Page 26 of Their Reluctant Catch

Damn it.

I’m about to start my walk back to town, when I jump up to theSea Spiritand get the first aid kit from the cabin.

I pull my gloves back on and release a sigh. There’s no point in hanging around. The best chance I have of finding her is if I start moving.

The problem is, I don’t know where the hell she went.

The path forks in three different directions from here—one leads into the woods toward Blueberry Ridge Trail, another curves along the shoreline, and the last heads back toward town. She would stand out against the sea, if she was taking the shore route. When she’s heading into town, Todd will find her.

Besides, if she wanted a longer walk, she would’ve taken the ridge trail.

That’s where I go.

The first hundred yards are easy, the path well-worn and mostly clear. But as I push deeper into the woods, the ground turns uneven, scattered with roots and patches of frozen earth. The last of the daylight fades, and it’s almost dark between the trees.

I keep walking.

The cold air bites at my skin, but I ignore it. I’m used to it.

As I trudge forward, my focus narrows. My boots crunch over fallen leaves or a twig snaps beneath my feet. I call out her name over and over, and the sound echoes against trees.

Then I see her.

My steps quicken.

Savannah is hunched against the base of a tree, her body curled in on itself as she clutches her head like she’s trying to block something. Her chest rises and falls too fast, her breath coming in short, gasping bursts.

It looks like a panic attack.

Shit.

I crouch in front of her. I don’t know if she’ll recognize me in this state. I keep my movements careful. “Savannah?”

She doesn’t react.

Her eyes are open, but she’s not here.

She’s somewhere else, lost in whatever memory has her trapped.

I don’t touch her. Not yet.

“Savannah.” I keep my voice gentle but firm. “You’re safe.”

Her breath hitches. Her fingers dig into her scalp.

I inch closer, lowering my voice. “You’re not alone anymore. You’re here. With me.”

Still no response.

I could call Todd, but I don’t.

I don’t know why.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want her to feel like she’s suddenly surrounded, like she’s a problem we need to fix.

Or maybe because I want to be the one to pull her out of this.

“Breathe with me.” I match my words to my own slow inhalation. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

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