I scowl, daring her to finish.
“I just mean . . .” Her lips roll together, stifling a laugh. “You both like solitude. People misunderstand him, and I think, maybe, it’s the same for you.”
This is why I can’t get close to her. She sees things that aren’t there.
I shift under her gaze, restless. She’s doing it now, cutting straight through my bullshit to the things I try to hide from the world. It irritates and thrills me.
I buckle under her stare.
“Trying to fix me will only lead to pain.” It comes out weary, more vulnerable than I’d like. “I’m better on my own. Always have been.”
Arms cross over her chest protectively, she says, “Liar.” It’s only a moment before regret softens her voice. “That’s not how I see you.”
“Really?” I challenge. “Because calling memisunderstoodis like calling a wildfire temperamental instead of dangerous. You’ll get burned if you get too close.”
Aspen pushes up from the couch, turning away, fists clenched at her sides.
A second later, she spins back around, golden eyes blazing as they sweep over me. I hold still for what feels like minutes, forcing myself to look like everything I warned her about.
Recognizing she can’t win this one, she deflates.
Regret turns my stomach.
“I can’t change how you see yourself. But like it or not, I’ll be here when you need help, or a friend.”
She crosses to the kitchen, stops at the whiteboard, and scrawls something in loopy handwriting without looking back. “There’s a pizza place that delivers—menu’s on the fridge. I’ll set out some of Drake’s old clothes so you have a clean set.”
Her shoulders lift and fall with a heavy sigh before she faces me. Hurt and maybe disappointment tug her lips down.
Whatever it is, it lands hard.
“Your bandage needs to be changed in the morning. Text me when you’re up, or don’t. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to, Emmett.”
Then she walks out, leaving me filled with self-hatred and guilt.
I did that, and she didn’t deserve it.
Fuck.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
EMMETT
Morning sunlight casts a golden hue over the mountains. It’s my first time seeing Timberline Peak without the haze of smoke, and even I have to admit it’s something. The town is tucked into the valley beneath a crescent of sharp, gray-blue ridges, making it feel hidden from the rest of the world.
Coyote Creek sits just beyond the ridge, but the calm here doesn’t exist over there.
I turn my back on the view, though, because no matter how long I procrastinate, the view isn’t what brought me out here.
My fist hovers an inch from Aspen’s pale blue door.
After the way I left things last night, I barely slept. I’m mad at myself and not eager to admit she was right—I need help.
A hundred reasons why I shouldn’t swirl in my head, but the gauze is peeling back from my burn so I knock anyway.
Aside from the birds chirping, all is quiet. It lasts long enough that I wonder if she’s still sleeping. Then the sound of feet on hardwood filters through the wood and the deadbolt clicks before the door swings open.
