I wasn’t sure how long we’d sat in silence when that question finally broke it. “Would you tell me?”

Bales didn’t answer.

“Why bring Cady back here?” I asked, climbing to my feet. “Why this search?”

I wasn’t sure I’d get an answer. I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d asked.

“Because,” Bales replied gruffly, closing his eyes, “it’s not the things you can’t find that haunt you. It’s when you choose not to look.”

Chapter 26

What Bales had said nipped, needle-sharp, at the edges of my mind. The last thing I wanted to do was surround myself with walls, but when night fell and the storm rolled in off the mountain, I forced myself to take refuge inside.

It’s not the things you can’t find that haunt you. Bales hadn’t been talking about me. I knew that, but as the hours wore on, it became harder and harder for me to think of anything else. It’s when you choose not to look.

I’d stopped searching for Bella. I’d pulled back. And, a voice deep inside me whispered, I’d never looked for answers about my own past—the nightmares, the woods, how I’d survived, why there had been no family to claim me.…

The front door creaked open, snapping me out of it. The world came instantly into focus. There was a mug of hot chocolate sitting on the floor beside me, ringed in a confetti heart—clearly, a present from Jude. He wasn’t the one who’d opened the front door, though.

Cady was.

“You got somewhere to stay?” I heard her ask gruffly.

“I imagine I can rustle something up.”

I couldn’t see Mac, but I recognized his voice. For a moment, I was back in the cave, lying flat on my stomach opposite Saskia, trusting him to do no harm—to her, to me.

“You are not sleeping in your car.” There was no give whatsoever in Cady’s voice. “Or the barn.” She stalked into the house, banged open a linen closet, and unceremoniously shoved a bundle of blankets in Mac’s general direction. He stepped into the house, and a moment later, his gaze fell on me.

I’d been sitting with my feet flat on the ground and my knees in the air, my weight braced against my palms in what Cady referred to as my “ready position.”

Ready to jump to my feet.

Ready to skitter backward.

Ready to fight.

“Waiting up to see if I made it home by curfew?” Cady asked me.

I shrugged. “Something like that.”

She squatted down opposite me and nodded toward the mug of hot chocolate. “I’m guessing the confetti wasn’t your idea.”

I snorted and shifted my weight, lowering my knees. She held out a hand, and when I took it, she stood and pulled me to my feet. The motion was utterly familiar.