The Countdown (The Taking #3)(13)

I wanted to hug my dad for insisting on the sunglasses because at least Tyler couldn’t see the tears crowding my eyes. “Maps?” I managed. “What kind of maps?”

Unaware I was on the brink of a total meltdown, Tyler gave one of his signature shrugs. “Maps. I don’t know. Thing is, they don’t even make sense, really. They’re just these”—he made a face—“weird squiggly lines and symbols. But to me, at least in the dream, they make perfect sense.”

Even as he tried to laugh it off as a nothing kind of thing, my skin began to tingle, and suddenly I wasn’t thinking of the old us. His laugh wasn’t convincing because he definitely thought there was something to it . . . and so did I.

His hands had been running anxiously back and forth along my sides, and I reached for them, gripping them. My stomach felt heavy and tight, and my nerves were zinging with electricity. “Tyler, it wasn’t a dream,” I insisted. It was time to tell him about the night in the desert. Maybe more.

Maybe all of it.

I’d seen what he was talking about, those squiggles, the symbols—the ones he’d been drawing.

His map.

I looked up and whispered, “Ochmeel abayal dai.”

I might have said it wrong. The words felt strange on my tongue, but it didn’t seem to matter. The moment they crossed my lips, Tyler’s eyes went huge as he stared back at me.

He knew.

He clung to me, his fingers working their way through mine until they were interlaced. Until he was holding me like I was the only thing tethering him to this world. Then he translated the words for me, in the same strange cadence he had before: “The Returned must die.” His eyes searched mine. “That’s right, isn’t it? What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know. But tonight, at the hot spring, it wasn’t the first time you said that to me. I found you a few nights ago, right after we’d left Blackwater—I thought you were sleepwalking in the desert because you were totally out of it—but you were drawing on the rocks. Strange lines and swirls, just like you described.” I let out a hard breath, cringing. “Maps, I think. And you said those weird words—Ochmeel abayal dai.”

“The Returned must die.”

I hated the way he could say it so easily. “I think we need to tell my dad so he can get in touch with Simon and the others. We need their help to figure this out. . . .”

Tyler nodded, letting go of my hand and touching my jaw. “Whatever you want,” he said. “I’ll go along with whatever you think we should do.” And that was it; I couldn’t stop the tear from slipping down my cheek. Tyler had always been that guy, supporting me no matter what . . . even if he didn’t remember. He deserved the truth.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Whatever you do, don’t cry. I swear I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

My forehead crumpled. “It’s not that. I’m not afraid about what you said or what you or my dad heard tonight.”

His palm cupped my chin, his thumb stroking my cheek like he was drying it, but it was already dry. “What is it then?”

I couldn’t claim temporary amnesia the way he could. This . . . what we’d been to each other . . . hadn’t just slipped my mind. I had to hope-pray-cross my fingers I could find some way to make him understand why I hadn’t told him before.

I lifted my chin, searching the green eyes I’d fallen for and telling myself I could do this. “There’s something I need to tell you, Tyler.”

His gaze clouded over at my serious tone.

I swallowed. “When we ran into each other, back at Blackwater . . .” My voice was hoarse so I swallowed again. “That wasn’t the first time I saw you after I’d come back.”

His tone was uncertain. “What are you talking about? Are you saying you saw me around camp before then? Why didn’t you say something?”

I pressed my lips together. I needed to be clearer. Braver. “No. What I mean is, I saw you before you were taken. Right after I’d been returned, when we were both back in Burlington. At home.”

Tyler’s hand dropped. He looked more confused than ever. “What are you saying?”

I started to reach for him, but stopped myself. It would be too weird to touch him, to hold his hand, at a time like this. “I’m saying those gaps in your memory, the part you can’t quite remember . . . I’m in those. You and me, we were together then.”

He shook his head. “I don’t . . . No . . .” He took a step away from me and ran his hand through his hair. I knew the gesture so well I almost could have predicted it. I waited for him to absorb what I’d just told him. After a second he asked, “Wait, so all the stuff I told you, about Austin and Cat . . . you already knew that?”

I nodded.

“And we . . .” He raised his eyebrows. “We were friends then? Before I was taken?”

I started to nod, then fell off to a shrug. “Sort of.”

An almost smile found his lips. “We were sort of friends?”

Cringing, I bit my lip, feeling a thousand knives plunge through my heart. “Sort of more than friends.”

“More than friends . . . ?” His eyes scoured mine. “How much more?”

I blinked several times, trying to speak but coming up blank. This was humiliating. It would have been one thing to confess my feelings to someone who felt the same way I did, where everything was new for both of us. But it felt like I was opening an artery, explaining to Tyler we’d already fallen in love before . . . he just didn’t remember it.