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How do Ireallyknow he’s not behind all this?

Just because I saw the men go after him doesn’t mean it couldn’t be part of the plan. Set up Erik as the hero instead of the villain and in the process, convince me to trust him. Then he could lead me anywhere. I mean, I practically begged Erik to take me with him. So if attacking him was a ploy to gain my trust, clearly, it worked.

“Tate?” Erik looks down at me, worry etched into his features. “If you changed your mind, it’s okay. I was thinking, I could probably hoist you into one of the trees. I think you’d be well hidden in there.”

Then he pauses. Frowns. In the same careful way he touched me before, he brushes his thumb across my swollen cheek, so gently it doesn’t hurt. “Are you feeling worse? Dizzier? Any shooting pain? Don’t be afraid to tell me. Please. If you need to lie down, it’s okay. I’ll stay right here with you.”

And there.

That’show I know I can trust him.

Not just by his words, but the look in his eyes. A look that tells me my safety is more important than anything.

It’s in the way he shielded me instinctively with his body when the shots fired.

How kind he was when I woke up, disoriented and in pain, not remembering much of anything.

But it goes back even before that.

To meeting him on my morning hike and just knowing, despite all the warnings I hear about coming across strange men in the woods, that he wasn’t going to hurt me.

To his smile as he invited me in, and the way he immediately gave me an out when he realized it might make me uncomfortable.

To the way he blushed when he mentioned meditation, and how he tried to hide his laughter when I said that silly not-curse in front of him.

Maybe I’m being foolish, listening to my gut instead of my brain. But my gut tells me I can trust Erik. That whatever we’re caught in the middle of, he had nothing to do with it.

“No, I’m okay.” Well. Mostly. Aside from my throbbing head and churning stomach and the fear clawing at me from the inside. But aside from that, I’m great.

Erik raises a skeptical brow, and I amend, “Not worse, at least. But I haven’t changed my mind. Let’s go. Wherever you think is best.” I glance up at the sky, trying to remember what I learned back in elementary school about using the sun as a compass. “Um. Do we want to head in any particular direction?”

“I think west,” he replies. “No reason other than to be consistent. I’m hoping we find a stream to follow. Or a hill that’ll give us a better view.”

“Okay.” I slide my hand into his outstretched one. His fingers curl around mine in a firm but gentle grip. “Okay.”

But as he starts to tug me clear of the cover of trees, my feet don’t want to move.

In this little copse of pines, I can pretend we’re safe. That no one can see us. But the instant we get back into the open…

Erik glances back at me with brows raised in concern. “Tatum?”

Crud. I’m the one who said I wanted to go. Why am I chickening out now?

“Yes.” I force my feet to move, feeling a bit like an uncoordinated puppet with its strings half cut. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

But I’m not good.

Not at all.

With each step further into the woods, my fear grows even more.

I can barely hear anything above the jackrabbiting beats of my heart.

IknowI need to be quiet, but it’s hard to control my panicked breaths. I try to use the different techniques suggested in my meditation app, but none of them seem to work. All they accomplish is making me more lightheaded and dizzy than I was already.

My hand is locked around Erik’s, sweat slicking my grip. I’m terrified I’ll lose hold of him and somehow get left behind, so I dig my nails into his skin for insurance.

In comparison to me, Erik looks enviably confident. He walks with purpose, every step sure. His gaze is on a swivel, taking everything in.