If she were braver, she would jump the small fence and keep running. But she couldn’t bring herself to step into those woods.

Wendy doubled over, bracing her elbows on her thighs as she stared down at her dirty bare feet, gasping for breath. The smell of pine trees and heavy summer air filled her lungs.

Maybe she should go back to Jordan’s house. Leave her parents a note and just stay the night there. Maybe being near Jordan would settle her nerves and keep back all the memories creeping out of the woods.

Maybe, if she could just suck it up and get herself together, her thoughts wouldn’t spiral out of control. She could feel herself deteriorating under that sense of impending doom, inescapable fear, and a tiredness no amount of sleep could fix.

Maybe—

“Wendy?”

Her head shot up.

There he stood as if he’d just materialized from the fallen leaves on the ground.

Peter.

His eyes were impossible to evade and trapped her immediately. They were such an impossible shade of blue. The bright, cosmic flecks were no trick of the fluorescent lights in the hospital. She could see them clear as day now.

He perched on the fence, one leg extended down. His bare foot hovered just above the ground. It was the stance of someone trying not to scare off a bird.

“Wendy, why are you crying?” he asked gently. That voice was so familiar, like she’d known it her entire life.

She wanted to believe it was him, but her body reacted like he was dangerous. A wild animal, something that belonged in the woods she was so afraid of.

Wendy blinked away her blurry vision. A scream for help welled up in her lungs but couldn’t escape. Her arms were heavy and useless at her sides.

Peter jumped to the ground, a landing so light that she didn’t even hear it, though a loud roar was rising in her ears. He held out his hands at his sides, palms forward in surrender.

Wendy took a step back. “No, stop,” was all she could muster.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brilliant eyes searching her face. That crease between his eyebrows was back.

Wendy made a strangled noise that was something between a laugh and a cry. This wasn’t happening. She had to get out of here. He couldn’t be Peter Pan. He was a stranger with too many connections to her nightmares.

What if the detectives were right? What if he had been with her during those missing six months?

He stepped closer.

“Please, don’t.” Her feet tripped over each other as she tried to take another step back. He was right in front of her now. Wendy turned to run, only to collide with something hard. The last thing she remembered before it all went black was the clanking of swings and arms catching her.

CHAPTER 7

Crickets