Page 72 of The Wild Beneath

Walker hangs his head and takes a breath before looking at Evan again. “What do you want me to say?”

“You’re influencing her in a way that’s dangerous—­”

“You don’t understand.” Walker shakes his head.

Evan steps toward him. “You need to stay away from her.”

“I can’t do that yet.”

Evan squints. “What do you mean,yet?”

“It’s so much harder than I thought it would be.” Walker seems to shrink an inch. “When I’m around her... I can’t think straight.” He blinks and looks around. “My chest wants to explode or something.”

“Oh my god.” Evan drags his hands down his face.

“I think of her all the time.” Walker’s voice is raw. “More than I should.”

“You have a crush on her, is that it?” Evan can’t stand it. “Why are you telling me this?”

Walker locks eyes with him. “Because I know what you’re feeling.”

“You have no idea how I feel about Annie!”

Walker goes on, “I didn’t expect to feel like this. It’s not the way it was supposed to work.”

Evan scoffs. “Now you know how she works, do you?”

“She works the same way I do.”

“You don’t even know her!” Evan yells.

Walker lowers his voice. “I know her story.”

“What fucking story?” he snaps. “The two of us, me and her. We’re each other’s stories. She needs the chance to think about something different... about a real life. And you’re making that impossible.”

Walker puts his hand on his chest. “I love her, too.”

“Oh, you do, do you? But how far would you go for her?” Evan hates how his voice cracks when he’s emotional like this. “How much would you give?”

“Probably everything.” Walker’s eyes fill with tears.

Evan’s heart is a runaway racehorse. He doesn’t know if he should punch Walker or storm off or scream.

Walker moves toward the break in the foliage at the edge of the shipyard.

“I’m not done,” Evan calls after him. His cheeks are wet. My god, is he crying, too?

Walker faces the sea. His body grows still. Evan detects a new sound. A slowch-ch-ch-ch-chpulse, ratcheting, getting louder. Cicadas? Evan looks up—­nothing there—­then back to Walker, whose eyes are closed, his head turned ninety degrees to the left.

“Honest to god, I’m so done with this.” Evan doesn’t mean to spin out, but here he is, voice ramped. Sweating. He crouches on the ground to get his bearings, to get some blood into his brain, then stands back up. “I need to have a say.”

Thech-ch-chbelow and above gets clearer, as Walker turns back around, striding up to Evan until they’re face-to-face.

“She loves you.” Walker’s unreadable eyes bore into his own. The cicada-pulse is uncomfortable and firm. Cicadas don’t sing at night, do they? “So be better.” Walker touches Evan’s chest. “For her.”

“Better?” Evan grinds his jaw and tries not to explode. “I’mthe one thinking about what’s best for her.”

Walker steps back a few feet, hands to his sides. A gust of wind stirs the sword ferns. He lowers his voice. “Do you really believe that?”