“I’m fine,” she said automatically, trying to push herself up again. “Just clumsy.”
Nash rushed over and knelt beside her. “You’re hurt.” It wasn’t a question. His gaze dropped to her already-swelling ankle.
“It’s nothing.” Amanda pulled away when he reached toward her. “I just need to get back to my car.”
“On that ankle? Not happening.” Nash began collecting her scattered belongings, his movements methodical and careful. He picked up a page of notes, his eyes scanning it before she could snatch it away. “Porter Rockwell’s connection to cache locations based on broken arrow markings.” He looked up at her, eyes narrowed. “Explain, please.”
“Just a university project,” she insisted, grabbing the paper from his hand. “Nothing important.”
“At the exact same cave with the exact same symbols I’m investigating?” Nash shook his head. “I don’t believe in coincidences that big, Amanda.”
“Sadie,” she corrected automatically. Then she bit her lip. Stupid. Stupid mistake.
“Sadie?” Nash’s expression shifted from concern to suspicion. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” She stuffed the last of her papers into her bag. “Look, I appreciate the help, but I need to go. I’ll be fine.”
“You can’t walk on that ankle.” Nash zipped her backpack closed and slung it over his shoulder before she could protest. “And I’m not leaving you here.”
“I don’t need your help.” The words came out harsher than she intended.
“Well, you’re getting it anyway.” Without warning, Nash bent down and scooped her up in his arms.
“Put me down!” She pushed against his chest, mortified by the position and the closeness.
He started walking. “Don’t make me drop you and hurt both of us. I’m taking you to your car. Then you can tell me exactly what’s going on.”
She didn’t want him to drop her, so with a sigh, she let herself be carried. Her heart raced. The man was gorgeous and strong and … no. She couldn’t think about that.
“Sadie,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”
She jolted out of her thoughts. “There’s nothing to tell.” Right, she was Sadie now. She’d left Amanda behind.
“Right.” The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable. “Nothing except why you disappeared without a word eight years ago, why you’re calling yourself Sadie now, and why you’re researching the same historical gold cache that my family is tracking.”
Sadie fell silent, knowing arguments would be useless. Her mind raced to formulate a story that would satisfy him without revealing the truth. Which was hard to do, because she was distracted by this man from her past picking her up and carrying her like it was nothing. He was going out of his way to help her, even though she’d abandoned him all those years ago. That’swhat had drawn her to Nash in the first place; he was just plain good. Well, that and he was extremely hot.
They reached the trailhead parking lot in uncomfortable silence.
“Keys?” he asked as he approached her vehicle.
She hesitated, then reluctantly fished them from her pocket.
Nash managed to unlock the driver’s side door while still holding her, then gently set her down on the seat. He placed her backpack on the passenger floor.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly, avoiding his eyes. “I can manage from here.”
Instead of backing away, Nash leaned against the open door, effectively blocking her from closing it. “Not so fast. I think I deserve some answers.”
Sadie looked up at him then, taking in the determined set of his jaw. “I’m sorry we left town,” she said eventually. “It was complicated.”
“Complicated how?” Nash’s eyes searched hers.
“Just … complicated.” She grabbed her backpack and pulled it onto her lap, a subconscious barrier between them. “Family stuff. But I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“If?” Nash’s eyebrows rose. “I called your house. I went by the next day and found out your family had just … vanished overnight. No goodbye, no explanation.” His voice grew quieter. “I looked for you for months.”
Guilt knotted in Sadie’s stomach. She’d thought about him so often over the years, wondered what might have been if her family hadn’t been in WITSEC, if her father hadn’t been preparing to testify against Vincent Ferrante, if that bullet hadn’t ended his life and forced her and her mother deeper into hiding. “I couldn’t reach out. I’m sorry.”
