Page 62 of The Rivals' Touch

I look at the deer again, watching it flick its ear.

Abigail props her chin on my shoulder and sighs contentedly. “I wish my mom was here to see this.”

As the breeze lifts my hair off my neck, I swallow thickly and breathe in the smell of the damp forest. “You’ll have to tell her about this moment later.”

“I will.”

The deer lifts its head, ears moving this way and that.

“Think it can hear us?” she asks.

I nod, my eyes on the big animal. “Yes.”

“It doesn’t think we’re a threat.”

“But it’s cautious anyway.”

Abigail’s breath hits my skin when she sweeps her eyes over my face. “It’s the best way to be.” Then she looks back at the deer.

“We might have to stay here all day. It doesn’t look in any hurry to leave.”

“I could think of worse places to be.”

A loud shout from somewhere in the distance startles the deer, and it runs off into the trees.

Abigail lifts her chin off my shoulder and walks on ahead. “I know the way.”

I tear my gaze away from where I last saw the deer and set off after her. “That’s good. At least we won’t get lost. I’m not a survivalist by any means. I would last maybe two days tops, lost in the woods by myself.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be alone. I’m here, and I can shoot that deer with no problem if you give me a bow and arrow.”

I step over a fallen tree. “There are a few problems with that theory. Firstly, I would have to make you a bow and arrow, which brings us back to problem one—I’m not a survivalist. I wouldn’t know how to make one. Secondly, how do you know how to shoot a bow and arrow? Have you taken classes or something?”

She sniggers, peering at me over her shoulder. “I don’t know how to shoot a bow and arrow, so we would probably starve to death. I just didn’t want to sound all doom and gloom.”

I laugh. “Great! You better know the way to town because I’ve already lost track of where we are.”

She waves me off. “Just listen for the sound of students at the end of the school day. We’ll soon figure it out.”

* * *

When I arrive home from the movie theater, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end when I step out of the taxi and spot my father’s car. He’s home a day early.

I thank the taxi driver and pull the door shut, my eyes on the lit-up windows of the house.

Why is he home already?

I had a lovely time with Abigail at the movies, but now it’s tainted by the dread coursing through my veins. If given a choice, I would get back in the taxi and let him take me far away from here; somewhere my father could never find me.

The gravel crunches beneath the car’s wheels as it rolls down the winding driveway. The sun has set, and the smell of late evening is thick in the air.

Gathering my courage, I ascend the steps to the front door.

The house is quiet and dark.

I leave the lights off and sneak upstairs, my feet padding on the stairs.

When I step inside my room, I pause. Zayd is watching TV on my bed, dressed in a pair of gray joggers and a white t-shirt.

---