"Gin?"
"I don't know," I finally said in a soft voice. "You . . . you broke my heart, Owen."
"I know," he said, his face tight with guilt. "I know how much I hurt you. But I promise you this, Gin, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. And if it takes you some time to trust me again, to love me again, then that's okay. Days, weeks, months, years. I don't care.
Because I'll wait for you. I would wait forever for you."
All the love that I had for him welled up inside me, blotting out everything else - except for a tiny, stubborn whisper of doubt in the deepest, darkest, blackest part of my heart. I almost said yes then, but I held back at the last possible moment.
Because I couldn't ignore that tiny whisper and all the dread and fear that it brought along with it. Because I still remembered how it had felt to lose Owen. Because I didn't want to go through that kind of heartbreak again.
And it could happen - easily. Because I was the Spider, for better or worse, and I would always be the Spider.
There would always be some sort of trouble headed in my direction, someone targeting me, someone wanting to murder me, and it would be all too easy for Owen and me to end up right back where we'd been after I'd killed Salina.
"I don't know," I whispered. "I just . . . I just don't know."
Owen gave me a small, understanding smile, although I could see the disappointment in his face. "And that's okay too."
We didn't speak for a moment.
"come on," he said, his voice rough with emotion.
"Lie back down. It's been a long day, and we still have to hike out in the morning. You need your rest."
He wrapped his arms around me, and together, we lay down on the sleeping bag and faced the fire. His rich, metallic scent once again filled my nose, mixing pleasantly with the woodsmoke, and the warmth of his body enveloped mine, driving away the last of my lingering chill.
I thought about everything that Owen had said and all the emotions that I'd seen flashing in his eyes - heat, desire, need, want, love, and hope. So much hope. A few hours ago, I'd thought that I'd never see him again, and
I would have done anything to have had one more moment with him. Now here Owen was, proclaiming his love for me, and I suddenly couldn't let him back into my heart.
I could face down a psychopath like Harley Grimes any day of the week, but ask me to open up and risk my heart, and I reverted to that scared, angry, lonely little girl who'd lost her family and had vowed never to let anyone get too close again.
There was no maybe about it. I was definitely a coward.
Tonight, at least.
Chapter Twenty-five
A splash of sunlight on my face woke me early the next morning.
I squinted against the warm, golden glow. The fire was cold, but Owen must have covered me with the sleeping bag sometime during the night, because the fabric was tucked in all around me, making me feel like a mummy.
Even though I could have easily drifted back to sleep, I untucked one corner of the sleeping bag, threw the silky material aside, and sat up. I blinked a few times, trying to throw off the last comfortable, drowsy dregs of sleep.
"Owen?" I called out.
He didn't answer me, and I finally realized that he was nowhere in sight. Not sleeping behind me, not crouched over the remains of the fire, not stretching his legs by walking back and forth in front of the rocky outcropping that I was still lying under.
For a moment, I was confused, wondering if perhaps I'd just dreamed that he was here the night before, but then I spotted his backpack, and I realized that he must be around somewhere. Maybe he'd gone to get some fresh water from the river, so we'd have something to drink on our hike back to the parking lot. Either way, I needed to answer the call of nature, so to speak, so I got to my feet - and then wished that I hadn't.
I was bruised, battered, and sore from head to toe.
Blues, greens, purples, and yellows had blossomed like flowers overnight on my arms, mottling my skin from my shoulders all the way down to my fingertips. Given the stiffness in my muscles, I imagined that I had even more bruises on my back, chest, and legs, not to mention the burns and blisters from Grimes's and Hazel's Fire magic, which pulsed with tight, throbbing pain. Rolling down the river hadn't been my best idea, but it had gotten me away from Grimes, which was all that really mattered.
I gingerly touched the bandage over the gunshot wound in my shoulder. Lucky for me, it was a through - and-through, and Owen had rubbed plenty of Jo-Jo's healing salve on it. The wound was tender to the touch, but it wasn't bleeding, and it didn't have the hot, aching feel of infection. Maybe if cooper was up to it, I'd get him to heal me when we got to his house.
Because the sooner I was better, the sooner I could kill Harley Grimes, Hazel, and every other person on this damn mountain.