I shook my head. “When I was six, lightning struck a tree outside my window. The whole thing exploded. I’ve been terrified ever since.”
Noah’s thumb traced circles on my palm. “Everyone’s scared of something.”
“Noah Barrett, was thatanotherconfession?”
He looked up from staring at my hand. “A confession?”
“You just said everyone’s scared of something. Everyone includes you. So spill it. A worldwide flannel shortage? Public speeches while wearing a curtain toga? Clowns? If it’s clowns, I won’t judge you. Clowns are terrifying. With their creepy painted eyes. Those red noses. And big red shoes. You ever consider what gross, fungus-infested toenails they’re hiding in those big red shoes?” I shuddered. “Go on. Spill it.”
Noah sighed, using a long stick to poke at the fire. “Spiders.”
“Spiders? Cute little furry spiders? That’s what scares you?”
“Spiders scare the crap out of me. All those legs. And bulgy eyes.”
“You know what would be absolutely terrifying?” I asked. “A spider dressed up as a clown.”
“Has anyone ever told you how weird you are?”
“Many people.”
Another thunderclap made me flinch. Noah shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against mine.
“What else scares you?” I asked.
“Public speaking actually does terrify me,” Noah admitted. “Give me a mountain lion over a microphone any day.” His admission made me laugh. “What else areyouscared of?”
“Well, let’s see. Where do we start?” I ticked off my many fears on my fingers. “Failure. Disappointing people. Disappointing my parents. Which I constantly do. Ending up alone.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
Noah’s hand tightened around mine. “Yeah. Those are definitely scarier than any storm.”
I squeezed his hand back.
“Spiders are still the scariest, though,” said Noah. “Way scarier.”
“Especially clown spiders.” I looked around the barren cabin built from rotting wood, with enough holes and gaps to admit an entire forest full of insect life. “You realize there are probably spiders in here with us right now, don’t you?”
“Oh, I’m aware. Very aware. Just trying not to think about it.”
I patted his arm, his muscle firm under my palm. “Well, I tell you what, if a spider jumps out and tries to get us, you can hide behind me.”
“You’d battle a ferocious spider for me?”
“Unless it’s dressed as a clown, of course.
“Of course.”
“But if it isn’t dressed as a clown, then yes. Might be nice to get a chance to protect you for once.”
By that time, the fire had done a marvelous job of warming up the entire cabin. So nice, in fact, I let the wool blanket driftoff my shoulders.
Noah’s eyes swept over my bare skin until another crescendo of thunder snapped him from his daze.
“You think this rain is ever going to stop?” Out the window, I saw another flash of lightning.
“Even if it does, the trails will be a mess. Can’t risk the horses in the dark when everything’s this slick. Looks like we might be here for the night.”
My lungs stopped processing oxygen as the implications sank in. The cabin suddenly felt a lot smaller. We stared at the sad excuse for a threadbare mattress, pushed against the far wall, its springs poking through the worn fabric like skeleton fingers out of a grave. The kind of space that would force two people to get very, very cozy.
