Page 31 of Who Let The Wolves Out?

But Jason is everywhere.

The last person in line. Making jokes. Keeping pace with the slower kids. Letting me pretend I don’t see the way he keeps glancing up the trail, toward me.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

I should feel giddy. Hopeful. Warm.

But instead I feel exposed. Raw.

And when I feel raw, I shut down. That’s just how I’m wired.

I’ve never been good at letting people see the whole of me.

Especially the messy parts.

Especially when they’re the ones that matter.

Later, back at the cabins, I’m reorganizing craft supplies that don’t need organizing when Jason finds me again.

He stands in the doorway.

Doesn’t speak.

I keep my back to him, pretending the glitter drawer requires intense focus.

“Alice.”

I close my eyes.

“Can we talk?”

I nod. Barely.

He steps inside, slow.

“I don’t want to crowd you,” he says. “But I need to know if that kiss meant something to you. Because it meant alotto me.”

My throat tightens.

“It did,” I whisper.

“Then why are you shutting me out?”

I press my hands flat to the table. “Because itterrifiesme.”

Jason’s quiet.

“I’m not him.”

That hits harder than anything else could.

“I know,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean I know how to trust myself yet.”

I finally turn to look at him. His face is open, confused, maybe a little hurt.

“I felt...too muchlast night,” I say. “And when I feel that much, I panic. I start doubting if I’m seeing clearly or just projecting what Iwantto believe.”

He takes a step closer. “You don’t have to decide anything today.”

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