Page 4 of Open Secrets
He slowed, frowning. “What? That call — it was my sister. If I told her I was on a date, she’d tell my mom. Then mom would’ve made me come home.”
“Oh.” My voice came out flat. “Your mama doesn’t let you date?”
He shook his head. “We move too much. She doesn’t want me getting attached.”
I bit my lip, staring at the dirt path. “Then why ask me out?”
He shrugged, crooked smile flashing. “I liked you. Still do.”
“Oh,” I muttered, walking faster, letting silence eat the space between us.
We broke out into a clearing just as the sun dropped lower. I squinted, scanning the tree line. “Huh.”
“Huh what?” Lyle asked, stepping beside me.
“I guess it’s that way.”
“You guess?” His voice carried too loud in the open space.
I shrugged, unfazed. “What, you think I spent my childhood hiking these woods?”
“So we’re lost,” he said flat, stalking after me anyway.
“Of course not.” But my voice didn’t sound nearly as confident as I wanted it to.
We keep moving, the dirt path narrowing until it’s more roots than trail. Branches whip at my arms, mosquitos buzz in my ears, sweat sticks my dress to my back.
After a while, Lyle stops. He plants his hands on his hips, breathing heavy, sweat darkening the collar of his shirt. “We should rest.”
I spin back on him, swatting a mosquito off my arm. “If we stop, the bugs’ll eat us alive.”
He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “Better that than wandering blind in circles.”
I shake my head hard. “No. We keep moving. There’s gotta be a road out here. Or a signal. Something.”
Lyle looks around like the trees might part if he glares hard enough. “You don’t even know where we’re going.”
“Better than sitting like bait.” I shove past him, branches snapping against my legs. “We’ll find our way.”
He groans but falls into step behind me, his sneakers crunching against dead leaves. “You realize your dad’s going to lose his mind when we don’t come back by curfew.”
“He already lost it,” I mutter. “But yeah, he’ll be looking. Which means we move. If we stay put, he’ll find the car first and assume we’re dead in a ditch.”
“Comforting,” Lyle mutters.
“What about your parents?” I asked as we trudged on. “You said your mom’s overprotective. She’s bound to come looking.”
He shook his head, grabbing a branch off the ground. “Told her I was staying at Connor’s. Said we had a thing.”
“Right,” I muttered. “A thing.”
We stopped again about ten minutes later. My calves burned, and his shirt was plastered to his chest. He leaned against a tree, taking deep breaths. I fanned my face, slapping gnats away from my legs.
“You good?” he asked.
“Fine.” The word snapped sharper than I meant. I sighed. “Look, I know this sucks. But the only way out’s forward. You reallywant my daddy tromping through here with a shotgun, hollering my name like I’m twelve?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Depends. Would he shoot me first, or make me help him?”
