Jack’s large body is still curled protectively around mine, and I peer over my shoulder at the canyon I nearly sacrificed myself to. A shaky breath follows a hard swallow.
“That…that could have been a lot worse,” I rasp and force out a laugh.
His hands move, every inch of his palms making very intentional contact as they slide away, unsure about letting go. He steps back, his whole body suddenly rigid. The man looks like he’s been dumped with a bucket of ice. He pulls off his hat, revealing that Superman curl while his other hand flexes, fingers spread wide before forming a fist. He catches my frown, forcing his handto relax.
“Are you injured?” I question.
“No.” He clears his throat, replacing the hat again. “I just don’t like being touched.”
He’s a bear with a thorn in his paw, and I want to hug him. Except this one has an aversion to hugs. And all I’ve done is smush myself against him in every interaction we’ve had.
“I’m sorry,” I say as my brows pull in together.
“We should keep going.” He turns, heading back to the path.
CHAPTER NINE
Jack takes the lead as we walk in silence for what feels like forever. Every time a question pops into my mind, the image of his flexed hand overrides it. And now I feel bad for basically forcing him to make physical contact with me so often. Talk about misreading a situation. My brain has been stuck in flirty mode; meanwhile, the man cringes every time we touch.
My inability to do something as simple as not falling over is an annoying reminder that I’m out of my element and ill prepared. Juliet would be half way done with this hike already. Marigold is killing me, and I’m worried that I stink. People who hike shouldn’t be concerned about odor.
I will get through this.
It feels like we’ve reached the very lowest point of the valley as we come to a tunnel the height and width of a doorframe, carved right through the rock like an entrance to another world. It’s long enough that I can’t see any light coming from the other end, but Jack walks in without even hesitating.
This is probably a bad time to announce that I’m the teensiest bit petrified of caves. And this feels very cave adjacent.
I’m a big girl. I can do this. It’s not a cave.
Repeating this over and over doesn’t ease my rising panic when I’m completely blinded a few feet in. My eyes aren’t adjusting to the lack of light.
The air is stuffy. No wind.
Where is the air?
My hands once again grope around for the sides of the rock, but intrusive thoughts of spiders making their cozy homes within the crevices in this pitch-black tunnel and images of Frodo, pasty white and wrapped in webs, invade my mind.
Pebbles crunch as someone approaches, but it’s impossible to tell which direction it’s coming from. My breathing begins to quicken.
Spinning around was a bad idea.
“J-Jack?” I stammer, sensing someone nearby.
The next thing I know, Marigold is yanked, sending me crashing into the hard rock wall. Pain slices into my cheek.
“Jack!” This time I shout his name, my head swimming in confusion.
“Willow?” Jack’s voice answers from too far away.
I’m shoved into the wall again, but manage to brace the impact with my hands. All I hear is shuffling of footsteps and heavy breathing. Someone runs.
“Willow!”
“I’m here. I?—”
“Hey!” Jack shouts, probably encountering the same rude person who bulldozed past me.
The darkness continues to mock me, refusing to let my eyes adjust. A tiny creature with a jackhammer sits in my brain.
