I didn’t recognize him—which was odd, considering there were only about a dozen of us who usually came to search for Mr. Daniels—but there was something familiar in the way he held himself, the way his posture advertised submission but his energy felt 100 percent aggressive. I had the utterly illogical impression that this guy was more dangerous than the loaded gun pointed at him. At least, I assumed it was loaded. If it wasn’t, at least it would be a not-so-hilarious story to tell Charity later.

For all that Dad accused my sister of being impetuous, Charity had certainly never had a shotgun held on her.

“What is this? Who the hell are you? How many of you are there?” Mr. Daniels questioned, panic rising. The shoulders in front of me rose as if he were preparing to— “No, don’t speak! All lies! You claim jumpers are all full of lies!”

Well, that story changed quickly.

The man reached back, hooked his hand around my waist, and tugged me closer. I tensed, even though the violation of my personal space was nothing compared to the shotgun pointed at us. His arm was a vise, locking me in place with casual strength. Just like freshman year when— I cut myself right off. There’s no way.

“Be careful,” I said softly to the stranger. “He has Alzheimer’s. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

He pulled me tighter against his back, and the scent of mint and pine filled my nose as he started to shift in tiny movements so my back was to the trees and not the ravine. God, that smell… I knew it.

“We’re just hikers,” he said to Mr. Daniels, low and slow.

Certainty slammed into me with the force of an avalanche, knocking the breath from my lungs. My eyes fluttered shut as I swam through the flood of memories, desperately hoping I wasn’t the one hallucinating right now.

“Cam,” I whispered, letting my forehead rest against his back as I gripped a fistful of his coat.

“Are you okay, Willow?” he asked, so softly that I would have gone with the hallucination theory if I hadn’t felt his deep voice rumble through his chest.

I nodded, the fabric of his coat soft against my skin. Maybe Mr. Daniels had already pulled the trigger. Maybe I’d never felt the impact. Maybe he’d killed me instantly. That was the only logical explanation for Cam’s presence.

Because Camden Daniels had sworn the only way he’d ever come back to Alba was to be buried here. But he felt so real. So solid. Smelled exactly like I remembered. And if I were really dead, wouldn’t it be Sullivan’s arms around me? Not Cam’s. It could never be Cam. Not for me.

I followed Cam’s almost-imperceptible lead as he backed us away from his father.