Andie looked at the girl, a girl she’d never know, as Chase pointed out, and she felt a sudden sadness in her chest for the heartbreak she would undoubtedly be subjected to sometime in the near future.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Chase came up the side of the hill and sat down beside her. He held the camera to his eye, taking a few pictures of the lighthouse from their vantage point before he put the lens back on and gently placed it in the grass beside them. He mimicked Andie’s posture then, leaning back on his hands and supporting his weight in his arms, tilting his head back to allow the sun to warm his face.

“Thank you. For stopping here,” he said after a moment, turning to look at Andie with one eye squinted against the sunlight.

She smiled softly. “You’re welcome, but I should really be thanking you.”

He brought his hand to his brow, shielding the sun so he could look at her fully, and Andie felt her stomach flip in a way that forced her to pull her eyes from his.

She turned, looking over the horizon, but she could still feel his eyes on her.

“I wish I could shoot you right now,” he said.

Andie arched her brow as she turned toward him. “Well, that’s nice. I thought we were past all that.”

Chase threw his head back and laughed. “Oh my God,” he said, holding his stomach. “I meant I wanted to photograph you.”

“Oh,” she said softly. She could feel the blush burning on her cheeks as he laughed again, and she looked over to see him leaning back on his elbows, shaking his head and smiling.

“Why do you want to photograph me?”

He turned to look at her. His smile was more appreciative than amused now, and he dropped his eyes, looking her over before bringing them back to her face. He tilted his head, and Andie felt like he was analyzing her. Like he could see right through her.

Like she was completely exposed beneath his stare.

There was a tiny flicker of panic in her chest, telling her to turn away. To pull back.

To shield herself.

But she fought the urge, watching him watch her, and much to her surprise, the tiny warning faded, and in its wake came a thrill that ran through her, making her heart beat a bit faster in her chest.

It made no sense, but sitting there with him, letting him pull her apart and piece her back together, felt strangely empowering.

“You look new right now,” he finally said.

“New?”

He nodded. “Like you just discovered yourself.” Andie felt something jolt through her veins as he added, “It’s hard to explain, but I wish you could see it. It looks good on you.”

Her stomach twirled as she pulled her eyes from his, studying the blade of grass she held in her fingers.

“Shoot you,” he said through a laugh. “And what do you mean, we’re past all that? Does that mean you wanted to shoot me yesterday?”

Andie closed her eyes and laughed softly. “No, not shoot you. Maybe just…forget you at one of the rest stops before getting back on the highway.”

He burst out laughing again, and she smiled, looking up at him.

“Thanks for fighting the urge. Who knows how long I would’ve had to walk these highways before Uncle Bobby came to save me,” he said, leaning back on his elbows again. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes, smiling to himself.

Andie watched him for a moment before she said, “I’m sorry about all that.”

Chase shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m an acquired taste. I’m fully aware of that. You were just being candid. You don’t pull any punches. I like that about you.”

She smirked. “You only like it because you don’t have a filter either.”

“Well, I guess we have something in common then. You must be horrified.”

Andie laughed softly as she closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sun.

“Don’t ever apologize for being you, Andie.”

She opened her eyes and turned to him. He was looking at her, and there was such conviction and sincerity in his expression that Andie felt like she was going to break under the weight of it. Before she could react, he broke eye contact as he laid back against the grass, looking up at the sky.

Andie turned from him; her heart was thrumming in her chest again, and she felt like she might burst with whatever was surging through her body. She didn’t know what this feeling was, but could tell that if she let herself go, if she relinquished her control and let herself get lost in it, it would feel incredible.

She inhaled a slow breath as she scanned the horizon, trying to bring herself back down from the unexpected high his simple words triggered, and her eyes landed on the same couple from earlier as they exited the lighthouse, the girl still clinging to the boy who was a million miles away.

“Were your parents ever happy?” she asked, hoping a little too late that she wasn’t opening a conversation that would upset him.

“I don’t know,” he said casually, squelching her fears. “Are yours?”

Andie sighed. “I don’t know.” She sat up straight, watching her fingers comb through the grass. “How is that possible? We’ve lived with these people. How can we not know?”

Chase sat up beside her. “Because we judge people by our own standards of happiness.” He plucked a small stone from the ground in front of him before he lifted his eyes to the horizon, nodding his head in the direction of the people walking around. “What makes you happy might not make that woman over there happy. But human beings have a terrible habit of thinking they know what’s best for each other.” He tossed the rock away from him with a sigh and laid back against the earth, clasping his hands behind his head.

He closed his eyes, and before Andie even had a chance to consider his words, he spoke again.

“When I was in high school, my dad was participating in this Doctors Without Borders thing going on in Costa Rica, and my mom and I ended up going with him. I was fourteen at the time, and I remember thinking, ‘This is fucking awesome. I’m getting pulled out of school to go sit on a beach in Central America.’”

He smiled, his eyes still closed. “Obviously, we didn’t spend our time there on the beaches. The first day we got there, we were driving on these unpaved roads through these pathetic little towns. I mean, these houses, Andie, half of them didn’t even have doors. They looked like they’d fall over if you breathed near them. It was just like those commercials you see on television: little kids playing with sticks in mud puddles, dressed in rags. And I felt so bad for them, for the shitty way they lived, for their horrible lives.”

He turned his head toward her, opening his eyes. “But you know what? Those people, the ones in the town we stayed in, they were the happiest people I’d ever met in my life. Always smiling, or singing, just getting through their day with whatever they had. And they had nothing, but they’d give you the sorry excuse for a shirt off their backs if you needed it.” He shook his head. “I know people worth seven figures who aren’t as generous as these people were.”

He turned his eyes back to the sky. “I say they had nothing, but they had nothing by my standards, things my fourteen-year-old brain couldn’t fathom existing without. They didn’t have televisions or DVD players, or books, or nice clothes, or phones. But they didn’t give a shit. They were fine without those things. They had food, and shelter, and with the help of the program, medical care. And that was all they needed.”

He closed his eyes again. “I still have some pictures I took when I was down there. At the time I was just using some cheap disposable camera, but there’s this picture of one of the women from the town, and she’s sitting in front of a small pond with her son on her lap. This woman’s smile,” he shook his head slightly, “it’s one of the most genuine smiles I’ve ever seen. It’s not tinged with vanity, or manipulation, or desire. It’s just…happiness. Pure happiness.” He sighed softly. “It’s probably the most beautiful picture I’ve ever taken.”