The storm was going to let up and Alice was going to come back. I glanced out the window and told myself this for the fifth time. But what if it doesn’t and what if she doesn’t? the insidious voice inside my head asked.

Pip barked, and I walked out the front door. Damn, it was coming down pretty hard. If she was as reckless and as furious as she had looked when she had stormed out, it wouldn’t be hard for her to get lost.

I went back to the couch and sat down. There was no point in worrying; it’d been less than half an hour. The storm was going to let up, and she was going to come back. She had to. I cooked some ramen I’d found in the back of the pantry, saving a bowl for her. As I sat and ate, Pip came up and pawed my leg anxiously. Even from where I was sitting, I could see Gerald staring at me with accusation in his black little eyes. Pip trotted to the door and started whining. Then she ran back and scratched at my leg again.

Finally, with a sigh, I rose.

“Okay, you win. What is it, girl?”

When I opened the door, she ran out. I sighed. Running upstairs, I grabbed a raincoat and then set out behind Pip. As soon as she saw me, she took off, setting off into an unfamiliar patch of trees.

“Pip!” I yelled soon after, but already she was just a whitish blur at the edge of the rain.

As I ran after her, cold raindrops slapped across my hands and face. But I didn’t slow down. I was starting to have a really bad feeling about this.

The forest was a nearly impenetrable black. Several times I realized I was about to run into a tree only moments before actually doing so. Everything seemed to want to stop me. The branches all extended out at me, the shrubs snagged on my pants and jacket, the tree roots angled out when I least expected them, and the rain dashed against my face with increasing intensity.

But there was a black hole inside of me, blacker than this night, colder than this rain, worse than anything Mother Nature could throw at me. It was the possibility of losing her, of never again seeing that crinkled, laughing face, those dancing, vibrant blue eyes, that sprinkle of freckles on her nose.

No, I would run as long as it took, venture on as far as I needed. Anything to get to Alice, to bring her back to me. My legs plodded on, becoming increasingly numb and as foreign to me as sticks, but there would be no stopping. I had to find her.

Finally, when my legs had just about given out, when my breath had started coming out in gasps, I came upon her. Pip. She was whining, pawing at something in the grass. Something so black it almost merged with the ground. A curled-up ball of a person. One series of shivers. Alice.

Immediately, I picked her up and pressed her to me. I took off my coat and shirt and threw them over her body.

Her eyes were closed.

“Alice? Alice?”

Her eyelashes fluttered, but her eyes stayed closed.

I picked her up and started to run, carrying her limp body. Pip galloped on ahead, the light at the end of my dark forest tunnel. She knew the way; she’d show me the way home. I’d make it—I had to. Somehow, carrying Alice, as freezing as I was, I felt light, airy. Everything was numb, so maybe that was why it was easier. I wanted to kiss her, but it could wait.

She had to be all right.

My legs flew on, and my only thoughts were to go faster, to throw my legs ahead farther, to not stop for a second. I had Alice in my arms, and she was still shivering, but she was there. I couldn’t lose her, not now. As I ran, I knew only this: If I lost her, everything would be lost.

Pip was always just out of sight, waiting for me around the latest mass of trees, the single flash of light in this forest of black. Ever running, ever chasing, I followed without expecting to stop, without needing to. As long as I had to run to keep Alice alive, I would. Then, finally, the white was joined by less black. The cabin. I was there.

Inside, Alice and I were one shiver, but I couldn’t stop walking now. I carried her upstairs, put her in my bed, and wrapped her in every blanket I had. After a minute, her shivers stopped and she fell into a restless sort of breathing. She was okay. I lay down beside her, closed my eyes, and thanked my lucky stars.

* * *

I awoke to her soft breath. Tickling my lips, it smelled like vanilla. When I opened my eyes, hers were closed. She was smiling slightly.

“Alice?” I said.

She didn’t stir. Light was slanting in through the window. My limbs were still numb and achy.

So I lay there, watching that soft breath slip in and out of those parted lips. I didn’t know how long I lay there, only that, at some point, with one eye squinting open, she asked, “What are you doing?”

Sitting up and glancing away, I said, “Nothing.”

Alice only gave a sleepy nod and pushed herself upright beside me. Her lids still half-lowered with sleepiness, she brushed her fingers across mine.

“Your hand…”

To her inquisitive glance, I gave a flippant nod. When her drowsy smile fell, with a sigh, I told her the story.

“One day when I was a kid, I acted up. My dad got really angry at me and smashed my hand into the wall. I had to go to the ER afterward. He told them I fell.”

Now her drowsy smile was a full-on expression of horror. Her eyes filled with tears, Alice took my scarred hand and ran her fingers across it once more.

“Jake, I…I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

I withdrew my fingers and got out of bed.

“Yeah. I guess this fits your hard life expectations better, doesn’t it?”

Alice winced as if she had been struck, and I made for the door. In the doorway, I paused.

“Want to play Guess Who?”

“What?”

I turned to see Alice’s face as puzzled as her voice had sounded.

I addressed my answer to the slant of light falling on the floor.

“You know, the board game thing. Tom—one of my weird-ass friends—left it here. We like to get really drunk and play it.”

To her still-confused look, I continued. “You can play it sober, too, though. We can—if you want. I’ll make some breakfast. Might have some instant coffee left too if you’re okay with it black.”

She nodded slowly.

“All right. Why not? And yeah, I’m starving.”

I escaped to get the supplies. I had enough coffee left for exactly two mugs, and there was some old but still good peanut butter to put on the last two pieces of bread I toasted. I found the game stashed away in my kitchen cupboard among strange bowls and stranger books I didn’t remember buying.

I carried everything upstairs, and when I got to my room, Alice was standing. She looked at me in surprise.

“Oh, so…you wanted to play here then?”

I shrugged.

“I just thought you might be tired since…you know…”

She blushed, and more words spilled out of my mouth.

“Alice, last night, I…”

She shook her head, refusing to look me in the eye.

“I was an idiot, running out there like that into the storm. I’m lucky I didn’t die of hypothermia or something. Thank you.”

She still wasn’t looking at me as she said it. I put the plate, mugs, and game on the bedside table, then stepped forward and put my hand on hers.

“It was my fault; I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m sorry. I have a knack for pushing people away, especially when…”

Her eyes met mine. “Especially when what?”

I didn’t answer her. Instead, I sat on the floor and slapped the box down in front of me. She joined me on the floor, and I handed her a mug of coffee and a piece of peanut butter toast. Then we both ate and drank in silence.

After our sad little breakfast, she asked, “So, are we gonna play or what?”

It didn’t take long to set up the game; I handed out the two playing boards, and we picked out our cards. I got ‘Arnold’—a card showing a red-haired man with purple glasses and a peculiar, unsettling smile, and she got some other person I had to guess. And so we did, narrowing each other’s person down by gender, skin color, hair, and eyes until she guessed “Arnold” and whooped with glee at her right answer.

But as she sat there laughing at my furious loser’s scowl, something happened. Her voice cracked, as if she had remembered something. As if something was lurking inside her, preventing her from being happy.

“I don’t know why I didn’t run. Back there in the bank,” she said.

I said nothing, because that was the right answer this time.

“Another game?” I asked after a minute. She nodded and then proceeded to beat me a second, third and fourth time.

“Be careful,” I warned as she proceeded to taunt me with her card.

“Or what?” she asked, her victorious grin still wide.

“Or this,” I said, standing up.