One thing about the weather in Virginia—it didn’t stay one way or the other for long. Fall mornings were cold and frost crusted the grass, but by midday, the sun had burned off the chill and warmed up the air. Even beneath the trees in the woods, it grew hot. The tents turned into ovens when the sun crested the sky, and Court sat as far out of his tent as he could, hoping to find some relief. The campfire didn’t help, and Bree usually let it burn down after breakfast, only stoking it when darkness fell and the air turned brisk. Lunch was eaten cold—cereal, or cold rice, or some of the cold chicken left over.
What Court wouldn’t give for a hot, thick slice of pepperoni pizza. Any kind, as long as it was delivery, and as long as it tasted oily and cheesy and decadent going down.
Maybe he m
