Time and memory are odd things. While the days after The Domino and before coming to the lake seemed to stretch on, with memories of the explosion haunting me whether awake or asleep, the days after my first kiss with Hunter pass by at a speed I want to slow down. Entire hours evaporate when we're together, even when we're just relaxing by the water or taking the pedal boat out on the lake.

Happiness does something to bend time. Two weeks go by in a blur, each day filled with laughter, fun, and new things to explore. Last week Mom and I went with Hunter, Paisley, and their parents to dig amethyst out of the ground from an open pit at the mine. Once back at the cottage, covered in dirt from head to toe, I jumped from the dock into the lake in my tank top and cutoffs and pulled Hunter in with me, giddy and giggling the entire time. Then there were yesterday's stolen moments of making out while Mom was gone on a quick trip to the convenience store at the highway truck stop.

The days here have almost made me forget what life was like before this summer. I fall asleep each night listening to loons call to each other in the distance and wake up each morning with birds chirping outside of my window. I hardly remember when kissing Hunter hello and goodbye wasn't a part of every day.

Dr. Delacruz picks up on my change in mood during a video therapy session the next day. It's the first one we've had since I arrived at the lake. I didn't want to keep the appointment since sleeping has become much easier these last couple of weeks and I haven't thought much about The Domino, but Mom insisted I talk to her.

Dr. Delacruz listens to me prattle on about how much better things are than the last time we spoke, and how this vacation is exactly what I needed. I expect her to be proud of my major step forward, but that's not how she responds.

"I'm a little concerned." She taps the eraser end of a pencil against her cheek and peers at me as best as she's able to on a computer screen.

"You're concerned that I'm happy?" I wonder if I look as bewildered as I sound.

"Not exactly. I'm glad you've found a routine that makes you happy, but I'm concerned you're hyper-focusing on your new relationship to avoid processing what happened. I want to make sure you're working through the grief and trauma and aren't subconsciously pretending it doesn't exist."

It's a punch in the gut, and her assessment seems unfair. Even if I am somehow blocking things out without knowing it, being well-rested and in good spirits should be encouraging signs, not alarming ones. Debating her concerns is probably a one-way ticket to extra sessions, though, so I give her my word that I'll reflect on this. Our conversation can't end soon enough today.

"How did things go?" Mom asks once I emerge from my bedroom.

"Fine for a therapy session, I guess." I put the laptop on the table in front of her. She can have it.

"Sawyer texted me about twenty minutes ago with some news for you. Why don't you read it?"

She picks up her phone and taps at it a couple of times, then hands it to me. Sawyer's message is open on the screen.

Hi Julia! How are you and Deni doing? I start the Canadian part of the tour this weekend, out in Vancouver. Can you tell Deni that we added a date at a music festival close to where you are? It's in Thunder Bay in a week and a half. I'm sure Deni won't want to come to the show for a bunch of reasons, but it would be great to see her and hang out while I'm there.

"They're coming here?" My voice is an octave higher than what's usual for me. If Sawyer and his band are coming here, then Bowie and his band are also coming here.

This is the last place I want to run into people who know me right now, Sawyer aside. There's too much at stake if my identity is outed to the wrong person. Plus, Sawyer will rake me over the coals for not telling Hunter about my music alter ego yet, especially if he finds out we're officially dating.

"To the city, at least," Mom says. "Don't you want to see Sawyer? I thought you'd be excited about the news."

It's hard not to flinch with guilt. I haven't thought about Sawyer much since our conversation a couple of weeks ago, which makes me a horrible best friend.

"Of course I want to see him," I reply. "It needs to be just him, though. I want to stay far away from the music festival and Bow-- well, you know."

The close call with mentioning Bowie's name elicits a dark look from Mom. "I do know. It might be better if Sawyer visits you out here, if he has enough time. I'll ask what his schedule is."

My idea is more to meet up with him somewhere in the city that's far away from his band members, Bowie, and Bowie's band. Sawyer coming to the lake means a decent chance of us running into Paisley and Brooke, and they would recognize him. My fans know who Sawyer is.

Mom's phone chimes again. She reads the screen and relays the message there. "Sawyer says he gets here late that morning and then has load-in and sound check. He doesn't think he'll have more than three or four hours between that and needing to be at the festival."

"It doesn't make sense for him to drive out here, visit, and go back to town with that little time." I hope I'm doing a good job of hiding how relieved I am.

"It doesn't sound like it. What do you want me to tell him? Do you want to meet up with him in town?"

A knock at the door saves me from having to make a decision, at least for the moment. "Let me think about it," I tell her.

Hunter, bless him, has come bearing baked goods again. The aroma of blueberries and sugar wafts inside the instant I open the door. Alfie must smell the food because he races over, yipping with excitement.

"It's blueberry muffins this time," Hunter says before I can ask. "My mom has been baking since early this morning."

"If she keeps plying us with baking, we may never go home," Mom jokes.

"You've caught on to her plan. I know I'm in favor of it." Hunter holds my gaze while he speaks, and his fingertips brush against mine when I take the container from him.

"Seriously. Where are we going to get these after we go back?" I open the container and take out a still-warm muffin.

"Before I forget, I'm supposed to tell you there's a party at the Reid's camp down the road on Friday night and you're both invited. It's the one with the blue siding that's five lots over from my place."

Mom's face lights up at Hunter's invitation. "That sounds like fun."

"Want to go for a walk with Alfie and me?" I ask him. It's my not-so-subtle way of getting us away from parental supervision and the muffins I might eat five more of if we stay. Alfie's ears perk up at his name.

"Of course I do. Alfie is my main fur-dude." He bends down to scratch Alfie's ears.

We've almost made it out the door when Mom remembers what we discussed before Hunter showed up. "Should I tell Sawyer you're thinking about it and will have an answer later?"

"Yes, please," I say, and then I escape outside. Hunter is a few steps ahead since he's holding the leash and Alfie practically pulled him out here. I pray he wasn't paying attention to Mom's question.

No such luck. "Who's Sawyer?" he asks.

"My best friend from L.A. Mom is the go-between for our messages while we're out here since I don't have my phone."

I send telepathic pleas to the universe for Hunter not to ask what Sawyer wants an answer about. Someone up there must like me, because he doesn't mention him again and instead chooses the subject of my phone privileges to comment on.

"We really need to work on getting your phone back. I know you haven't told me the full story about why your mom took it away."

"I can't spill all my secrets at once," I tease. "I have to save something in case we end up playing truth or dare again at another party."

"Always take the dare. Good things can happen." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and I lightly slug him on the shoulder in response. "Speaking of parties, you should bring your guitar to the one at the Reid's camp. There's usually some kind of bonfire singalong that happens."

That's a whole lot of nope, because my guitar isn't going anywhere beyond my cottage walls. Even if Hunter knew everything, Paisley and Brooke would recognize the guitar and so could someone else at the party. It's too risky.

"I broke a string when I was playing last night." I hope the sad face I make passes for regret and that he doesn't detect this is a lie. "I need to visit a music store the next time I'm in town and get another set. I don't think we plan to go before the party."

"That's too bad. I want to hear you play and sing again." The disappointment in Hunter's voice makes me want to fling my arms around him and kiss him from now until the stars come out, which I'm sure we'd have no problem doing if Alfie wasn't with us.

"How about a private concert once I get new strings?" I suggest.

He brightens. "I would love a private concert. Does this mean you'll write a song for me now?"

"You're back to that, are you?" I wind my arms around his neck and kiss the tip of his nose. "Be careful what you ask for, or I could spend the day rhyming words with 'adorable.'"

Hunter has no idea what kind of chaos would take over his life if I did write a song for him and it got out to my fans. Some of them are pro-level at scrutinizing my lyrics and enjoy putting each word under a microscope, particularly when a song seems as though it has to do with love or a guy. They wouldn't stop until they identified who he is and knew every last detail about his life.

"How about 'incorrigible'?" he asks.

He lowers his head over mine and I forget where we are the moment his teeth graze my bottom lip. Kissing him has become a daily addiction, and I don't know what I'm going to do when we're separated by thousands of miles. I don't want to think about that now, though. Not when we still have half the summer ahead of us, which is a few more weeks of getting to do this every day.

My hands wander of their own free will, first down his back, and then slipping under his T-shirt where they roam over his bare skin. Hunter's arms pull me in even closer to him, if that's possible. His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, where he leaves a trail of kisses up to my earlobe, and then along the side of my neck. I don't know how we're both still standing and keeping our balance right now.

"Should we bring Alfie back home and then find somewhere to continue this?" The husky tone of Hunter's voice sends electric sparks through me.

"You just read my mind." I press my lips to his collarbone.

"It's a skill I'm trying to master. Soon I'll know everything about you, including that whole phone thing." He winks at me before loosening his hold around my waist.

It's a joke, but it's the proverbial splash of cold water I need to return to my senses and remind myself that he will, in fact, know everything about me soon. I promise myself then and there that I'll spend tonight figuring out exactly what to say, including how to ask him to keep my secret from Paisley and everyone else for a while longer. He needs to know, and it has to be before Sawyer and Bowie get to town, even if the investigation into who Dallas might have been working with isn't over.

There's still a risk of him saying something by accident that would clue in Paisley to who I am, but Hunter deserves the truth. He also deserves to hear it from me before there's any chance of someone else tipping him off.