Emily adjusts her spot beside Hayley. Madison is still crouched close, but I can see that Emily is moving awkwardly. Whatever’s wrong with her ankle, it’s bad.
“She won’t be able to walk,” I whisper. “And Hayley is wrecked.”
“Plus, Mr. Walker could be following us,” Lucas says with a sigh.
Jude nods, and something in his expression cracks when he looks back at Emily. I know that look. It’s the way I look at Sophie when she’s in the midst of a panic attack. Or the way Dad looks at me every day.
It’s compassion. Worry. And it’s so much bigger than the nine letters on his arm.
“I’m sorry for trying to define you.” I say it because I’m not sorry for whatever now. I know what I did wrong.
Jude just raises his brows, his expression revealing nothing.
I scrape a nail across the D in Darling. “Whether I meant to or not, I did wonder about you. I made my guesses too, even though I didn’t know you at all. I had no right. Your dating preferences have nothing to do with me. That’s what I’m sorry for.”
I force myself to meet Jude’s eyes, and he watches me for what feels like forever. It isn’t comfortable, but I don’t look away. Looking away would cheapen everything I just said, and the words aren’t worth much as they stand.
“Better,” he says, and his sudden smile surprises me as much as his soft words. “I don’t talk about it because I’ve seen the way people react to my dads.”
“Is it hard?” This from Lucas. His soft sincerity surprises me.
“Not always. Lots of people want to be supportive, and most people try. But there’s always this moment when they hesitate. They’re thinking about it, trying to sort it all out. Should Pop go in the dentist box or the gay father box?”
“More labels,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “I was born into a stack of them. Cello prodigy. Person of color. Gay dads. I just want this part of me to be mine for now.”
My chest blooms with warmth, and I try to bite back my smile. And fail spectacularly. “I think I get that.”
“No, you don’t,” he says, but he smiles just enough that his words don’t sting.
There’s a rustling across camp, and I see Emily waving her hands gently, softly encouraging Madison to head out. My stomach flutters. Tightens.
“What’s happening?” Lucas asks.
No one really answers. Madison checks Hayley one more time, pushes a hunk of her own sticky hair behind her shoulder, and stumbles into the trees. Her footsteps are loud at first but then softer and softer until they fade.
I lock on to Emily’s gaze, and for one split second, I think this is it. We’ll all run. We’ll be out. Then Emily struggles to her feet, like she wants to approach. Her ankle buckles, and her face contorts. Jude swears, and we trip over each other trying to get to her.
I crouch down next to her, smelling sweat and blood and fecund things from the forest floor. Emily’s letting out short puffs of air with a little whine at the end of each one.
“What can we do?” I ask.
“How long do we have?” Jude asks.
“She’s using the bathroom,” she says. “Stomach issues, but who knows.”
“I’ll carry you,” Lucas says. “We’ll run.”
“No.” Emily pushes his hands away hard and closes her fingers around my wrist. “You need to go. I can’t leave Hayley.”
“We can’t leave you,” I argue. “After the way Hayley acted, we can’t let you stay here with Madison.”
“She’s right,” Jude says. “Something’s very wrong with that girl.”
“Yeah, everything that’s happened is wrong with her. She’s crazy, but she’s not behind this,” Emily says. “I’d bet my life on that.”
If we leave, I’m afraid that’s exactly what she’ll have to do.
“But everyone from her camp is dead or in very real trouble,” I whisper softly. “And she has a thing for Lucas.”
“If it is her, it’s the two of you this is about,” she says. She gestures at us. “More reason for you to go. Just send help fast.”
“What if she hurts you?”
“If Madison is after someone, it’s not me,” Emily says, voice hard. “I know when someone’s going to hurt me.”
I study her red-rimmed eyes and stringy hair. I think about the old bruises I saw in the tent, the ones on her arms.
They were shaped like fingers, and I know why now. My throat feels thick. Emily catches me looking and clamps her hands over her biceps.
“Emily.” I say it like a prayer.
“Please go,” she says again. “I’m fine. Just hurry.”
“They can go. I’m staying,” Jude says.
“No,” Emily says.
“Yes.”
“You should be looking out for yourself,” Emily tells him.
“Excuse me for evolving some empathy.” Jude’s words bite, but his look is gentle. “We can watch her better together. If she tries something, she’ll have two of us to deal with.”