“It’s there right above our heads. It’s only smoky because the leaves are wet. I had a hell of a time getting the fire to catch.”

I prod the back of my head and suck in a breath sharply as my stomach swoops in pain. I swallow back bile and pull my fingers away to see blood. A lot of it. My stomach roils again. This isn’t good.

“Did you hit me?” I ask, incredulous.

“I told them I didn’t want anyone to come find me.”

“Yeah, well, apparently, ‘Leave me alone with my feelings’ isn’t a federally approved excuse to miss your probation check-in.”

His eyes narrow, taking me in fully. I swallow against another wave of dizziness, my breath caught in my throat. Can he tell?

“I wasn’t skipping out on my probation, I wanted to be left to die. Who are you anyway? Your coat says Search and Rescue. With what agency?”

“You seriously don’t know me?”

He blinks in the growing firelight, clearly uncomfortable. This is definitely not how I pictured this going down, particularly since I suspect my dad is the reason my skull feels like it’s been cracked open.

“I’ve been in prison, kid,” he scoffs.

“Yeah. I know. For nearly six years. You missed my baseball tryouts.”

His grizzled jawline jerks in recognition.

“Micah?”

I nod, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain.

After a long pause, he shakes his head. “Unbelievable. Of all the people—” he mutters. “I just wanted to be left alone.” He glances up at the ceiling of the cave as if he’s praying. “Enough already! And all of a sudden, my long-lost kid turns up to save the day—”

I cut him off, fighting tunnel vision. I’m going to lose consciousness again soon, and this self-absorbed asshole is more concerned with his failed suicide mission. “First of all, I’m not your long-lost kid. I’ve been here all along. You were the lost one.” He’s cradling his arm to his chest when I focus on him. “What happened to you?”

“Your dog doesn’t like me.”

That makes me happy, at least. I rub Cash behind the ears, crooning weakly, “Gooood boyyyy, Cash. Such a good boy.” Cash licks my face with another whine. If it’s possible for a dog to look concerned, he does. Yeah. This is not ideal. I squint in the darkness, trying to get my bearings, but my head throbs with every blink, and all I want to do is close my eyes and take a nap.

Fuck, this was a bad idea.

“I can’t believe it’s really you. You’re grown.”

“It was bound to happen.”

“How tall are you?”

I level him with a look. Or at least I try to. “Where’s my phone? We need to get out of here. What time is it?”

“I crushed it. Threw it against a rock.”