexy in his clothes. The ponytail was dripping, but the shirt clung to her body and he could clearly see the outline of her big nipples. Despite the fact that he wanted to keep gazing on that tantalizing sight, he tore his gaze away.

Although the temperature was still warm, he didn’t like being in sopping wet clothes so Jane faced the corner as he put on dry briefs, shorts and shirt.

Afterward they sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag.

“You actually slept here last night? After dinner, you came here?”

“Yeah. I should have left a lot earlier. It was a little hairy trying to find this place when it was almost dark. I only had this tiny little flashlight.”

Truthfully, he’d been legitimately scared he wouldn’t be able to locate his tent. He’d known he could find his way back to Camp Firefly Falls by heading toward the lake and following the shoreline, but then what? He’d have to have thrown himself on the mercy of the camp directors or tried to sleep in some utility closet somewhere. Luckily, his flashlight lit up the reflective tape on his tent. If it hadn’t been for that, he didn’t think he’d have found it.

“Well, that explains a lot,” she said. “I don’t think I could sleep out here by myself. I’m too much of a chicken.”

“To tell the truth, it was a little freaky. You’d think it would be quiet at night, right? That all the animals are sleeping. Wrong. There’s all kinds of noise. Bugs and crickets. Owls. The leaves and branches on the trees rubbing against each other. The worse part was when some animal came snooping around.”

He told her of how he’d been woken by the unmistakable sound of something scuttling around in the darkness. He’d told himself it was a raccoon or something equally as harmless. An insomniac rabbit, maybe. He’d wanted to turn on his lantern but was afraid to call attention to himself. But did it matter, he wondered? If it was a predator, it could surely smell him.

It’s not a predator, he’d told himself. It’s definitely not a bear.

“Of course, the minute I thought it might be a bear, I became sure it was a bear,” he confessed. “I listened so hard, I think I sprained my eardrums.”

She was laughing, but he didn’t mind. He loved the sound of her laughter. It made him feel lighter. It meant she was having fun.

“Wait,” he said, “it gets better because I swear my brain gets off on messing with me. Did you ever see that movie, The Revenant?”

She shook her head.

“There’s this scene where Leonardo DiCaprio gets mauled by a bear. It was…very gory and very realistic.” He swallowed hard, remembering his fifteen minutes of terror the night before while whatever it was puttering around outside his tent. His only weapon was the mallet he’d used to pound in the stakes. “The bear shakes him like a rag doll, tears into his back with claws that were like paring knives.” He demonstrated with his curved fingers. “Blood everywhere. The guy should have been dead. Anyway, that’s all I could think of the whole time the animal was outside. It was probably only a minute or so but it felt like an hour.”

“That there is karma, buster. You snuck onto the property without permission and this is what happens. Really, it was probably your conscience punishing you.”

“Maybe.” He nodded toward the bag that held the picnic food. “How about we have lunch?”

“Yes. Oh, God, I’m starving.”

They found to-die-for sandwiches made with slices of moist turkey breast, swiss cheese, and a tangy coleslaw. Freshly cut veggies and a delicious herb ranch dipping sauce provided some crunch and for dessert there were cookies the size of salad plates. As they ate, they talked about movies that had scared them. For Jane it was World War Z, all of the Alien movies, and Paranormal Activity. Booth agreed on Paranormal Activity and added The Ring and Sinister to the list.

Despite their macabre conversation, it was cozy in that tent, with the steady patter of the rain on the canvas and just him and Jane, alone together. They did a little more catching up and when he talked about his career, she seemed genuinely glad for him.

“See? I told you you could do it.”

He smiled at her. “You sure did. I still have the ritual, you know. I keep it in my wallet.”

“The ritual?”

“You know…remember when I told you how freaked out I was about the coming year?”

He’d been drafted by the Bruins and to the rest of the world, he was the up and coming goalie, headed for a promising career in the NHL. He’d just come back from an elite hockey summer camp. His parents, family and teachers—hell, the entire community—had sky-high expectations. He should have been on top of the world, proud of what he’d accomplished, excited for the future, and that’s the image he showed to the world. But inside, he was a mess of fear, anxiety, and self-doubt. As soon as hockey season started and he played his first game, they’d see that he wasn’t as good as they thought he was. The team in front of him played so well, he barely had to do anything. No one was going to offer him a scholarship. He’d be the only player in history not offered a scholarship because he’d been drafted by mistake.

If it wasn’t for Jane, he’d have been a basket case. Being with her pushed all the shitty thoughts away. It was easy to focus on her and pretend that their relationship was all that mattered. But when his parents went away for the weekend for their anniversary, Jane told her mom and dad that she was staying with a friend and she and Booth made the most of it. They’d just made love in his bedroom and were enjoying the aftermath.

“So, how was camp?” she asked.

They’d been so hot for each other, there hadn’t been any real conversation after he opened the door and let her in.

It had been different than any of the other hockey summer camps he’d been to as a kid. The coach, Guy Vanderwalt, who worked with him had played for the NHL for eight years as a goalie and the other guys there…they were seriously good. He felt like a poser, but he’d pretended to be one of them.

“Was it awesome? It’d better be, because I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he said. He’d jerked off thinking about being with her when he got some privacy, which wasn’t often considering the fact that they were four in a room.

“Did you learn a lot?”

“Oh, yeah, I learned a ton.” He’d worked as hard as he could to absorb and apply what Vanderwalt taught him. He just hoped he remembered it all when hockey season started again.

“But…” she prompted, lightly caressing his right pec. He felt his dick start to revive.

“But what?”

“I don’t know.” She stopped caressing. “It wasn’t all rainbows and chocolate. I can tell by your voice.”

She was the only one who’d picked up on it. Everyone else, even his mom and dad, thought he’d had a great time.

“I…I just felt like I didn’t belong there.”

She sat up, pulling the top sheet with her to cover her breasts. “What do you mean?”

Feeling restless, he got up and pulled on some underwear. “I’m pretty sure I was the worst goalie there.”

“I don’t believe that. You got drafted. They don’t draft bad players.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m in over my head. I’m going to disappoint everyone—my mom, my dad, you, everyone.”

She got out of the bed and came to him, naked. “No, I do understand. You’re afraid of failure. That happens to a lot of people.” She put her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

“It might be okay, but honestly, it sucks. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to throw up or jump out of my skin. Sometimes, a lot of times, I just want quit. I think about how nice it would be to be like everybody else.”

“But you’re not like everybody else. You have a talent. It’s your choice whether to use that talent or not, obviously, but I think you’re pretty lucky to know what you want to do and be good at it. Most of us have no clue.”

They stood hugging for a long moment and his dick had decided it was time for round two, so they did it again, then went down to the kitchen to eat some of the food his mom had left for him. As the lasagna heated in the microwave, Jane picked the conversation up where it had left off.

“So, I think you just need to relax. You need to find a way to release your anxiety because I’m thinking that the pressure is just going to get worse.”

“Gee, thanks.” He eyed her as he took out the steaming dish from the microwave then handed her a fork. “Dig in.”

Jane took a forkful and blew on it. The cheese stretched out and dangled and when she took the bite, she had to use her tongue to pull it in. If he wasn’t starving, he’d have just sat and watched the show.

“Your mom makes the best lasagna. My mom gets the frozen kind. This is way better.”

“Thanks.”

“So, I’m serious. Go get your computer. Let’s find relaxation techniques. Maybe yoga or meditation.”

“Or hey, maybe crystals or aromatherapy.”

She scowled at him, which made him smile inwardly because she was so fucking cute when she scowled at him—like a tiny kitten hissing at a bulldog.

“I’m trying to help you. There’s no need for the sarcasm.”

“It’s just…come on. Meditation?” He shook his head.

She put her fork down. “Look, do you want to be all macho and just throw up every day or would you rather find a solution even if it seems dumb? You’re too young to be so close-minded.”

He stared at her, hating that she had a point, then scoffed, gave in and ran upstairs to get his laptop.

“For the record,” he said when he’d returned, “having sex with you is a really great way to relieve my anxiety.”

She laughed. “Not only is that not practical, I don’t exist merely to slake your nervous libido.”

“But I guarantee you, it’ll be the most fun solution we come up with.”

Because he had to do his daily workout, he went for a run while she researched ways to relieve his persistent anxiety. When he got back, she must have thought he looked sexy, because he went up to take a shower and she joined him two minutes later. The sex was slippery and satisfying.

Afterward, she showed him what she’d found.

“So there are five steps to this technique and I think we should do them together.”

“Is step one to get naked?”

She gave him a light shove. “Oh my gosh. We just…! No. Step one is to breathe.”

She made him sit on the sofa and taught him how to breathe, deeply and slowly, inflating his stomach and then his chest, holding the breath, and exhaling through pursed lips. In a soft voice, she guided him through relaxing each muscle in his body from his toes and feet all the way up to his face.

“Feeling good?”

“Feeling sleepy.”

“Don’t fall asleep. You have to do step three which is to picture yourself in a place where there’s no stress.”

He opened one eye. “That’s in bed with you. After coming.”

“Okay. The article suggested a secluded beach or a park, but if that’s your happy place…”

“It’s my very happy place.”

She rolled her eyes. “The fourth step to this technique is to get rid of any negative thoughts. So, if you start doubting yourself, thinking you’re not good enough, just…get on your mental Zamboni and just run those thoughts over, turn them into ice.”

He opened his eyes. “That’s a really great idea. You’re so smart, Jane.”

She waved that away. “The last step is to give yourself a pep talk. Tell yourself what you’re going to do, like ‘I will block all the shots.’ ‘I am an outstanding goalie.’ ‘I will remain calm during the game and do what has to be done.’ That kind of stuff. You don’t have to say it out loud. You can just say it in your mind.”

She waited until he opened his eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Surprisingly, I actually feel pretty good.” He sat up. “The real test will be doing all this when I’m all worked up about something.”

“The article I read said to give it a month.”

“I can do that.”

“I need to write this down.”

Jane ended up printing it on an index card for him because his handwriting was shitty. Breathe. Relax. Happy place. Nix the negative. Pep talk.

Now, trapped in the tent by the storm with her, he pulled out that dog-eared little card outlining the ritual he’d started that day and performed before every hockey game ever since. It had permanent creases from where he’d folded it into thirds and put it behind his driver’s license. Even though it reminded him of Jane and when he thought of her, his chest ached like an old, unhealed wound, he never could make himself throw it away.

She looked at him, her expression softening. “You’ve kept it all this time?”