Page 46 of In Too Deep
Just Meg.Broken pieces and all.
And after all she’d shared—every ugly truth, every failure—he still wanted her to stay.
He hadn’t said it.Nope.He’d told her he supported her going to Pennsylvania.That he understood.That he wanted what was best for her.
But one thing she’d learned after two years of friendship was his tells.The tic in his jaw.The way his thumb rubbed over where his ring once sat.He only did those things when he was…well, maybe not lying, but definitely not being transparent.
She used to think it was when he thought of Mary.But now she suspected it was more than that.Now she wondered if those tells showed up when he was holding back what he really wanted.
And despite his words that she should go, she’d put money on the fact that he wanted her to stay.
He just wouldn’t admit it.Couldn’t risk it.Still too afraid of loss.
Which had always been their problem.Both of them too scared to reach for what they wanted.
So maybe Pennsylvania was the answer.A lab job.Controlled.Safe.Predictable.
But if it was the answer, then why did the thought of a sterile lab feel like a failure?Like giving up?Like dying slowly instead of living messily?
Noah’s words bounced back.You get joy from helping people.
She couldn’t deny it.
The memory of stitching Nimue’s hand—watching the wound close.Checking Noah’s back—her fingers finding the problem.Comforting that little girl with the split head—drying tears, making fear manageable.It filled her with a sense of purpose like nothing else.
Maybe Pennsylvania was running, not healing.Just a different kind of hiding.
But what about the times she froze?Panicked?How did she reconcile the moments of joy with the fear?
“Watch your step here.”Noah’s voice cut through the rain’s roar.He pointed to a section of trail where the path narrowed, eroded by runoff.
Meg tightened her grip on her shoulder straps.Her boots slipped slightly—her heart lurching—but found purchase.She was keeping up.Her legs strong despite the mud.
Noah glanced back.His eyes met hers briefly.No doubt checking her anxiety level.
She nodded.Signaling she was fine.
Her heart steadied.No tightness.No racing pulse.No tunnel vision.
Not yet.
She was managing.Her focus on each step.Each breath.
The group reached a sharp bend.Noah stopped abruptly, raised a hand—the universal signal for danger.
When he didn’t move, Meg peered past his tall frame.
The trail ahead was eighty percent gone.Wiped out by a mudslide leaving a gaping scar of loose dirt and rock—and six inches of ledge to connect where it picked up twenty feet ahead.
Just six inches before the canyon dropped steeply below.A two-hundred-foot plunge.
Noah stepped forward, testing the edge with his boot.
It held for a moment.Then crumbled.Gave way like sugar.
He lurched back.Steadied himself on a nearby boulder, arms windmilling.
Meg’s stomach clenched.Her hand shot out, grabbed his arm.
