“That’s your idea of hiking clothes?” I asked, needing the normalcy of teasing him.
“I’ve hiked in worse.” He grabbed his keys. “Ready?”
No. I wasn’t ready for any of this. Wasn’t ready to bare mysoul again. Wasn’t ready to see disappointment replace the heat in his eyes. Wasn’t ready to watch him realize I wasn’t worth the fight after all.
But I nodded anyway.
Because if there was one thing I’d learned in foster care, it was how to pretend everything was fine when your world was falling apart.
As we headed to his car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this hike would change everything. That whatever fragile thing existed between us would either solidify into something real or shatter completely.
33
FAITH
“Faith, I know this is hard, but you need to try harder.”
“I am trying.” The cold air bit at my cheeks as I navigated the winding trail, fallen leaves crunching beneath my boots. “I think about that night every day. All day.”
“I know you do.” His jaw tightened. “But we’re hitting walls everywhere. The surveillance footage my PI has been tracking down … every camera that should have caught something either didn’t exist or the footage is conveniently unavailable.”
Something in his tone made me slow my pace. “Conveniently?”
“I don’t know yet. But your memory might be the only thing we have to fill in the gaps.”
I wondered if another reason he’d taken me on a hike through woods—not the same woods as that night, of course; that would’ve sent me into a full panic attack—was hoping nature might coax my memories loose.
I studied his profile, the tension in his shoulders. “Why does it feel like there’s more you’re not telling me?”
He was quiet for a beat too long. “Let’s just say, the other side has more resources than I anticipated. And they’re not playing fair.”
A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the autumn air.
“Back to that night,” he said. “Nothing else is coming back?”
“Just fragments. Running. Things like that.” I wished I could remember more. I wanted to help, to make his life easier, and I felt like a failure, like I wasn’t doing my part here.
He scrubbed a frustrated hand over his face. “Running.”
“Away from him. As fast as I could.”
The trail stretched ahead of us, carpeted in dead leaves that rustled with each step. A crisp breeze carried the earthy scent of decomposing foliage and woodsmoke from someone’s distant bonfire. Nature had always grounded me, made me feel safe when people felt dangerous.
When a fallen tree blocked our path, Ryker stepped over it first, then turned back. Without asking, he bracketed my waist with his hands and lifted me over. The casual strength of it, the way his fingers flexed against my ribs, sent heat shooting through me.
He kept one hand on my lower back a beat longer than necessary, steadying me. Or maybe just touching me. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
He studied my face for a moment, then shrugged out of his jacket. “Here.”
“I’m not cold.”
“You’re shaking.”
He draped it around my shoulders anyway, and, God help me, it smelled like him. Like expensive cologne and coffee. I wanted to burrow into the leather.
“Any idea why your car was found so close to the mansion?” he pressed, shifting back to our conversation.
