Split(45)

Great, you mind filling me in?

“Oh yeah?” I’m cautious, not sure if we’re talking about the same thing, but either way I need answers.

He leans forward. “Must say, happy to hear you knocked that little shit Dustin down a few notches. Kid needs to get his ass beat.”

My eyes grow wide and I nod. It’s all I can do because screaming, What in the hell are you talking about? would draw too much attention. If what he says is true, that means I was out.

Out as in gone, and out as in out in public.

“Anyway, too bad about the food poisoning.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “You’re still looking a little run-down. Might wanna take another day.”

“Another day . . . yeah.” My voice is vacant and the room spins.

“Whoa, easy there.” He grips my shoulders, his bushy dark brows settling over concerned eyes, and encourages me to sit. “Put your head between your knees, or . . . shit . . . Can we get Lucas some water or something?” he calls over his shoulder.

I stare off in front of me but see nothing. This isn’t like a blackout where I go from light to dark like a flick of a switch. This is—

“Lucas . . .?” A soft, feminine voice rings in my ears seconds before my field of vision is filled with liquid-blue eyes. “I got ’im, Stilts.”

Shyann. She’s okay. Just seeing her alive and healthy clears my head a little.

My eyes dart to Stilts’s retreating feet and then back to her. She’s wearing a baseball hat backward and there’s white paint splattered across her cheek and some on a few long pieces of black hair that escaped her hat. Maybe it’s just the relief at seeing she’s okay, but in this moment she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Hey . . .” She cups my jaw and forces my gaze to hers as her eyes search mine. “Lucas . . . right?” She angles her face away, but only slightly, like she’s bracing for something.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She lets out a long breath and her expression relaxes. “You’re back,” she whispers, and a tiny smile tilts her lips, but I can’t return it.

She knows.

I survey our surroundings, and once I’m certain we’re alone, I ask what I’ve been dying to know. “What happened?”

“Are you okay to walk?”

I nod.

She helps me to my feet, and I sway.

“Lucas, are you sure you’re okay? When was the last time you ate?”

The last time I remember was . . . “Tacos.”

Her head jerks. “Tacos? With me?”

I nod again. “Yeah.”

She frowns and dips her shoulder under mine, wraps her arm around me, and holds me to her. “Come on.”

We walk through the half-constructed home into the back that opens to dense forest trees. I’m grateful that she’s strong, and as we pass by a few of the guys, she makes it look like she’s holding on to me rather than holding me up. If I didn’t feel so weak, so confused, I’d absorb the feel of her soft body pressed against mine, the warmth of her at my side. After a few yards through the brush, she stops at the base of a large Douglas fir.

“Here.” She guides me to the ground, where I drop with my back against the trunk.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so messed up. Must be the food poisoning.”

She ignores me, or it’s possible she didn’t hear me. “Be right back.” She takes off and her retreating figure blurs to mix with the evergreens.

Sleep begs to take me. A cool breeze combines with the warm sun that filters through the boughs and settles against my skin. My eyelids grow heavy, but before they fall shut, a hand grips my chin.

“I need you to eat.” She shoves a sandwich into my hand.

I push it back to her. “I can’t. I—”

Her face comes close to mine, so close I can feel her breath on my lips, see the tiny flecks of gray in her eyes, and smell the sweet scent of her shampoo. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Eat it.” Her eyes are cold and hard; this isn’t a request, and I’m too tired to fight.

I take a bite of the sandwich and groan as the flavor floods my mouth. I’m suddenly ravenous, as if all my internal organs just realized they were starving.

She relaxes a little as I swallow bite after bite, until finally she drops next to me to lean against the tree, legs cocked, forearms resting against her jean-clad knees.

As soon as I finish the sandwich, she hands me a bottled water. I drink it in seconds, and she hands me another.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why—”

“You haven’t eaten since Friday.”

“So?”

Her head tilts and she pins me with a glare that has me dropping my eyes to avoid it. “It’s Monday, Lucas.”

My head whips around. “What?”

She shoves a bag of green grapes in front of my face. “Eat.”

I do as I’m told. Fear of getting sick tickles the back of my mind but my hunger overtakes my unease.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I get the feeling you’re just as clueless as I am.”

I stop chewing, shocked at how well she can read me, and then shove more grapes in my mouth.

“Thing is, a lot happened and . . .” She turns her eyes toward mine and hurt shines through them. “We need to have a serious talk.”