Chapter 25

Grant hovers over me, his face centimeters from mine. My back presses into the nylon so hard I start to skid with it.

There's a sound—a sharp intake of breath—and I recover my footing in time to see Jacey cover her face, sneakers sliding in the dirt as she spins around.

Grant jerks away, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

"Wait!" I call, sliding out from between Grant and the tent while he's distracted. "We weren't—it isn't—"

But what was it? I don't even know.

Jacey looks from him to me, her face red. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Grant stands there with slumped shoulders.

"Savannah?" she asks.

I'm too weak to think or move. "I don't know," I say, even though a moment ago, I was certain my boyfriend was about to go Van Helsing on me with a tent stake. A stake that's now hidden behind his back. "Grant, put it down," I plead, stepping toward Jacey, who gapes at him in confusion.

"Savannah, you're scaring me," Jacey says. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," I snap.

Grant straightens now, moving closer and pushing himself right between us. "Have you lost your mind?" His tan skin is flushed pink. With anger? "I wasn't going to hurt you," he hisses at me. "I was trying to get you to keep your voice down." But the stake is still at his side, his fingers curled around it.

"Okay," Jacey says, flashing me a warning look. "Message received." She tugs on my arm, but Grant blocks our path.

"Wait." He lets the stake fall in the dirt, a display of passivity. But he's tense. I glance down at his hands, empty now, but still balled so tightly the blue veins pop. My gaze moves to his shirt, to where he missed a button this morning.

I can't stop staring at that undone button. It's like a fly on a TV screen. Everything in me wants to button it, because that's what girlfriends do. But I don't dare reach out.

"You can't just blab about this stuff in front of the whole camp," Grant whispers. "You have to keep quiet until we can get down the hill to safety."

The words should sound protective. He's trying to keep us safe.

Still. The way my boyfriend says keep quiet makes every hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"Okay, Grant," Jacey says, attempting to push past him. "We'll keep quiet. Promise."

But he doesn't back up to let her pass.

"Did you—" I start to ask, even though it's a stupid question, maybe even a deadly question. But I have to know. "Do you know something about what happened to Piper? Did you see her that day?"

The letter c . Maybe it didn't stand for coach after all.

Maybe it stood for captain .

Grant sighs loudly through his clenched teeth. He rubs at the back of his neck again, hard enough to leave a mark. "I'm sorry," he says, looking straight at me.

And my heart stops beating.