“Jess.” Marco’s hand is on my arm. Firm. Grounding. “Breathe.”
I can’t.
Can’t catch my breath.
Everything’s spinning.
“Look at me.” His voice cuts through the panic. “Eyes on me. Now.”
I force my gaze to his.
“One,” he says quietly, squeezing my arm at the same time.
I try to inhale. It comes in shaky and thin.
“Two.”
Another breath. Another squeeze. Slightly better.
“Three.”
The exhale and accompanying squeeze releases something tight in my chest.
I take several more deep breathes, very slowly returning to normal.
He’s watching me carefully. “You want to turn back?”
I should say yes.
Should grab Ben and run back to that cabin and demand we pack up and leave.
But then I look at Ben. She’s examining a pinecone, completely unfazed by the dead fox. Already moved on. Resilient in that way kids are.
And I remember what Marco said before. About teaching respect instead of fear.
Maybe I’m projecting my own terror onto her.
Maybe she’s stronger than I’m giving her credit for.
Or maybe you’re just too chickenshit to disappoint the hot billionaire you’re sleeping with.
Either way, here we are.
“No,” I hear myself say. “Let’s... let’s continue. Just a while longer.”
Marco studies my face. “You sure?”
Scared and brave can live in the same body.
“No,” I tell him. “But let’s do it anyway. Come on, before I change my mind!”
Marco guides us around the fox and we keep walking.
The sky’s getting darker. Clouds rolling in. The air feels heavier now. Charged.
“Might rain,” Marco observes. “We should head back soon.”
Thank God.
