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A squirrel scampers up a tree right beside me, making me jump. We both laugh and Leo says, “You’re not going…”

But I can’t make out the rest of his words. It’s as though I’ve plunged to the bottom of a pond and he’s still above it, talking to me through five feet of water.

Blood pounds in my skull and rushes in my ears. Above me and behind me, to my right and my left, walls of blackness close in. I can’t see and I can’t hear. But I can feel. Terror grips my heart with sharp claws and dread collapses in on me, crushing my lungs and bones. A scream sticks in my throat.

I flail and claw, grasping for purchase. For help. For one last breath.

I’m going to die. Dear god, I don’t want to die!

Hands sink into the tender flesh under my arms.

Pull me out! Help me! I don’t want to die.

I cling to my rescuer as my feet leave the ground. “It’s okay,” he says, my body jostling in his arms. “I’ve got you.”

Leo .

The panic falls away fast, like water cascading off the face of a rock. I can breathe and see and hear. The sun shines through the treetops and the breeze rustles the leaves. I’m safe.

Leo sinks to the ground, clasping me tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t…I thought…”

I hear my own voice, like it belongs to someone else. “What happened?”

He shakes his head as he gazes over me at the path. “We were walking and talking and then you just…collapsed. It was like you were drowning.”

“Drowning?”

He presses a warm hand to my cold face. “Look at me.” I do, and find a storm in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

As I huddle in his lap, my confusion subsides and the past few minutes come roaring back. “It was awful.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself closer.

His grip tightens across my back. “You’re okay now.”

It’s warm in the crook between his shoulder and his neck, and his scent—of leaves, and books, and pinecones—soothes me. I try to explain what I experienced, but I find it difficult to express. Terror is the one word I come back to, again and again.

I feel Leo’s throat bob and hear his deep swallow. He says, voice heavy with remorse, “There was a bad accident down here, but I thought…I thought it had happened further back. I thought we’d avoided it.”

An accident? “What? Where?”

“On the railway.”

It takes me a second, but I finally catch on. “You mean there was an accident a hundred years ago?”

He nods. “I assumed it was at the depot, back there in the town, but I guess it wasn’t.”

“What happened?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want to know.

“There’s not a lot of information about it, but from what I’ve read, it sounds like some workers were trying to secure a train car of timber, and the ropes broke or slipped or something.” Leo sucks in a breath. “All I know for sure is that seven men were crushed to death.”

Under an avalanche of logs.

Holy shit.

I stare out at the path, convinced that if I blink, I’ll see those workers. Or the logs tumbling from the train car. I imagine the shouts of the bystanders, the terrific thunder of twenty tons of wood hitting the earth and splashing into the river.

I imagine the terror of those seven men. What they must have felt during those eternal seconds between the first falling log and the end of their lives. The sudden darkness, the desperate panic, the dread. Those long, agonizing seconds of pain and struggle, knowing they were going to die.

Shock pulses from my chest to the crown of my head.

It can’t be.

I push against Leo’s chest until he lets me go.

“Betts—”

Wobbling to my feet, I make straight for the path, for that exact spot where the horror consumed me.

Leo snatches my wrist. “Don’t go back there.”

“Why not?” I retort, raging against the chaotic confusion inside me.

“Their energy is there. That’s what you felt.”

No, it’s not . I wrench free. I’ll prove it.

“Betts, don’t,” he hisses, grabbing my upper arm.

“I have to.” I pull him along with me, ignoring his protests. He tugs back until I wince, then he lets go. Unhindered, I hurry for the ditch, stumble into it, and walk. Three steps, four steps, five steps.

See? Nothing. No horror, no dread, no…

Panic bursts inside me like hot lava, buckling my knees.

“Betts!” Strong arms yank me off the path, holding me tight around my middle.

“Let me go!”

Leo growls, “No way.”

“I need to go back.” Doesn’t he understand? I might have to walk through that invisible sinkhole of terror a thousand times before I’ll believe it exists. Or before I believe that I can feel it.

I twist, but I can’t break his hold. With one arm, I reach for the site of the energy. Like a kid paying with fire, I get closer and closer to the heat, daring it to burn me. Could I feel the workers’ horror in my fingers alone?

“Betts, don’t. Please!” Leo wrangles my arms. “Don’t put yourself through that again.”

I argue with him as he drags me away. “It’s not real. It can’t be.” The graveyard I could handle, but this , this is just too much.

“Betts.” He brings us to a halt and grips me by the shoulders. “It is real. I know you don’t want it to be, but it is.” He brushes a thumb under my eyes.

Good god, am I crying? Why am I crying? I bury my face in his shoulder and wipe my wet cheeks on his coat.

It’s real . Like walking through the draft from an open window, Leo and I passed right through the energy of those men’s fear.

And I felt it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pulling me close. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but it still did.” When I go limp in his arms, he sighs. Stroking my hair, he whispers against my temple, more than once, “I’m so sorry.”

I want to crawl inside him and hide.

Neither of us seems willing to let the other go. Hours could pass, other hikers could go by, the sun could set, and I wouldn’t notice any of it. All I’m aware of is him. In his cocoon, I’m safe from the ugliness out there. From the frightening emotions .

From the truth about myself.

“I can’t do this, Leo. I don’t want to be psychic.”

“I know.” He smooths my tangled hair from my face and cups my cheek. “But you can get control of it. I promise you I’ll help you. Whatever it takes.”

Footsteps clomp on the bridge nearby, startling us. We jump out of our embrace and look everywhere else but at one another. As several hikers pass by, one woman checks Leo out. When she flashes me a grin and a wink, I start giggling. And then I can’t stop.

By the time Leo returns from collecting our stuff off the ground, he’s chuckling too. “Easier to let them think we were being naughty,” he says with a shrug.

Yeah, try explaining to strangers what really happened to me.

There’s something pale pink in Leo’s hand. I touch my bare head. “When did I lose my hat?”

“I don’t know, but here—” He gently pulls it down on my head, leaning back to assess his work and making adjustments until it’s properly positioned.

“Thank you.”

His smile is tender. “You’re welcome.”