I opened my eyes.
The world was upside down. The sky, pale and washed out, was filtered through a lattice of red weirwood leaves. I was lying on the moss, wrapped in Guilermo’s flannel shirt, which smelled intensely of him.
Guilermo was gone.
Panic, sharp and immediate, flared in my chest. Not again.
I sat up, clutching the shirt around me. The movement sent a dull ache through my hips and thighs, a physical reminder of exactly how thorough the night had been. My skin was sensitive, humming with a residual charge that felt like static electricity trapped under the surface.
"I didn't leave."
The voice came from the edge of the clearing.
Guilermo stepped out from behind the massive trunk of the Heart Tree. He was dressed in his jeans, shirtless again, and holding a handful of wild ber
