And I want to be there. With her.
I shut my eyes, and then run my hands over my face. I catch a whiff of Rue, and pause, inhaling. I might as well enjoy it, because it might be the last time.
Especially if Marshals are involved.
My jaw tenses as I mull it all over, everything from the moment I walked out of prison to this moment right here. It hasn’t even been that long.
But it feels like forever.
I stay where I am, half-swallowed by shadow, watching for a few beats longer. I imagine the sounds of the house while Rue does her thing, the way the pipes probably knock, floorboards creak, and the low hum of electricity drifts through the walls like a steady pulse. Those are normal, everyday sounds.
The kind that don’t belong to me anymore, and probably won’t ever.
If I don’t go back to prison, life might always look like this–hiding and running.
I turn away from the house and head deeper into the woods, putting distance between me and the warmth I don’t get to keep. My boots find the ground without sound. I don’t rush, but I don’t linger either.
I let my brain empty out as I angle down toward the ravine. The air temperature drops fast as I descend, cooler and damp, the earth closing in around me like it knows what I am—a man who needs to disappear. The walls rise on either side, dirt and roots and rocks, just narrow enough to hide me if anyone isn’t looking too hard.
My camp waits where I left it, tucked under the rock overhang where Rue and I built our cave. It’s invisible unless you know exactly where to look. I stop short and scan the area, eyes adjusting, muscles tight, every instinct screaming to be careful.
But I think of Rue, and the way the Marshals left.
Relief loosens something in my chest, but only a fraction. I reach into my backpack and fish through the contents. When my hand closes around the matches, I stop myself.
Firewould besmart. Fire would cut the cold, and make the night feel less endless. Fire would make me feel human, but…
Fire would also make me visible.
Fuck.I exhale slowly through my nose and slide the matches back into my bag.Not tonight. I can’t risk anyone poking around, and I’m not done with Rue. I have more to say. I have more answers to demand. My lust got the best of me.
I settle against the rock, pulling my knees up and letting the cold soak straight into my bones. I tip my head back, listening to the quiet. I can hear the faint slap of water and the occasionalnight bird calling overhead. My mind drifts to the man I threw over the bluff and into the lake.
It rips the peace right out of the night.
I killed someone. Now Rue and I are even.
We have more in common. I close my eyes, as her voice echoes in my head. I picture the way her expression softened when she said she didn’t want it to be over. The way worry flashed across her face when she warned me about someone else in the woods.
Maybe she still cares about me.
And that might be more dangerous than the Marshals. It’s way more terrifying than prison. And now that I’ve seen it and felt it, I’m not sure if I can forget it and keep running.
I don’t want to leave her… But I can’t keep her either.
And I can’t fucking trust her.
19
RUE
Letters.He sent me letters.
The thought sticks, as I help my mom from the wheelchair and into the bed, pulling up the covers around her. I drag the wheelchair back, way out of her reach, and then fold my arms across my chest.
“You said you keep the mail that I get here?”
Mom eyes me, pretending to act exhausted by my question. “Yeah, I do. I told you I did.”
