Surreal and . . . nice.

They’d made a fire on the beach and ate s’mores while listening to the tune of the water hitting the shoreline and crickets singing.

Correction: they all ate s’mores except for Walker, because his body was a temple. Trying to block the memories of how she’d once worshipped at the temple of Walker, she looked away from him and her gaze locked on Jace’s. He pulled her to her feet and then off to the side. “So I’m going to go to bed to give you guys some time alone.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She searched his gaze. “Unless you’re too tired to stay up?”

He gave her a small smile. “I’m too tired to stay up.”

She could hear the lie in his voice and started to say something, but he shook his head and bent to give her a sweet kiss on the lips and a look that said he’d be just upstairs if she needed him.

When she walked back to the fire, all eyes were on her. Heather’s. Caitlin’s.

Walker’s . . .

“What?” she said. “Never seen a couple kiss good night before? And who’s bogarting the marshmallows?”

“I remember the last time we did this,” Heather said. “Coyotes came down from the hill and were making hungry noises and howling. I cried.”

“You were nine,” Maze said. “You were scared.”

“I know. And you stood up, grabbed a few big sticks we hadn’t put in the fire yet, and started to head out to scare them off.” Heather smiled. “You were so badass, Maze. And protective. You always had our backs.”

“It was Walker who saved us, though.” He’d taken the sticks from her and gone after them himself.

“Because it takes a village,” Heather said. “And I love our village.”

“Me too,” Cat said.

Walker didn’t say anything and Cat elbowed him.

“Ow. And what?”

“You love our village too.”

“Of course I do,” he said easily.

Maze rolled her eyes. “If we’re going to get mushy, I’m out of here.”

“If you leave now,” Cat said, “no more s’mores for you. Ever.”

Not about to risk that, Maze stayed. They were quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. Well, at least on everyone else’s part. Maze was never comfortable, not in silence or otherwise.

When they ran out of supplies, they scattered. Maze went inside and passed Jace having a Netflix marathon in the den.

So much for his being tired. But she sure as hell was, so she waved and kept going, up the stairs and into her room. She climbed over the makeshift bed on the floor where she and Jace were taking turns sleeping and crawled into the comfy bed.

She had no idea how much later it was when she jerked at the sound of someone trying to open the bedroom door. She was no longer in the cabin. She was in her mother’s old apartment, which she knew from the scent of old weed and bad booze.

She was dreaming.

Her relief was short-lived, because she couldn’t wake up. The light slanting in through the broken shutters was just enough to see the bedroom doorknob turning. The lock caught and so did the sob in her throat.

Back and forth the knob turned, but the lock held.

“Just dreaming,” she whispered to herself. It’d been years since the last nightmare and even more years since it had been reality and not a nightmare at all. Her mom had a weakness for men, all of them. But one in particular had been fond of preteen girls. She’d been a handy target.

He’d gotten into her bedroom twice, and the second time she’d been ready with a baseball bat. He’d never tried again.

But that first time . . . Sometimes she could still feel his hands on her. She’d screamed bloody murder and had finally managed to wake up her passed-out mom, who’d come stumbling down the hallway to see what the commotion had been about.

Asshole Boyfriend—Maze refused to ever use his name—had been smart enough to get out of her bedroom and play innocent.

When she’d finally been removed from her mom’s custody by CPS, they’d put her through mandatory counseling. All these years later, that night of horror still pissed her off whenever she thought about it, but she didn’t feel scarred. She knew it hadn’t been her fault, she didn’t hate all men, and she could enjoy sex when she was in the mood.

She considered herself lucky more than a survivor.

But it turned out sometimes the brain played nasty tricks. Apparently, it didn’t matter how much time had passed—terror was terror, even in dreams. She hardly even registered grabbing her pillow and running for the closet, shutting the door behind her to curl up into the tiny space on the floor, the pillow over her head.

When the closet door opened, she cried out and shrank back against the wall, lost in the confusion between the dream and reality.

Strong, warm arms gathered her up against a broad chest. “Maze.”

She recognized the safety of that rough voice. It was embarrassing, but she clutched at Walker like he was her personal teddy bear.

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly, calmly, pressing his jaw to her, holding her tight to him, better than any teddy bear she’d ever had. “You’re safe and I’ve got you.”

And then he sat on the floor of the closet, his back to the wall, and held her while she cried herself out.

His big hand stroked her hair. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“You’re not alone, Maze. You’re never alone. We’re all right here at your six.”

“Are you?” she whispered thickly.

“I might not be the most open guy, but I’ve never lied to you.”

That much was true. He’d always been honest, down to that long-ago Vegas morning when he’d woken up married to her and said, “I’ll take care of this, I’ll fix it.” At the memory, she closed her eyes tight.

The next time she woke up, she was back in bed, alone, and it was morning. She sat straight up and looked around. Jace was asleep on the floor.

Had it actually happened?

She looked at the closet. The door was open, a pillow on the floor in there.

Yep. It’d happened.

She covered her face and took in a deep breath, remembering the feel of Walker’s arms around her, holding her tight to him. He hadn’t pressed her to talk. He’d just chased away her nightmares and held her until she’d fallen asleep.

It embarrassed her that he knew everything about her, even the things she never talked about, when she knew only a few stark details of his past, nothing but the bare minimum. She didn’t know what to do with that. With any of it. So she did what she did best: lived in the land of denial. Stepping over a sleeping Jace, she got dressed.

You’re not alone, Maze. You’re never alone. We’re all right here at your six.

Walker’s words were stuck in her brain. Because she wanted to be at their backs too. It was time to give back to the people who’d given her so much, past time.

She found Caitlin in the kitchen mainlining coffee and frosting a pan of cinnamon rolls. Maze held out her hand.

“Touch this pan before I’m done and die.”

“Not the cinnamon rolls. I want your real to-do list. That’s right, I know you gave me just a few of the million things you’ve still got on your plate. I want the whole thing.”