Of course it isn’t.
He moves past me, already focused, already scanning the ground like he’s reading a language I don’t understand, his attention sharp and unwavering. “Stay close,” he says.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to act like prey.”
His mouth curves just slightly, but he doesn’t look up. “There’s a difference between being smart and being reckless.”
“I’m still figuring out which one you think I am.”
“I know exactly what you are.”
That stops me. I turn toward him, my brows pulling together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He finally looks up, his eyes locking on mine in a way that feels too direct, too knowing. “Trouble.”
Heat flares in my chest, irritation mixing with something else I don’t want to name. “Funny,” I mutter. “I was thinking the same about you.”
“Then we’re on the same page.”
He turns away again and crouches near the edge of the clearing. “Come here.”
I hesitate for just a second before moving toward him, my boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. He doesn’t look back, but I can feel it, that awareness of me closing the distance, like he registers every step even without seeing it.
When I reach him, I stop just behind his shoulder. “What am I looking at?” I ask.
He gestures toward the ground. “Footprints.”
At first, I don’t see anything. I squint, adjusting my focus, and then they appear, faint impressions pressed into the dirt, too distinct to be anything natural.
Not mine. Not his.
My stomach tightens. “I didn’t see those yesterday.”
“You weren’t looking for them.”
“I was,” I push back.
He glances up at me, one brow lifting slightly. “You were looking to confirm you were safe.”
My jaw tightens.
“And you’re not,” he adds.
I crouch beside him, closer than I probably should be, close enough that I can feel the heat of him even in the cold air. “Those could be old,” I say.
“They’re not.”
“How do you know?”
He shifts slightly and points. “The edges are still clean. No weathering. Nothing settled in them yet.”
I lean closer, studying the prints. He’s right.
“When?” I ask.
“Last night.”
A chill moves down my spine. I was inside. Sleeping, or trying to, while someone was out here.
