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“Tate Wilder, don’t you start with that,” she scolds me. Then she sighs. “You know what? That girl’s been sleeping enough, I’ll wake her.”

“You don’t⁠—”

I don’t get the chance to finish before she disappears, shutting the door. I clasp my hands between my knees and pull in a deep breath. The goal is to steady myself, but all I do is make myself hotter.

I think maybe it’s anxiety over what I’m about to do.

The door cracks open and Faye appears. She’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and even though Candy said she’d been napping, there are dark circles around her eyes that tell me she’s not sleeping well.

“Hi,” she croaks.

I stand, rubbing the back of my neck. Her eyes follow the movement, tipping up, up, and up before finally landing on mine.

She’s tiny, I think. She’s always been tiny, but she feels smaller now, somehow.

“I-uh-I texted you.”

“Oh.” She gets a wrinkle between her brows. I want to smooth it out the same way I want to smooth out every worry that dares touch her. “I turned my phone off.”

“Right.” We both know why she did that.

She doesn’t want to talk to Holt. She’s not prepared to face the reality of her situation quite yet.

Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready, either. Still, I ask, “Feel like taking a walk with me?”

Her eyes bounce from the street to mine. “A walk?”

“Yeah, you know, exercise.”

Her lips twist to the side in contemplation. I think she’s going to reject me, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do if she does. It’s not like I can throw my brother’s girl over my shoulder and hijack a life that was never meant to be mine.

Or maybe…

“Sure.” She cuts into my thoughts, and thank fuck, because they were getting a little crazy there for a minute.

Faye starts for the porch steps, and I follow close behind. We cross the street side by side, moving toward the path in the trees that will lead us to the river behind the house. It’s fairly tame as river’s go. It could probably even be called a creek, if it weren’t for the rage of spring run-off that spills down from the mountains.

Now, though, it’s August and we haven’t had a whole lot of rain. The water is shallow and calm where it trickles over river rocks, polished smooth under years of rushing water.

Neither of us speak as we make it to the river, and I note how Faye looks at the large rock that can easily fit us both—I know because we’ve sat on it side by side before. There’s worry in her eyes now as she passes the big rock in favor of slipping off her sandals and stepping carefully into the water.

I watch as she lowers onto another rock, fully surrounded by the trickle of cool water. With her bare feet in the stream, she finally looks at me.

Softly, a little shyly, she says, “Thanks for yesterday.”

I dip my chin because words feel thick in my throat. I lower to the big rock, taking space since I’m not sharing it with her. “How’s the nausea?”

She shrugs. “Better, I suppose.”

“Have you eaten?”

Her lips twist to the side again, brown eyes drifting to the other side of the river. “I had some toast this morning.”

“You need to eat, Faye.”

She nods but doesn’t reply. I didn’t come here to scold her.

Pulling deep breath into tight lungs, I lean forward. Her eyes are tracing the opposite bank, but mine are fixed on her.