Page 194 of Three Reckless Words

Oh, this is bad.

The kind of hanging over the edge of a cliff bad that has me scrubbing at my face to dislodge the fear, the confusion.

Even my breathing feels erratic.

I wince and clear my parched throat, wishing I had the words to curse the people who put me here.

Holden.

My stupid parents.

Archer.

No, not him. He might’ve trampled my heart, but at least he had reasons that aren’t completely selfish.

Mostly, I want to curse myself.

There’s a deep ringing in my ears, and I suck in a long breath. Then another. No matter how much I breathe, I can’t shake the weird buzzing sound that only amplifies.

Am I on the verge of passing out?

Groaning, I push myself up, hugging the tree for support.

Come on, one, two.

One, two.

One little step at a time.

I’m plodding along like a drunken camel, but at least I’m plodding.

If I just keep on going in one direction, one shaky step at a time, Ishouldreach the edge of the forest eventually.

Logically, that makes sense.

A Hail Mary that gives me just enough hope to bargain with the universe.

“I don’t want to die,” I rasp. Ridiculous, sure, but I have this weird urge to hear my own voice. “How do you think Archer would feel?”

My heart twists, thinking about him and Colt both.

If I never make it out of here alive, they’ll beat themselves up forever.

Archer, he’ll blame himself for chasing me out here, an unforgivable failure when all he ever wanted was to protect me.

And Colt, being the sweetie that he is… he’ll never get over being the last person to talk to me. He’ll think he could have saidsomethingto put the brakes on my stupidity.

Even poor Lyssie, the unlucky recipient of my last dumb joke.

I can’t give up.

I can’t give up for them because fighting for myself isn’t enough.

I just wish my throat didn’t feel like I’ve gargled half the Sahara, but the pain screamsI’m still in this.

“Come on, pick yourself up. You’re gonna live. You’re going to survive. You have to,” I whisper. My knees aren’t playing ball, so I crawl forward, falling over a few times until my nails dig into the dirt.

I’ll never clean it out at this rate, but they’re half-destroyed, anyway, chewed to bits.

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