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We should have died right there in that crash, and yet we were walking away. . .

Together.

Chapter Five

Emery

“Ican't keep going, I need to sit and rest.” Huffing under my breath, my feet slowed as I placed my hand on my chest and checked the rate of my heart.

It was beating so fast, working way harder than it should be to keep me going. All I wanted to do was take a short break, my body needed it.

“We don't have time for that,” Porter said, keeping his head facing forward, eyes set on the horizon. “We need to get off the road, it's not safe.”

“Not safe? I figured you're the one I should be afraid of.” Chuckling, I groaned as my lungs expanded a little too far, causing the bones in my chest to shift and pop.

Growling, Porter flashed me an angry frown. “You think you're funny, but you're not. I have enough to worry about, I don't need this shit. I'm not even sure how the hell I'm going to explain having you with me.”

Stopping, I bent over and grabbed my knees, listening to him ramble on and on about a man he hated, who had ruined his life and destroyed everything he touched.

Watching Porter, he seemed to be oblivious of the fact that I wasn't beside him as he continued to walk the moonlit road, mumbling gibberish to himself.

I was trying to make sense of his behavior, trying to understand why he would go back to someone he seemed to despise.

“Then why are you going back?” The night air carried my voice easily as it echoed off surrounding trees. “Why go back to something you hate?”

His body came to a halt, head ticking over his shoulder. The hard angles of his jaw shone under the silver sky, his jet black hair turned dusky blue as strands fell into his eyes.

Porter had this look to him that made my toes curl and my heart beat faster. He looked devious and dark, he looked hard and confident. But his eyes, the way they glossed with fire and smoldered with pain; he was a man with a past.

“I'm not going back to him, but I can't just run away either. I did that already; no more running, never again.” Rocking his jaw back and forth, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Come on, keep walking.” Stiffening his shoulders, his arms hung by his sides as he turned his back to me and started forward.

There was something in what he said, a feeling, a hatred, a subtle hue of meaning that I didn't and might not ever understand. I watched his face as the words took shape, his voice seething, wanting an end to whatever the fuck he had landed in, but not sure how to get there.

And as I stood there, debating if I should follow him into the darkness or sit still and tread the water still holding me hostage, I knew whatever his issue was, it really had nothing to do with me.

I'm not doing this.