“Everything okay?” the guy yelled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bear answered. “Dead deer,” he said, and then waved them on.

“Shannon,” he said to me, quiet and terse.

My throat felt like it was bleeding. He pulled me to standing. My head was light and I had to hold on to his arms, he had to hold me upright.

“What did you do?” I said.

“What did I do?” Bear asked, sharp. I watched behind him as the dog went back to the door but was quiet. He sniffed, his head low and cautious.

“Did you do this?” I said again, my voice like it had razors in it. “What we talked about,” I said. I held my hand out toward the house. “The house,” I said. “The boy,” I said. “The one who died,” I whispered. I felt crazy. Like I was putting together pieces of a bad dream.

He put his hands on my shoulders, heavy, and I felt like he was pressing me into the ground, or like he was the only thing holding me to earth. “Do you think I’m out of my fucking mind?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, my eyes wide. I gasped again. “You want the truth?” I said. “Yes, I do. I’m fucking terrified,” I said.

I started to scream again, and I thought he was going to hit me, but he covered my mouth. Behind his palm, my face broke open and all that came out was crying, my cheeks wet and my mouth open. When he let go, my belly caved in, and I fell up against him.

He held me for a moment, just his arms around my back, his hand rubbing. Then he picked my face up.

“Did you?” he asked.

I felt hollow. I thought the answer was obvious, but I’d done so many strange things since I’d met him, I wasn’t sure of anything.

“Me?” I said.

“What happened?” he asked again, as if I knew. Then he said, “It’s why I told you. I can get you out of it,” he said. “If you did.”

“I didn’t do it,” I said.

He looked hard at me.

“I was in your bed all night,” I said, and he nodded, but his eyes were sly, shifting. “So were you,” I added, but I knew, as soon as I said it, that when I finally fell asleep, I’d had no idea if he was there or not. And the same was true of me for him.

“Listen to me,” he said, holding my face. “Listen.”

There was so much blood. I looked, panicked, at my own shoes, but it didn’t look like I’d stepped in it. I screamed for Buddy not to go in. I couldn’t imagine getting blood off his white paws. I thought of him leaving prints all over the model home, the floors, the white bed, of my mother’s blood.

I tried to get free to go back into the house.

“Shannon,” he warned.

I wailed under his grip, and he put his hand over my mouth again, even tighter. My nose flared and I reeled it in. His stare was hard. His eyes a weird bright green in the forest light.