Except, apparently, lately.
“Hey—kidding.” His shoulder bumped hers, a gentle nudge. “It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. If she really cared about him—and she did, more than was probably smart—she owed him honesty. And just maybe he could help her figure out right from wrong, good from bad.
She opened her mouth, hunting for the right words. “Actually, there’s something?—”
“Can we please take a break?” one of the girls whined from directly behind her. “My feet are killing me.”
Blisters were probably forming in those wet shoes, but dehydration would kill them faster than sore feet.
Liam stopped and surveyed their surroundings. They were getting into the switchbacks. The section of ruthless back-and-forth trails as they left the valley of the canyon behind. The trail widened here, offering several flat ledges big enough for the group to rest safely.
“Okay. Fifteen minutes. But we’re losing more light every minute.”
The teenagers groaned with relief, scattering to claim rocks and level spots, exhaustion written in every line of their young bodies.
Liam set the pack down, settled onto a boulder, patted the space beside him. “What were you saying?”
Right. The gold.
Maybe showing him would be easier than explaining. She lifted her pack, dug deep inside, searching for the cloth-wrapped bar.
Her fingers found something else instead. A damp granola packet she’d forgotten about. She pulled it out, held it up like a trophy.
“Food.”Coward.
His face lit up. “Maybe this’ll give everyone an energy boost.”
They divided the meager rations, passing out portions that wouldn’t satisfy a hamster. And the way the kids’ hands shook as they accepted their share, faces pale with exhaustion—she doubted peanuts and fifteen minutes would solve anything.
Liam’s expression mirrored her concern.
He settled back beside her, their position offering slight shelter from teenage eyes and ears. His voice dropped, barely audible. “We need to stop for the night. We’re moving too slow; light’s fading. The trail’s too narrow for safe travel without proper illumination. And I think we only have one flashlight.”
“The longer we’re in this canyon, the closer the Bratva get.” Her whisper barely stirred the air between them. “If that phone stops moving…”
“I know it’s risky. But so is continuing. They’re weakening. That’s when people make fatal mistakes.”
She leaned closer, caught his scent—sweat and determination and something uniquely him. “We have no food, and tomorrow they’ll be even more dehydrated.”
His jaw went rigid. “I could run out tonight. Hit the rim, bring help back by morning.”
No.
Her chest clamped tight, hand shooting out to grab his wrist. “You can’t leave.”
Selfish.She was beingcompletelyselfish, panicking for no logical reason. But she couldn’t stop the spiral.
Her mother abandoning them in that hotel room. Waking up to just a note after Emberly had run away to join the Swans. Liam disappearing under murky water.
She couldn’t survive another abandonment. Her hands started shaking, white-hot panic flooding every nerve ending. He needed her strong, steady.
Don’t fall apart. Don’t?—
He pulled her against his chest, arms wrapping around her. “I’m here. I won’t leave you. I promise. We’re in this together.”
She melted into his warmth, his strength. Let herself believe, just for a moment, that promises could be kept.
