Page 56 of What I Should Have Known

“Bernie,” the woman whispered again.

A gentle hand plunked down on my arm, and I snapped my gaze from the floating thing but kept the gun aimed at it. Searing, deep blue eyes watched me. Disheveled, frizzy hair waved in the morning breeze around a face of tenderness. A face I knew.

In a world that existed.

“Hey,” Kat gently said.

I pulled my eyelids down and inhaled deeply, dropping the gun to my side as I released the lever, uncocking the revolver.

“Hi,” Kat’s warm, tender voice sifted through the dark mud licking at my thoughts again, and her hand slithered down my arm, brushing across my fingers.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“It’s fine. But where’d you getthatgun?” she asked.

Without opening my eyes, I dipped my chin against my chest. “I’ve had it the whole time.” The weapon that no longer collected dust in my glove box had found a permanent spot in my waistband since the rodeo.

Fingers quickly whispered across my cheek, and I finally pried my eyelids open, latching onto her gaze again. Like the spring breeze giving way to summer, there was nothing but empathy flickering behind her longing.

“There’s nothing actually there, is there?” I questioned, and her brows pulled tightly together. She merely gave me a tight smile.

Turning hesitantly back to where the creature had once been, my stomach dropped to the sleeping bag curled up beneath Kat and me.

Someone was there.

A man who looked eerily like Kat. Someone I’d met yesterday. “Sawyer,” I muttered and pushed away from Kat’s body. “Shit man, I’m sorry…”

His hands, still raised beside his shoulders, twitched in sync with his gaze darting between Kat and me. He remained absolutely still otherwise. The morning sun just peeking over the mountaintops glinted off of the large buckle holding his jeans around his waist. A black vest adorned over his striped button-up shirt, and the cowboy hat resting on his head struggled to hide his curly hair.

“How long have you been there?” Kat asked, sitting up beside me as her cheeks bloomed a little pink.

Sawyer’s eyes darted back to mine briefly, then returned to Kat’s. “Long enough to have seen you two spooning before he pulled a fucking gun on me.” He lowered his voice, finally dropping his hands to his side, and stepped a little closer to Kat. “What the hell are you doing out here with him?”

Kat pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her baggy sweatshirt. “We were just talking and kinda fell asleep.”

Sawyer ran a hand over his face, a dusting of stubble along his thin jawline. “And if Wyatt had seen this instead of me? Or Dad? What then?”

“I’m a grown-ass adult.”

“Who’s out here being cuddled by someone who isn’t Wyatt.” Sawyer closed his eyes and paced away.

“Why does everyone else get a choice but me?” Kat grumbled, brushing some dust from her pants.

“Do you not realize how dangerous it would be if someone else, like Dad, had caught you out here with him not Wyatt? Or even more so alone?” Sawyer suddenly stopped pacing and rushed back to Kat.

“But she’s not alone?” I questioned, a strange shiver alerting me to something I wasn’t sure of ran up my spine.

“Neither of us knew that,” Sawyer answered, his eyes darting back and forth.

“Who’s ‘us’?” I tipped my head, pushing myself upright and scanning the ground. A brief sensation of relief rippled through me as my eyes caught sight of Muffin, stretching with a yawn, but still on her blanket.

Sawyer snapped his lips together and blinked rapidly.

“I won’t ask again,” I hissed, rising to my feet, and the dull headache that had been building rushed away as adrenaline and focus drilled into the opening left by a fleeting hangover.

Sawyer took a single step backward.

“Who’s ‘us’? It doesn’t sound like anyone else is awake, yet. We’re close enough to camp I’d hear feet shuffling or people talking, maybe the crackle of a fire if others were awake. So, who’s ‘us’?” I asked.

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