“In there.” I point to the building behind him, and he rolls his eyes before gently putting my hat back onto my head.
My cheeks burn, and I pull my hat low. I shouldn’t have left the restroom. Leaving my backpack on the ground, unattended, wasn’t the smartest move, but neither was spraying my fresh cuts with alcohol. No doubt Juliet would know not to do any of that.
I hear Jack’s question from before, ringing in my ears.Are you sure this is your thing?
“Hey.” Jack brings those determined eyes closer, ducking to catch my gaze. “None of this was your fault. Youshouldbe able to walk around here without worrying about a man assaultingyou. But I won’t let him get near you again. You’re safe with me.”
My head dips as my eyes fall to my hands. “Okay. Thank you.”
But I can already tell that this formidable conviction of his to keep me out of harm’s way is still secondary to a stronger determination to keep me away from his heart. I don’t have any delusions that I’m particularly special in this regard—I’d bet money it’severyonehe keeps at bay, not willing to risk the pain of anyone getting too close. The question iswhy.
“Do you want to press charges against Brandon? I can have my guys grab him at the other end of the rim,” he asks, bringing me back.
My brows draw in closer. “Should I?”
“If he’s involved with what I think he is, then it’ll help.”
“Okay. Then, yeah, I’ll do it if it keeps him from causing more trouble.”
Jack nods, straightening with a fortified breath before leading me back to the women’s restroom.
I’m just praying Marigold wasn’t mugged by an animal while I dealt with my latest faux pas.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Thankfully, Marigold is sitting prettily where I left her, and Jack slides her onto my back when we exit the restroom, working that jaw like his goal is to break a molar. Then he takes hold of my hand, and a humorless laugh tumbles from his chest.
“The first person in years whose touch doesn’t make me want to crawl out of my own skin, and she’s a magnet for trouble.” His head shakes before he turns, heading away from the campsites. “Let’s go set up camp.”
I blink at him. “Can we circle back to that first part?”
Jack is on a mission, though, his long legs pounding up the hill. “Not here.”
I’m quite impressed with the level of cool I’m faking right now. Sirens are blaring in my head, urging me to wrap this man in my arms until he confesses why he can’t stand anyone’s touch. The little fact thatmytouch is the first to garner a different response—it’s threatening spontaneous combustion. Just consider me a lovely charred sacrifice to the canyon.
Instead, I’m a cool cucumber. I mean, look at me, not so much as a girly squeak escaping. Maybe it’s because I’m alsohaving to focus on not passing out as I struggle to keep up with Jack.
“Okay, can we slow down a smidge, though?” I pant, wiping hair out of my face with the hand not clasped in his.
“Sorry.” He slows down so that I’m no longer running. “I wanna get higher and make sure no one’s following before we head off trail.” He positions me behind a tree, and then we wait, watching.
Questions are stacking up in my mind, and the web of what’s currently unfolding is only adding to the pile. But just like on the five-mile incline to Cottonwood Campground, Jack insists we hold off on discussing anything until we’re off the main trail, as the narrow passageways often carry secrets farther than intended. The canyon doesn’t care if a conversation wasn’t meant to be shared—it’s only too willing to dispense echoes of secrets for miles.
Just when I’ve finally caught my breath, Jack declares we haven’t been followed and can leave the path. The thing is, I’m not sure I’m ready to abandon the path that’s been one of my only sources of comfort over the past two days. Through all the struggles, the heat, the scratches, the danger—all of it felt like little bumps in the road. But now we’re choosing to forgo the security of an only slightly bumpy road, actively ignoring my mantra ofjust one foot in front of the other, stay on the path, keep going.
It’s another challenge from the canyon, demanding to know if I belong here, whether I’m strong enough and brave enough to make it through unscathed.
Let’s be real, if it weren’t for Jack, I’d probably have bailed a long time ago. I’d like to think I’d still be in this furnace, fighting for significance, but the tiny realist on my shoulder says there’s no way I wouldn’t have already tucked my tail between my legs and called for an airlift. The fear thatwashed over me while Brandon had me pushed up against the wall would have been enough in itself—just thinking of it sends a shiver down my body. I hate this feeling, and it’s exactly the kind of obstacle that has led me to retreat or abandon my ventures in the past. But there’s too much at stake now.
I force my shoulders to relax, reminding myself to be grateful for the afternoon sun and its promise of a reprieve from the heat. Shadows stretch their limbs as Jack and I walk on, stopping when we come to an alcove.
“I hope you know how to get back to that path because this feels verymiddle-of-nowhereto me.”
“We followed a small creek.” Jack nods toward the restless stream behind me as he sets his backpack down, then stands to help me with Marigold. “I’ve camped here before, and it’s easy enough to get back on the trail.”
I can tell he’s making an effort, evidenced by his slight smile, but I can still sense the tension in his eyes and a tightness in his shoulders. My wandering off and that interaction with Brandon must have triggered him.
But before I can coax this bear to show me his paw, I sense we both need to debrief and wrap our heads around everything we know so far about this dang artifact and who might be involved.
