Megan

Megan thundered down the mountain at breakneck speed. She knew she should take it slower and use caution, but fear drove her on. The sun was already sinking in the sky and she was desperate to reach the road Zander had given her directions to before dark. There would be no hope of her finding her way back to him once night fell.

She’d used Zander’s pocketknife to leave torn pieces of her red Gryffindor socks, marking a path back to him. But they would do her little good in the dark. The thought pushed her on.

Megan allowed herself quick moments to stop and check her phone for service while she caught her breath, but it was useless. The no service icon greeted her each time. Still, she typed out an SOS message to Sam and Devon, praying she might cross a miracle pocket of cell service that would deliver her distress call.

She reached the bottom of the waterfall sooner than she’d expected. Megan followed the trail Zander described and made it to the road. It was deserted and the light was fading quickly. She rubbed her arms and jogged in place to stay warm as she desperately hoped to see headlights.

An hour later the road was still empty. Megan had a choice to make. Attempt the near ten-mile hike to the ranger’s station or go back to Zander?

She checked the time. She had about an hour left before the sun was completely absorbed by night. An idea stirred her and she made her decision.

Zander

Zander assumed he was hallucinating when he saw Megan coming toward him through the mist. It wouldn’t be the first time he thought he saw her. He’d spent the hours since Megan had left thinking of nothing but her—reliving each of their kisses, begging his mind to recall her sweet floral scent and the feel of her peach-soft skin.

He shivered as his grip on reality slipped away. The temperature was dropping and Zander could see each frigid breath he exhaled. He shifted deeper into Megan’s jacket, disgusted he hadn’t the strength to stand up and wrap it around her shoulders before she’d left.

Guilt gnawed at him as he shoved his numb hands into the pockets of her jacket. His fingers wrapped around something silken and he pulled out a single yellow daisy. Zander was stricken by how much the stubborn flower reminded him of Megan—it’s beauty relentless and unyielding, even in such inhospitable conditions.

Megan was Zander’s willful daisy, determined to make him see beauty and light even when drowning in his own darkness.

“Zander?”

Megan’s voice shattered Zander’s hallucination and he dropped the flower, startled to see her beautiful face staring back at him. She had raindrops tangled in her dark eyelashes and he smiled, sure he’d never seen something so lovely.

Megan

Megan was so relieved she’d made it back to Zander that she was near tears. She crawled next to him, dragging her pack behind her. Her plan had worked. She’d found her way back to their abandoned packs, put on his jacket, gathered everything that would help them survive, and made her way to Zander.

“Megan?” Zander whispered, sounding astonished to see her again.

“I told you I’d come back,” she panted, throwing her arms around him.

He was shaking and she quickly dug through her pack, pulling out a small wax fire starter log, along with the kindling she’d collected. With the help of Zander’s lighter, she had a tiny fire blazing in minutes.

“It’s not much, but it’ll help,” she offered.

Zander was still staring at her in disbelief.

“Ye didn’t go to the road?” he finally asked.

“I did. I waited and waited but there was no one.” She frowned, picking up his frozen hand. “Please don’t be mad, but I couldn’t just leave you here alone all night. I can try again tomorrow.”

“I’m not mad,” he whispered, pulling her tight to his chest. “How could I be mad? Ye came back.”

“I told you I would.” She laughed at the absurdity of their situation. She clung to him. “We’re in this together now.”

Zander repeated the word, like it was foreign to him. “Together.”

* * *

They spent the rest of the frigid night huddled together under their sleeping bags and the tarp Megan had pilfered from Zander’s pack. Megan forced him to eat and drink, and demanded he move every few hours to keep his blood pumping. She didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, but she’d seen enough survival movies to feel her actions had merit.

She wanted to keep Zander conscious. He seemed to be drifting in and out of coherence, which prickled at Megan’s nerves. The gash on his head had clotted, but there was no telling how hard he’d hit it. She was afraid he might have a concussion. Then there was his leg. An alarming amount of blood soaked his pant leg from knee to ankle, but Zander was in too much pain to let Megan examine his injury—not that there was much she’d be able to do for him. She didn’t have any medical training and their supplies were limited. Her best hope was to keep his spirits up.

“This is kinda of like Hunger Games,” she said, hoping to get him talking.

Zander’s slight smirk was the only indication that he’d heard her.

“You know . . . the part where Katniss and Peta are hiding in the cave?” She laughed. “But at least we have Nerds,” Megan said, shaking the box of candy.

The sugar was helping her stay awake and she forced Zander to eat some as well.

“I always wanted to be Katniss,” Megan added. “Do you think I could pull it off for Halloween?”

“Mmm,” Zander murmured.

Concern swept through Megan. She shook Zander’s shoulder forcing him to look at her. “Zander, stay with me, okay?”

“I’m here,” he mumbled.

“Good. Keep talking. We need to stay awake.”

They were probably only a few hours from dawn. The last of the wax logs was fading and Megan felt the frosty temperature biting at them again. They would make it. They had to. She refused to let her story end this way.

Megan snuggled into Zander’s chest, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“Tell me a story,” she begged. “Something I don’t know.”

She felt him exhale but he was silent for so long she worried he may have fallen asleep. She was just about to check when his voice slipped through the night as silent as a thief.

“I was the last one with her,” he whispered, his voice heavy with pain. “I was there and I didn’t help her.”

Megan didn’t move. She wanted to ask him what he was talking about, but the ache in his voice was like a spell she was terrified to disturb.

“I was there . . .” he said again. “I should’ve saved her.”

Zander’s voice cracked and it tore something loose in Megan. She sat up, pressing her lips to his temple and pulling him close. “Who,” she asked.

“My mother,” he croaked.

Megan watched the anguish fill his green eyes and her heart went out to him. She took both of his hands in hers. “Tell me.”

Zander let out a shuddering sigh. “My father was a drunk. Did I ever tell ye that?”

She shook her head.

“He beat my mother nearly every night of his miserable life, and I did nothing to stop it.”

“You were a kid, Zander. It wasn’t your job to stop it.”

He shook his head, lost in the painful memories. “I should’ve done more. I should’ve tried to stop him. And now I’ll always wonder if it would’ve made a difference.”

“What do you mean?”

“One day the fighting got worse than usual. They didn’t know I was home from school, but I was. I hid in my room, wishing the yelling would stop. Then I heard a crash and the door slam. I found my mother lying at the bottom of the steps.” He shivered. “My father just left her lying there. He must’ve taken off so, I-I took her to bed. She should’ve gone to the hospital, but I took her to bed. She said she just needed to lie down. But she-she didn’t get back up.”

Megan felt tears burning tracks down her cheeks as her heart squeezed for Zander.

“I stayed with her, holding her hand. I thought she was just sleeping. But then she got cold. She was so cold, and her lips . . . they turned white. That’s when I knew.” He inhaled sharply. “She was so cold. She wasn’t breathing and I . . . I let it happen.”

“Zander . . .” Megan didn’t know what to say. No words would make what he’d gone through okay. She couldn’t believe Zander felt he had to keep this part of himself hidden from her. It explained so much. Why he’d freaked out when she’d had her asthma attack and when he’d thought he’d lost her in the woods. Both times she’d been ice cold, her lips probably blue. She was practically a walking ghost of what he’d endured with his mother.

“Zander, I’m so sorry. But it wasn’t your fault.”

He shook his head. “It was his fault, but I didn’t stop him, so I’m just as guilty.”

“Zander, your father is the only one who’s guilty.”

He huffed a bitter laugh. “Then why did he get rewarded for killing her?”

“What?”

“He cashed in her life insurance and then he left us like we were nothing. That’s why Cara had to marry Henry James. She’ll never admit it but I know it’s true. We had no money and she had to keep us afloat. All of it . . . my whole life, it’s all built on a lie.”

A startling realization prickled Megan’s scalp with goose bumps. “Zander, who else knows the truth?”

He shrugged. “No one.”

She couldn’t believe it. “Not even Cara?”

“I couldn’t tell her. My father made me swear not to. He said he’d go to jail if the truth came out about my mother, and Cara and I would be split up in foster homes.”

“How long have you kept this secret?”

“Ten years.”

Megan shook her head, completely at a loss as to how Zander had managed to carry such a burden. He was twenty-two. That meant he’d been alone with this nightmare since he was twelve. No wonder he was terrified to let anyone in.

She placed her hands on either side of his face. “Zander, I need you to hear me. You’re not alone anymore. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. We’re gonna get out of here and we’re gonna get you help.”