“That wasn’t what I should’ve said,” I tell him urgently. “Whatever your secret is, it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”
He turns to look at me, his expression unreadable.
The words are harder to say than I’d expected. Fuck, why is this so difficult to admit?
“Korren. I—I thought I was straight. I was convinced it was true. But what we’ve been doing—that hasn’t all been pretend to me.” I take a ragged breath and forge on. “Fuck me, Korren, but I think I’m in love with you.”
Korren takes a step backward, a wild look in his eyes. “No. You can’t say that, Dex. I’m not gay. That wasn’t part of the deal. I—”
He breaks off, looking panicked.
Then he turns on his heel and charges into the dim, smoky evening, disappearing within seconds.
I give him a moment. Then I realize he probably has no idea where he’s going and he’ll get lost in the smoke if he’s not careful. So I tear after him into the deepening murk, the smoke making me lightheaded. I can’t see him at all. I hope he’s not about to do something stupid.
Chapter 41
Korren
It’s completely dark by the time I stumble back to camp. My head is a mess, my lungs aching from all the smoke. I followed the Chena River until my legs felt like they would give way beneath me, trying to run away from what Dex said, to pretend it never happened. Because there’s no going back after this. I’m not fucking gay, and Dex is, so the game is over and everything we had is lost.
I go to my own tent, not sure I can sleep with Dex at my side, but when I zip it open, he’s not there.
My heart starts pounding in my chest.
Where the hell is he?
I stagger toward the rest of the tents and rustle the fabric of each, asking the crew one by one if they’ve seen him. Most of them sound like they’ve been asleep, but I can see light spilling from screens in a few tents—we’re close enough to Fairbanks that they probably have internet on their phones.
“What’s going on?” Cami asks groggily when I reach her tent.
“Dex is missing. Have you seen him?”
“No, ‘course not. I’ve been sleeping.”
By the time I reach the last tent, a few of the crewmembers are emerging and calling out questions. Ambrose is already climbing from the last tent before I disturb him, and he says, “Did I hear something about Dex missing?”
“You haven’t seen him, have you?” I ask hoarsely.
“No. Sorry, man.”
Fuck.
He’s definitely not here.
I’m fully panicking now, my heart beating a wild rhythm against my ribcage, my breathing shallow.
Before anyone can ask questions, I turn and break into a jog back the way I’d come. It’s getting really fucking dark, so I duck into my own tent and grab a headlamp before starting back along the bank of the river.
This is my fault. Dex must’ve been following me.
As I run, I’m getting flashbacks of that night. The sirens wailing at a pitch that drills into my head. The gut-wrenching sight of the girl’s body that makes me freeze up, my mind blank, my body refusing to carry out my orders. The blood everywhere.
I tried to save her. I fucking tried. But in the moment when it mattered most, I lost my mind with panic and couldn’t do it.
Because it was my fucking fault.
Just like tonight.
