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I shove my hands into my pockets. “It wasn’t a threat. At least, not yet. The thing is, I see where she’s coming from. In regards to her own situation, I mean.”
“It’s not about her.”
“Right. That’s the problem. It has nothing to do with her, and yet she’s suffered more than anyone because of it.”
“More thanyou?” Jayla says. “Please don’t tell me you think that.”
“She lost something, and she wants it back, and with Anna gone…” I shove my hands in deeper. “It’s complicated.”
“It is. Which means she should have called you to discuss it. Not waylaid you here.”
I take three steps and bend. “Is this a footprint?”
Jayla doesn’t move from her spot. “Yes, because we were up here earlier.”
I touch the patch of soft ground where there’s a clear shoe impression. “We weren’t over here, and this is fresh.”
“Maybe it’s the Abbases?” She crosses her arms and then uncrosses them. “Fine, I’m being contrary. You can say that, you know.”
“Nah, it’s always better to let you figure it out for yourself.”
She mutters under her breath, stalks over, and bends to shine her light on the footprint. She’s close enough that I can smell her hair oil, and it’s the same one she’s always used, the scent stirring memories of all the times we’d fallen asleep, in the back of a car, watching a movie, our heads together, that smell lulling me into slumber.Jayla is here,it said.Everything’s safe, everything’s fine.
I blink back tears and clear my throat before I look over at her. “How’re you doing, Jay? I haven’t asked that.”
She waves around us. “Because you’re kinda busy with all this.”Her gaze shifts to the side. “Which is a fine excuse, because I didn’t ask about you either.”
“It’s good to see you.”
“Don’t pull that shit.”
Her scowl makes me laugh, and she shakes her head.
“Fine. You have thirty seconds to be all friendly and whatever.” Her voice softens. “I’m doing okay. I think I might… No, IknowI’ve found someone. We’re talking about moving in, which is scary as hell, because I don’t do that shit, and she’s got a kid, and I suck with kids.”
“Madison wouldn’t say so.”
“Because she inherited your shitty taste in friends.” She settles on her haunches. “Mads seems to be doing well.”
“She’s doing okay.”
“And you?”
Not doing okay. Not by a long shot.
I make some noncommittal noise under my breath and gesture at the footprint. “Looks like a guy’s by the length and width. The tread suggests a boot.”
“Nice dodge of my question, whichanswersmy question.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Yesterday, I thought I saw someone up here when we were coming out. I pretended I saw a moose because I figured it was that stump.” I point.
She eyes me for a moment, as if debating whether to pursue the earlier question. Then she mutters under her breath again and starts shining the light across the ground.
“More footprints over there,” she says. “Looks like several people—Ugh, because that’s where we were earlier.”
I laugh softly. “Yep.”
When my light catches moisture glinting off a broad leaf at ground level, I shine the beam on it and my breath seizes.
