Every muscle in my body locked at once.
I didn’t turn around. Some old, animal instinct told me not to — that whoever was behind me on that wet grass would know the second I gave away how afraid I was, and some smaller, more foolish part of me still hoped that if I stayed perfectly still, I might simply not be seen at all, the way I used to believe as a child that closing my eyes made me invisible to whatever frightened me in the dark.
The footsteps stopped.
“Hazel.”
The voice that said my name wasn’t a stranger’s. It took me a full second to place it through the rain and the ringing in my own ears, and when I did, my whole body sagged with a relief so sudden it nearly buckled my knees.
Liam.
I spun around, and there he was, soaked through, his jacket gone, his shirt plastered to him
