She lets out a ragged, trembling exhale, her eyes squeezing shut as a single tear slips down her temple, cutting through the dirt on her skin.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe out, the adrenaline crashing through my system like a tidal wave.
My left arm gives out. I collapse to the side, rolling off of her and out of her body, landing hard on my back against the rough twine of the hay bales. I stare up at the corrugated tin roof, my chest heaving as I try to pull oxygen back into my burning lungs. I jerk my pants upward and rebutton them.
“He was right there,” Rue whispers, as she tugs her jeans back on. “He knows a lot about the stolen car.”
“Maybe, but he doesn't know we’re in his barn,” I counter, though my voice lacks its usual steady edge. I reach down, zipping up my jeans with trembling, clumsy fingers.
The reality of how close we just came to getting caught—or shot by a Texas farmer protecting his property—settles over me like a suffocating blanket.
“We can't stay here,” Rue says, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks tiny in the shadows, fragile and entirely consumed by the nightmare I dragged her into. “If he comes back to jump the tractor...”
“Yeah, but he’s gone right now, and this is our chance to take a look around. If we can get into his place, we can maybe get some direction...”
Rue stares at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The lingering haze of our intimacy is completely gone, replaced by the stark, terrifying reality of the hunt. “What if there’s someone else there? At his house?”
“Then I guess we’ll deal with it then. You stay in here, and I’ll go check it out.” I reach across the small gap between us, gripping the back of her neck with my good hand and pulling her forward until I can plant a kiss on her forehead.
And then I slip out of the barn.
32
RUE
My stomach lurchesthe moment Noah slips through the crack in the heavy metal door and disappears.
I pull my knees to my chest, shivering as the freezing morning air finally cuts through the lingering heat of our bodies. The smell of dry alfalfa and dust clings to my clothes, mixed with the musky, heavy scent of Noah’s sweat and our shared release.
Just minutes ago, I was completely consumed by him, entirely willing to let the world burn down around us as long as his hands were on me.
Now, sitting alone in the dark rafters of a stranger’s barn, the reality of what I’ve become settles heavily over my shoulders.
Where did it all go so wrong?
My mind spirals backward, past the stolen New Mexico SUV, past the wrecked Pathfinder in the ditch, past the freezing, black waters of Moccasin Lake. It goes all the way back to the woods. ToMatthew.To the blood on my hands and the sheer, blinding panic that made me let my father point the finger at the boy who had done nothing but try to protect me.
I should’ve made him call the police. But hewasthe police.
Even still, I thought moving to California would fix it. I thought building a quiet, mediocre life in a tiny studio apartment in Los Angeles would somehow wash the blood away. But all it did was turn me into a ghost haunting my own life.
Beside me, Bullet lets out a sharp, high-pitched whine.
I flinch, my hands immediately flying out to cup the beagle’s snout. “Shh… Bullet, quiet,” I hiss into the darkness, my heart slamming against my ribs.
He whines again, pawing restlessly at the scratchy twine of the hay bale before climbing up into my lap. He’s tired, he’s hungry, and he’s confused.
“I know, buddy. I know,” I whisper, my breathing growing shallow, as he licks the side of my face.
The barn feels so freaking large, and the shadows too long. Without Noah’s massive frame beside me, without the steady, grounding rhythm of his breaths, I feel like I’m untethered, floating away into the pitch black.
And a sudden, violent wave of desperation crashes over me.
What if Bill came back? What if Noah got caught outside? What if he just... left?My chest tightens so painfully that I can barely pull in oxygen.
I need him. I need his dark, icy stares and his rough hands. I need the way he barks orders at me, because at least when he’s bossing me around, I know exactly what I’m supposed to do. I have completely lost my compass, and without Thomas Noah Peterson, I am nothing but a terrified girl hiding in the hay.
Just as the panic threatens to boil over into a sob, the heavy metal door below groans on its tracks.
