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It didn’t matter. The weather was decent—dry at least—and she could simply follow the ruts that served as a road out to the highway. From there…
She didn’t know what she’d do from there. She didn’t actually know where she was. They’d driven a long time the night John had picked her up. Well over an hour from the bus station in Pinecrest. It wasn’t as if she could walk into town, find a phone she could use, and call home to let them know she was okay.
What was she doing out there? She should just go back to the cabin.
But her feet carried her away from her little hideaway in the woods. Her shoes picked up smears of mud as she walked and a lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t stop thinking about the pictures. About John’s friend Andrew. About why John let her drink and gave her drugs.
Was it because he was a cool guy? Or because he wanted her out of it so she’d do things.
What else was he going to ask her to do?
She kept walking, trying to ignore the cold and the nagging feeling that she was going to get in trouble for leaving the cabin. Where was she going to go, anyway? If she made it to the highway, what would she do? Hitchhike again? Why? Why leave the warmth and safety of John’s cabin? She hadn’t even grabbed her backpack.
Still, she didn’t stop. She moved faster.
The road was overgrown, hardly a road at all. Was she still following it? The sound of her heartbeat seemed to echo in her ears. What would happen if she kept going? Would anyone find her? Could she ever get back to civilization?
Did she want to?
The trees grew thicker. There wasn’t room for a car anymore. She must have veered off the road somewhere. Fear was making her stupid and she didn’t even know why she was afraid. John was taking good care of her, she didn’t need to leave.
Too late. Panic had taken over. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t reason her way through what she was doing. She just kept hurrying through the woods, too overwhelmed to stop.
A voice called out and her panic intensified. They were going to catch her. She’d left the cabin and someone else was going to find her. They’d take her home to her parents and they’d never let her live this down. They’d call her an ungrateful whore. She didn’t even know if they’d let her back in the house. She’d be worse off than she was before she’d left. At least out here, she had a place to stay.
She’d made a terrible mistake.
“Brielle!”
Her heart rate skyrocketed. Whoever was out there, he knew. She’d been found and now her safe place was ruined. John would be furious.
“Brielle, wait!”
Her foot caught on something, sending her flying through the air. She hit the ground with a thud. The impact almost knocked the air out of her lungs and she gasped for a breath, her face smashed against the cold, wet pine needles.
She squeezed her eyes shut. No. This couldn’t be happening.
Someone crouched next to her and touched her face. “Kitten. What happened?”
Kitten? Opening her eyes, she looked up.
It was John.
His forehead was creased with worry, no anger to be seen. He took her hands and helped her up.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I don’t know.” She sniffed. Her knees hurt and she wondered if she’d torn her leggings. “I got scared.”
John’s eyes hardened, the soft brown seeming to darken. “Was someone there?”
“No.” She didn’t want to admit to the truth, but she knew from experience that lies were best kept vague. “I thought I heard something and went out to look. I’m sorry I didn’t go back inside. I got scared and I ran.”
“Don’t do that again, kitten. It’s not safe out here.” His dark eyes glinted with a hint of anger. “I told you to stay in the cabin.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He held her in his gaze for a long moment. Panic still gripped her—made her want to run again. But there was something in his eyes that kept her still, almost as if she were being hypnotized.
