I leap backward into the underbrush so fast the ferns snap against my shins. I brace myself behind a cedar trunk just as Elias steps onto the porch, blinking at the trees.
He moves slowly, holding his head as though the world is slightly too bright. His gaze sweeps the clearing, landing first on the roof, then the railing, then the ground.
Where I stood.
My footprints.
Huge. Deep. Deliberate.
No.
Stupid. Careless. Twice now. Twice in one week. What am I, a rookie cryptid fresh out of hibernation with moss still blocking my brain?
I can see the exact moment Elias registers the shape. He crouches, touches the print with his fingers, tracing the curve of the toe, the spread of the forefoot.
He doesn’t look scared. He looks… curious. Puzzled. Annoyed. Maybe even?—
No.
Not warm. Don’t imagine warmth.
He stands again, looking around the trees. And then he does something I don’t expect.
He speaks.
“Is… someone out there?”
My lungs stop working.
He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… um… I don’t know if I’m losing it. Concussions are weird. People told me I might hallucinate things.”
Not hallucinations. I’m right here. Too close.
“And if someoneisout there,” he continues, voice cracking slightly, “thank you. For… helping. If you did. I don’t know. Maybe I dreamed the whole thing.”
My heart thuds painfully.
He swallows. “And if you were the one who carried me… I don’t know how you did that, but… thank you.”
Oh stars above.He remembers that. Not clearly, but enough.Enough to know he wasn’t alone.
Then, because the universe enjoys my suffering, he adds, “And if youwerethe naked guy…” He stops. Shakes his head at himself. “Sweet wildflowers, listen to me. That’s insane. You weren’t real. You were just the world’s most inconveniently hot concussion dream.”
I forget how to breathe.
Hot?
He thought?—
The human form?—
He thought I was?—
Awareness floods my body, spreading from my chest to my fingertips in a ridiculous, full-body flush.
He thought I was hot.
I stand perfectly still, every muscle locked, heart pounding like a war drum. My first, wild burst of joy hits so hard I almost stumble. And then, just as quickly, doubt. Immediate, stomping, crushing doubt.
