She glanced around nervously, anticipation etched into every line of her face. The words rushed out in a hurried tumble.

"You just had to let Pretoria see you, didn't you? Now she won't shut up about you—" She jabbed a finger in my direction, her voice dripping with frustration, "—and believe me, that's not a good thing."

I shifted back, unsure of how this conversation had spiraled so suddenly.

"Look, I just need you to listen for a second, alright?" The meekness in her tone caught me off guard; her earlier stance had seemed like an attempt to intimidate.

But that impression didn't last. Her shoulders tensed and hunched as her eyes darted nervously around the room. Her anxiety crawled over me, making me stiffen in my seat.

"Jimmy's gonna be here soon, and if he sees me, Pretoria won't be far behind."

She swallowed hard, staring off as if even the sun might betray her. Taking a shaky breath, she ran a hand through her tangled curls before meeting my gaze again.

"Don't you remember me? I was with Pretoria that day... when you came out of the woods crying." Her face suddenly clicked into place in my memory—standing just behind Pretoria.

"Yes," I said quietly, "I remember."

"Good, now listen," she said, her voice dropping to a hushed urgency. "Pretoria's going to come see you at some point. I don't know when, but whatever she says, do not go anywhere with her. Understand?"

Curiosity and confusion swirled inside me. I started to raise my hand, a question forming on my lips, but before I could ask, the sharp squeal of tires cut through the air.

Her head whipped toward the sound. The color drained from her face when her eyes locked onto a sleek black car. "It's Jimmy. I have to go."

Pulling a hood over her head, she ducked down, her voice tense. "Remember what I said." With those final words, she quickly walked away.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I flinched, suddenly aware of the weight of someone's gaze on me.

The beautiful man stood outside his car, a bouquet of roses in hand. His eyes flicked toward the woman's retreating figure, narrowing with a wary glint.

But he didn't linger on that sight for long. His attention soon shifted back to me, and the cool, penetrating sensation of his stare remained, unsettling.

couldn't tell if he remembered me from that day. My embarrassment hoped he didn't, but his expression gave nothing away. He looked at me—just for a moment—and then he didn't. Without a word, he turned and walked his usual path toward the grave.

The creak of a door swinging open broke my focus. Ben stood there, startled, clutching a blanket tightly in his hands.

"Little critters always seem to find a way in here," he said, glancing at me. His brows furrowed slightly. "You alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

I raised my hands to my cheeks, nodding as I took a few calming breaths.

The blanket in his arms squirmed, and I took an uneasy step back. "What's in there?" I asked, pointing hesitantly at the bundle.

Ben followed my gaze and smiled. "It's a raccoon, miss. C'mon, let's find a spot to let this little guy go, away from all the people."

I stood up, trailing behind Ben as he made his way toward the sealed-off portion of the gate—the one I'd often stared at during my long days in the woods, always wondering what lay beyond.

Yellow tape formed an 'X' in front of the entrance, barring anyone from going beyond it.

Ben knelt down, tossing the blanket ahead of him.

The moment it hit the ground, a snarling, cat-like creature hissed at us before darting off into the charred wilderness. Ben shook his head with a smile. "I swear, there's got to be a hole in that shed I don't know about."

He glanced around, surveying the area before turning back to me. "I remember seeing you sneaking around here."

I whipped my head toward him, startled. "You knew I was there?"

"Yep. Saw you every day, spying on folks," he said with a grin.

I pouted, defensively mumbling, "I wasn't spying."

"Oh, so hiding behind bushes, staying completely silent, and watching people isn't spying anymore?" he teased, crossing his arms as his laugh rumbled out.

I crossed my own arms, sulking. "Don't be mad," he chuckled, "I'm just messing with you."

He chuckled, continuing his story. "I'd seen you before, you know. You looked about ten or eleven at the time. I didn't think much of it back then."

He paused, his expression softening. "It wasn't uncommon for kids to wander off, but after I saw you again, when you finally came up to me... I knew."

I hesitated, sensing the shift in his tone. "Knew what?"

His face turned somber, almost regretful. "I knew I had to get you out of there."

He sighed, his voice quiet but steady. "I realized you weren't just some kid who wandered off for a day or two. You'd been out there—alone—for a long time."

His words hit me harder than I expected, the kindness in them tugging at something deep inside me. I felt tears threaten to surface.

Ben understood. And more than that—he wanted to help. I didn't know what to say, and for once, I didn't think I needed to.

"I want to come to work with you tomorrow."

Ben smiled softly as he fished something from his pocket. "You sure? I don't mind, but I figured you wouldn't want to do it again after getting up so early."

I giggled.

Ben pulled out his phone. "It's 4:30. We should head back in about an hour. Lilly already texted me—said to tell you she made that meatloaf you like for dinner."

The last hour dragged on slowly. I stretched across the bench in the shed, staring aimlessly at the wall, waiting for the commotion outside to die down. Only when the sound of crickets filled the air did I finally lift myself up.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the yard, greeted by an empty expanse of darkness. As usual, Ben was nowhere to be seen.

He'd show up soon enough, I thought, but for now, peaceful contentment settled over me. It was the first time in weeks that I'd felt truly alone, and strangely, the solitude felt less restrictive than I remembered.

The fresh white roses laid neatly at the foot of the grave, standing out against the cold stone like a beckoning sign. My thoughts flashed back to what the woman had said earlier, so afraid of the man that brought them...

A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I took a hesitant step closer, my heart thudding in my chest. Every instinct told me to turn back—Ben wouldn't want me here—but I couldn't ignore the pull of curiosity.

I crouched down, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching, before tracing the worn lettering on the stone. The letters had eroded so much that they were barely legible. Lilly had tried to teach me the alphabet, but no amount of lessons would help me read this.

Still, something about this grave felt important. Even if I couldn't make out the words, the roses and the secluded spot made it seem revered.

I shifted slightly, my fingers brushing the ground as I moved to sit—but then I froze.

Beneath me, something hard jabbed into my side. I scrambled up, heart pounding, and turned to see a small black wallet lying in the dirt. I picked it up cautiously, my fingers trembling as I flipped it open.

And there it was.

The beautiful man's face stared back at me from an ID card inside the wallet.

My breath caught in my throat. I glanced around again, half-expecting him to appear out of the shadows, but the graveyard was silent. He was gone.

Now I had another problem—how was I supposed to return this?