"You were at the concert?"

Hunter has stopped pedaling by this point. He's staring at me, his mouth hanging open, and I don't know if he realizes it.

I wish I could curl up into a tiny ball in the corner of this boat and make myself disappear. I didn't mean to tell him that. It isn't even him putting the pieces together about the other part of my life that has me worried right now. It's the mix of shock and concern I see in his eyes, and how he's searching for something else to say but hesitates every time he seems close to speaking again.

I don't want him to treat me as though I'm fragile and might break. I don't want him second-guessing his words. And I definitely don't want him to pity me, which is what I'm afraid the shock and concern might evolve into next.

"Did you--" He stops, apparently changing his mind about what he was going to ask me. "You're okay, though?" he asks instead.

If only somebody could define for me what "okay" really means. Physically, I'm fine. I walked out of The Domino unscathed in that sense. Emotionally and mentally are different stories altogether, something I'm sure he's already concluded based on my reaction to the news story.

I opt for the physical definition for the purpose of answering his question. "Yeah. I didn't get hit by shrapnel or suffer burns or anything."

Never mind that I've broken into a cold sweat. Never mind that Hunter is still watching me and is at a loss for what to do. Never mind that I simultaneously want to scream, sob, and crawl out of my skin.

"I'm sorry. I can't even imagine what that must have been like," he says after what feels like an eternity has passed, even though it's probably only been a minute or two. "Is there anything I can do that would help you right now?"

I'm grateful for his question, and I can tell he genuinely wants to help. But short of finding a time machine and taking me back to my life before that night, I don't think there's much anyone can do to help me. I talk with my therapist. I have pills to help me sleep that, other than two nights ago at the hotel, I still rarely take.

Maybe time will fix some of this. Maybe it won't.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "I just needed a second."

My pulse is slowing down, and air moves in and out of my lungs with less effort. I focus on a spot on the lake, willing my panic to be over for the moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He means well, but I'd rather walk over burning coals than talk about what happened that night and what's been going on with me since. I lose control of my words and emotions when I do, which is something I know from my therapy sessions with Dr. Delacruz. How would I even begin to explain it to him, when he doesn't know that not only was I there, I was the reason everyone who died was there? I'd have to explain how I see them in my dreams, and how the fear and guilt crushes me in my nightmares. How I can't even handle rehearsal with my band or hearing one of my own songs without anxiety taking over.

I'd have to tell him everything. I'd have to tell him the world knows me as Cayden Indigo, and yes, I'm one of those celebrities his sister idolizes and he has no use for. I'm not ruling out ever coming clean about this, and I may have to at some point if we keep hanging out, but now isn't the time. It's a lot to think about, and it's far too much to unload on someone all at once.

"Maybe another day," I answer. "I'm okay now. Let's keep pedaling and forget about this."

I push my feet down on the boat pedals and meet resistance. It takes a few seconds to realize Hunter has his feet on the pedals, but he isn't pedaling. He's preventing me from moving the boat anywhere.

"I can't do that," he says.

"You can't pedal?" I try pushing my feet against the pedals again, now wondering if I was wrong about him being the cause of our stop in motion and if something else has jammed the pedals.

"No." He shakes his head. "I can't forget about what you just told me."

"Hunter, plea--"

He doesn't let me finish. "I promise I won't bring it up, but I want you to feel comfortable telling me if something is triggering bad memories or making you anxious. I would have thrown the radio in the lake if I'd realized what was going on."

It's completely the wrong time for me to envision Hunter tossing the radio out into the water like a football. Or maybe it's the right time, since the mental picture has replaced the other images in my mind, and the thought of it causes laughter to bubble up inside of me.

Hunter gives me a questioning look. He must be wondering if I'm losing it now, since I've gone straight from a panic attack to giggling at something he can't see.

"I'm picturing you destroying the radio," I explain. "I don't know why it's funny to me, but it is."

"I'll do it right now if it keeps making you laugh." He reaches for the radio and I grab his arm to stop him.

"Ohmigosh, don't!" I protest. "The radio is innocent. It can stay."

"Just say the word, and it will be swimming with the fish." He abandons his attempt to pick up the radio, though, and I release my hold on his arm.

He stops blocking the pedals after that. We ride in silence for a couple of minutes, until Hunter speaks again.

"Is that why you came here this summer? Or had you already planned the trip?"

"It's why I'm here," I confirm. "My mom thought it would be good for us to get away from L.A. for a while."

"I can understand why. You must miss your friends, though. I don't know what I'd do if I went through something like that and then couldn't be with them."

So much for his promise to not bring this up. I let it go, though, because his heart is in the right place.

"I do miss them." I miss Sawyer and Carter the most, along with my band. "It's okay, though. Some of them were also leaving town for the summer, and I need the time away."

Hunter doesn't look convinced about this being okay, but he doesn't say anything else about it after that. We continue pedaling until the shoreline and dock in front of his cottage come into view. If Hunter had plans to show me other parts of the lake today, they've been abandoned, since he's now steering us to land.

I'm disappointed, but I also feel exhaustion creeping in now that the adrenaline rush is over. The early ending to our lake tour is likely for the best. My limbs may as well be fighting against quicksand by the time we reach the shore and I've helped Hunter dock the boat. He must sense this, because he asks how I'm feeling.

"A little bit tired," I admit. "I'm sorry our lake tour was cut short."

"You have nothing to apologize for." His voice is firm, and he looks as serious now as he did when I was panicking in the boat. "Do you want me to walk you to your place?"

As drained as I'm feeling, and as terrible as my company will soon become, I also don't want our time together today to end.

"Will you be roped into showing up at Adam's party if I go home?" It's a feeble argument, but it's the only one I can come up with on the spot.

"Nah. I texted him earlier that we had plans, so he won't bug me for the rest of the day." He observes my struggle to fight back a yawn. "Come on, let's get you home before you drop and I need to carry you."

"I'm not going to drop." I'll be honest—the thought of being carried by him does have a certain appeal.

"That's correct, because I'm taking you home before you do. I'm not giving your mom a reason to not like me."

"My mom likes you," I assure him. "And she'd still like you if you had to carry me home. The pie scored major points."

"That's good knowledge to have if I need to score more points in the future." A thoughtful look crosses Hunter's face.

The more daring part of me is tempted to ask what he'd need to score more points for just to find out what answer I would get. As I debate doing this, he places his hand against my back. It distracts me from what I was about to stir up, since I'm again having trouble with my words.

The walk to my cottage takes less time than I'd like for it to. It's only a couple of minutes before Hunter and I are standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the door, about to part company for at least a few days.

"Thank you for this afternoon." My thanks is for the partial lake tour he gave me and for how he handled my panic attack and what I let slip. I don't mean to compare him to Bowie, but I find myself doing it anyway, knowing that the guy I was once allegedly in a relationship with would have been impatient and belittled my reaction to the news. Bowie was the one who deemed what happened at The Domino as my "never-ending tragedy" and told me to get over myself, after all.

"Thanks for saving me from Adam and the party," Hunter replies. "Would it be all right if I text you while I'm in town to make sure you're doing okay?"

His request sounds heartfelt. I would like nothing more than to text him while he isn't here, but it would probably be easier to persuade a mountain to relocate itself than it would be to persuade Mom to hand over my phone.

"My mom has my phone under lock and key," I remind him. "If you can convince her to give it back, then yes, definitely. You have better chances of winning a lottery jackpot, though."

"Right, no phone. I forgot about that for a second." He rakes his fingers through his hair, and I can tell he's trying to come up with another option.

"I'll be fine," I insist. "I don't want you thinking about this when you should be celebrating Paisley's big day. Go have fun."

He tips his head to the side, appearing to consider what I've just asked him to do. "I'll try to have fun, but no guarantees on the rest. See you when I'm back?"

"I'll be here, trying to keep Alfie from chasing more toads or finding other wildlife to play with."

Hunter extends his arms out to me, which catches me by surprise. I move a step closer to him, and then I'm engulfed in the warmest, sweetest hug. I return the embrace and let my head rest against his shoulder. I didn't know how much I needed exactly this until now, but somehow he did.

"Take care of yourself for the next few days, okay?" He releases his arms from around me. I miss his hug already.

"I will. Good luck at Paisley's graduation." I don't say it, but his nod tells me he understands that I mean this about a potential encounter with Trinity.

Hunter waits while I walk up the steps to the door. He's still standing there when I turn around, watching to be sure I get inside. I raise my hand to wave goodbye, and then I open the door and enter the cottage.

Alfie rushes over to greet me, his tail wagging. I shut the door behind me and crouch down to scratch his head and his ears. Mom watches us from where she sits at the kitchen table.

"You're back." She sounds perplexed. "I thought you would be gone until dinner."

"Me too, but the lake tour took less time than I thought." I set my water bottle on the counter and wash my hands while thinking about how to broach the subject of what I heard on the radio. I don't want to tell Mom about the panic attack or what Hunter is now aware of, but I do want to know if either of these things could have been avoided. Was she aware of the news before I was?

Chair legs squeak against the floor, which alerts me that Mom has gotten up from the table.

"Is there anything you feel like eating tonight?" she asks. "I thought about making spaghetti, but there's still time to change that if you want something else."

"I don't really have an appetite." I reach for a dish towel to dry my hands.

She opens a cupboard and rummages for something on a shelf. "You need to eat."

I ignore her statement. "Can I ask you about something?"

"What's that?" She pulls a can of tomato sauce out of the cupboard.

"Were you going to tell me about the list of people Dallas was targeting and that there might be other people still out there he was working with?"

Mom sets the can down on the counter. She's silent and motionless now. I take her lack of response to mean she knows about this and kept it from me.

"How about the rumor that Sawyer's name was also on the list?" I continue. "Were you going to tell me that part, or were you going to let me keep believing he'd be safe on tour all summer while I'm out here, cut off from communicating with him?"

My questions are met with more silence.