“You won’t. Everything’s a game to you,” I hiss as I recall that traumatic moment seventeen years ago when he and his siblings sent me tumbling into the swamp.

“Jesus Sara, I’m not twelve anymore. I said I’ll catch you,” he replies, voice like grit.

“I don’t believe y—” My protests fall short when I feel a slinking sensation on the back of my hand. I turn my head to see a chubby, centipede-like creature crawling across my knuckles.

And I’m screaming again.

I release my hand from the branch, shaking my wrist violently to get rid of the horrid crawly thing. In the process, my body falls back too far, my flailing knocking me off balance. The branches aren’t going to hold. They begin to snap and tear from their roots as I twist in the air and make a leap for the unknown.

The next thing I feel are Jack’s arms catching me to break my fall. He wraps muscled limbs around my waist as we stumble into the jagged wall of the mountain. He plants a hand next to my head, jamming it into the foliage to stop himself crushing into me. His body is flush with mine, his thigh between my legs, his masculine leathery scent engulfing me. I have no idea why I shut my eyes and inhale deeply.

Then, I realize my fingers are twisted into the material of his T-shirt, my hands making fists at his chest. We catch our balance, panting against each other, until…

“Ew, get off me.” I shove him away. “I didn’t need your help.”

His eyes widen. “Are you kidding? You were one fall away from another concussion.”

I brush stray specs of dirt and branches from my leggings as I shake my head. “I can handle myself. Iwillhandle myself, without your help.”

Jack tugs on his bag. “Great, then why don’t you start by looking where you’re going before you have athirdaccident.” He’s about to say more, but his eyes dip to where myhand massages my ankle. I notice him draw in a reluctant breath. “What?”

I frown at the pain.

“My ankle hurts.”

Jack’s brows pull together before he strides off in the opposite direction.

Just as I’m about to remark on his complete lack of sympathy or compassion, he turns on his radio.

I watch as he makes attempt after attempt to call for help, my heart sinking each time he’s unsuccessful.

He looks at me, his bright eyes flashing concern for the first time. “You need a doctor. Who knows what other injuries you sustained when you crashed.”

I want to roll my eyes. I want to tell him that yes, that was usually the protocol after you pull someone from a car wreck. Instead, I glare into the distance, picturing the boy who tortured me all those years ago, and wondering how the hell our paths have managed to cross out here.

“Can you at least walk a little?” he asks.

I give it a try, chewing on my bottom lip as I assess the pain. “I’ll manage.”

“Then we should move. It’s getting too quiet around here,” he says as he looks up at the trees. He’s right, the branches have stopped swaying, and the birds have stopped singing. The whole forest seems to have fallen under a hushed enchantment.

“Is that a problem?” I ask, even though I can already tell by his grave expression it can’t mean anything good.

His eyes flash to the sky, and his gaze appears to cast beyond the canopy of trees overhead. “That’sa problem.”

I look up to witness the sky swirl into a dome of deep purples and grays. The clouds are heavy, swelling like they might burst and flood everything in their wake.

“Could be a storm. I’m serious, we have to move.” He motions for me to follow him, and even though a torrential downpour is very high on my list of things I’m not equipped to deal with out here, I don’t move.

“I’m not coming with you. I told you before, I don’t want to be anywhere near you. I’ll find my own way back.”

Am I being irrationally stubborn? Perhaps.

Is Jack the driving force behind such needless tenacity? Absolutely.

At that precise moment, a stray leaf blows across my feet, causing me to flinch and yelp at the intrusion before attempting to collect myself.

He laughs but oh, there’s no humor in his cold eyes.