the packet of ibuprofen. He handed them to her with a bottled water, and she sat up to take them.
“What time is it?” she asked once she’d downed the pills.
He checked his watch. “Almost three. Sorry I woke you. Sorry I—” Slugged you in the face? Tackled you to the ground? Scared the ever-loving snot out of you?
“I’m a tough cookie.” She squeezed his hand and lay back against her pack. “Must’ve been some dream.”
The nightmare traipsed through his mind before he could stop it. At least he’d awakened before the worst of it. Before his mom’s voice had gone quiet. Before the hours he’d cowered in the corner of that tent, trembling, listening desperately for her voice. Waiting for her return. “Yeah.”
“Not uncommon after what you went through.”
How did she—? Oh, she was talking about the shooting.
“I should’ve known better than to wake you like that.”
He didn’t want to talk about it. “We should probably get a little more sleep. Try to keep that cold pack in place.”
He helped her back into her sleeping bag, noting her wince as she settled, trapping the cold pack between her cheek and the backpack. Then he dragged his own bag a few extra feet away just in case.
Weariness weighted his shoulders, but he wouldn’t sleep any more tonight. He’d lie awake and make sure he wasn’t a danger to Grace.
Chapter Twenty
Grace stirred and pain stilled her movement. Her head ached. So did her arms and back—her whole body really. The night came rushing back. The nightmare, the strike, the lightning-quick tackle.
She opened her eyes to the soft gray light of dawn. A small fire burned in the fireplace and the rain had finally stopped.
She felt the puffiness of her swollen cheek. She tested her limbs and found them stiff and achy. Nothing a little movement wouldn’t improve.
She glanced toward Wyatt’s pallet, but he was gone. The place where his sleeping bag had lain was barren. The sight brought her fully awake. She pushed up. “Wyatt?”
The picnic table blocked the area behind her, and the frayed edges of night still clung to the woods around the shelter. She listened for sounds of movement but heard only the quiet drips of water falling from treetops to the padded forest floor.
Her heartbeat thrummed in her aching head. “Wyatt?”
A scuttling sound came from behind her.
“You’re awake.” He appeared above the picnic table, looking like he’d been up for hours. Upon sight of her, he flinched.
She touched her cheek. “That bad?”
“Bad enough I wish I had more ibuprofen.”
“I have a packet in my bag.” She scrounged around for it, because, yes, her head was cranking. She found the pills and downed them, then glanced up at Wyatt. For a man with a poker face, he was wearing regret this morning like a neon suit.
“Don’t you dare apologize again. It probably looks worse than it feels.” She didn’t have a mirror to confirm that, but she couldn’t stand that he was beating himself up over this. She knew he’d never intentionally hurt her.
She stretched. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven. The sun’ll be rising soon, but we can wait till the painkillers kick in.”
She pushed out of the bag, feeling every muscle ache. “Not necessary. We may as well pack up and hit the road.”
“We’re already packed except your bag.”
She was on her feet now and looking around. Sure enough, his sleeping bag was rolled and attached to his backpack. The clothes she had drying were folded and lying on the hearth. The water collection system he’d rigged was gone. His backpack bulged with at least seven full water bottles.
“How long have you been up?”
“Awhile.” He turned the picnic table upright and set down two apples and a bag of peanuts. “Let’s fuel up and head out then.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Aahh!” Grace said as they came down the hill that turned onto Bayview Drive. “Civilization at last.”
It was late in the day. The sun had already set behind the mountains. The last of the pain pills had worn off long ago, and her head throbbed with each step. Otherwise, the walk had been easy.
“Now we just have to get to the trailhead where we left your car.”
“It’s not far.”
People were out and about. Boats on the lake. Joggers out for evening exercise. People driving to restaurants for supper. She considered borrowing a phone, but they were almost home, and she didn’t want to hear Molly squawking in her ear yet.
When they reached the car, Grace gratefully let the backpack fall off