Page 91 of Trusting Skulls

I spend fifteen minutes trying to coax her to look at me, to speak, but she’s silent.

Fuck, what do I do now?

There is no way I can go back and leave her here like this. The club should be here soon. I trust that they’ll find us.

I’ve got to get to her right now. She must be in shock.

Before I lower myself down beside her, I grab Graham’s bag and toss it over my shoulder.

When I reach the end of the rope, I untie it, landing on my feet. I approach her cautiously, not wanting to startle her. There isn’t much room for error here.

“Lexie?”

She’s trembling.

“Lexie, I’m going to hold you. Is that okay?”

Her head snaps back and forth as she continues to bury her face in her hands. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this,” she repeats.

I’m instantly beside her, pulling her onto my lap. “None of this is your fault,” I tell her.

“I knew it was wrong, but I was so lonely, and when he looked at me, it felt so good.”

At least she’s talking. That’s good. I shrug the bag off my shoulder and scoot back against the rocks, keeping her cradled in my arms.

“He was the first person who noticed me,” she admits softly.

“Lexie, you were a kid. He was an adult. The responsibility to do the right thing was his. He took advantage of you because he knew no one was looking out for you.”

“I didn’t want this,” she cries again.

Her sobs break my heart because I know she doesn’t see it yet, but soon she will. She’ll have no choice but to face this head on.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted. It’s what he wanted. He chose this.”

That’s where our conversation ends. I can’t get her to say anything else, but I do manage to get a granola bar into her and a bottle of water.

I’m fighting sleep when I hear a familiar voice yell out, “Ash! Lexie!”

“The club’s here,” I tell her, scooting her off my lap carefully. “Wake up, hun. They’re here.”

She moans and falls limply to her side. Shit, she’s burning up.

“We’re down here!” I shout back.

A few seconds later, Jackson’s face peeks over the edge. “Thank fuck,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. “I found them! Tell rescue to get down here. We won’t be able to get to them without their help!” he yells.

“Do you need me to throw down some water?” he asks, his face coming back into view.

“We’ve got water, but she’s hurt. I think she broke her ankle. She’s burning up.”

“The cops and every other rescue vehicle you can think of are here. Everyone has been searching for you. Where is he?”

I point down the mountain.

“You got your stories straight?” he asks.

“We’ve got the truth.”

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