There was a slight breeze, it made the leaves rustle and my hair flow in the air. The sun was beaming, casting it's rays just so, that it made the whole scenery look ethereal. There I was, standing at the edge of the cliff admiring the peak, the vast amount of trees, the oh-so-blue sky, when a sudden jerk made me lose my balance and before I could even register what had happened, I was falling and falling and falling. I could hear screaming. Someone was screaming my name, "Blair!" "NO!" "BLAIR!" "HELP! SOMEONE HELP!". And suddenly, my body slowed, like it was being guided, like it was floating on a cloud. I opened my eyes to see the most handsome face I had ever seen looking back down at me. The guy it belonged to smirked, "Hey, Duck-Face!". My eyes went wide. "Carson?!". Suddenly I saw red, I started struggling against his grip. "Easy there duckie, I'm only just helping you", he grinned. "HOW DARE YOU CALL ME THAT?!". "HOW DARE YOU SHOW UP AFTER ALL THESE AND... AND... SAVE ME?!" "WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT?!". He gaze locked onto mine he replied "You would rather I let you go?", "Well your wish is my command...". And then he DROPPED ME! I was plumetting towards the ground ready for impact, before he caught me, again.

He grabbed my wrist and gave it one hard, quick pull. My feet landed back on the stone of the cliff top before I could even register what was happening. Caught off balance, I stumbled forward--right into his arms. For a second, my face was buried in his shoulder, and I smelled his sweat and the cotton of his shirt. My heart was still pounding, so loud I could hear it. I took a deep breath and felt the beats start to slow down.

Then I snapped to my feet and pushed him back. What was he doing here? Why did he pick this moment to come back here and crash my life, so many years after leaving me alone? And... how had he known I was even going to be here? The questions ran through my mind, too many for me to force one through my twisting tongue. What I finally said was, "Where were you?"

Carson smirked. "I could ask you the same question. You've been off the grid in this park for two weeks. It's almost like you didn't want anyone to find you."

"You know what I mean!" I wasn't sure why my eyes were tearing up--a mixture of anger, heartbreak, all the many conflicting feelings this boy had given me. "You disappeared when we were sixteen! They found your car all slashed up by Bear Lake and the cops said you drowned! I knew that was bullshit because you were the best swimmer in school, but I didn't know what to believe after I heard you left your parents a note on the fridge. I grieved you, Carson! I thought grieving would be easier because I didn't know for sure you were dead, but that just made it harder! But I moved on and I got over you, and now you just show up like nothing's happened? What the actual hell?"

"Well," he said with a shrug, "clearly I'm not dead. And second of all, I wasn't the best swimmer in our school. Why do you think I always called you 'duckie,' Blair?"

God damn it. I'd had a crush on him for almost as long as I could remember. And listening to his familiar, casual, lively voice, all those emotions were at a serious risk of flooding back. I pushed the feelings away, deciding I would unpack them at some future time, and reminded myself I was still furious at him for disappearing without a trace.

"Why didn't you ever tell me you were alive?" I demanded. "Why did you wait until I was literally dying to show back up in my life?"

He paused deliberately, wind ruffling through his sandy hair as he searched for the right words. I wished I could read his expression, but the truth was, that sarcastic half-smile had always masked deep layers he refused to share with the world.

"I wanted to tell you," he finally said. "I didn't disappear by choice."

"Why? Were you hiding from something?" My fists clenched and unclenched. Maybe I was projecting on him. Maybe I, too, was trying to disappear, and maybe that was why I had packed up my things and taken a hiking trip in the mountains without telling anyone my destination.

Carson's face, ever so guarded, betrayed nothing. "Wouldn't you like to know," he laughed, sun glinting off the flecks in his eyes like chrome on a Cadillac.

"Go to hell," I told him. But even as I said it, I couldn't help but wonder if, when he said "I wanted to tell you," he meant "I wanted to tell you."

"But you didn't" I said, as I turned away, trying to focus on the far off scenery instead, aching to stand my ground while his stoic demeanor beckons me to his side.

"Trust me, Blair" he says, "If I made that decision, I had a damn good reason."

Carson's tentative steps approached me slowly, as he gently put his palm on my shoulder. I let him, the warmth far too comforting for my recently shaken nervous system.

I turned back to meet the piercing gaze of his emerald eyes, "Just tell me already", I whimpered.

"You don't understand" he sighed with a somber expression, as he took his hand off me, the rushing cold of the mountain winds quickly filling the emptied spot. "I was trying to protect you. I still am."

An involuntary frown formed on my face, growing by the second. I took a step back, my hiking boots shoving a couple of minuscule rocks off the edge "I can't believe you. You haven't changed at all."

Memories came flooding back, about that time, couple months prior to his disappearance, when we were alone on the porch of a house, the party of one of our friends still booming inside. That night I had opened up my soul to him, told him about my parent's divorce, my aspirations in the fashion industry, my weird obsession with Dolly Parton and crocheting. That night was when I told him how It's pissing me off how all my friends are getting boyfriends now, and how I'm feeling like I'm falling behind. But he just stood there. Looking at me. Listening, with a drink in his hand, but not saying anything.

A moment of heavy silence passed, as we kept steadily looking into each other's eyes, none willing to break the eye contact first.

"This is different"

Carson finally looked down, his frame remaining tense. "I got involved with some bad people, duckie. I didn't have a choice."

My heart sank. Suddenly, a million thoughts racing through my head. Bad people? Who could possibly warrant faking his death? Just then, it occurs to me...

"It was intentional!" My leg stomped, spreading dust off the ground around. "You took the time. Planned it all out. I... I could have helped you, you know? I could have been there, by your side, all this time, I-"

"No." his grovel voice cut me off "Blair, you don't know what you're talking about."

By this moment, I notice that he begins darting his head around.

"Carson" I say, with a sudden ball stuck in my throat, causing me to cough, "You didn't just come back to save me, did you? You're still... with them, aren't you?"

He looks at me again, his expression serious, with a soft spark in his eye that offers a small glimpse inside, as he quickly starts approaching me and grabs my hand.

"We have to go"

Suddenly we were running. Carson's hand was tight around my wrist as I found myself automatically falling in with his pace. Panic and disbelief mixed with a deep, painful nostalgia: the last time we ran together like this, we were teenagers, and it felt like the whole world was open to us.

"Carson!" I managed to yell. "Where the hell do you think you're taking me?!"

"Just come with me!"

The irony of it ached. "Couldn't you have asked me that six years ago?" I half-hissed, half-laughed, and didn't add: Because I think I would have done anything for you.

Carson's grip tightened, but he said nothing--and sure enough, even now, I couldn't help but follow him. As we ran, the scenery blurred into smudges of blue and green, Carson's back in sharp focus ahead of me. He looked so much... sharper now, all muscle and sinew. What could have happened to him? My mind raced. What could we be running from? How did he find me here, the mountains in the middle of nowhere, where not even my family knew I was?

The sound of a car made Carson freeze. I froze with him. Cursing, he turned, throwing his arm around my shoulders and pulling us behind a tree, so that my head was flush with his chest. My mind stuttered to a halt. I could hear the thudding of both of our hearts.

Dazed, I opened my mouth. "What--"

He pressed his finger to my lips. I looked up, meeting his eyes for one brief, intoxicating second before he looked back towards the direction of the sound.

The sound of the car turned into a roar, then juddered to a stop. I heard a door open, the sound of shoes hitting the undergrowth, and a man's gruff voice: "The target should be nearby. Look for a tent. The bitch is camping, apparently."

Another voice: "Where's Carson?"

"Beats me."

"Who are they?" I whispered frantically. Carson shook his head vehemently and held his fingers up to his mouth. Quiet. I nodded, blinking back overwhelmed tears, and stood perfectly still, leaning up against his chest. My heart pounded so loud I was sure they could hear it.

The footsteps drew closer, crunching dry leaves and dirt. Those weren't sneaker steps, they were something heavier-duty than that. I heard breathing, too, hard and frustrated as they passed within thirty feet of our hiding place. Then it quieted down, the men getting farther away as they climbed uphill.

"I found something," the second voice said, coming from the high ledge where I had been standing minutes ago. "Footprints. Signs of a struggle. Any chance she fell off the cliff?"

The first voice scoffed. "There's no body at the bottom of the cliff, is there? No, she's still out there. And where the hell is Carson?"

Carson leaned down towards me and whispered in my ear, so close I could feel his hot breath. "Do you trust me?"

No, of course not.

Yes, with my life.

I had no idea what to think anymore. I felt myself nod, a reflex buried deep inside of me.

He grinned, then started running, still holding my wrist. "Get in the car, Blair!"

Their car sat in front of us, totally empty: a small black pickup with all-terrain tires. I got in the right side as he turned the key, revving the vehicle to life with a roar. I flashed back to the last time he drove me somewhere: a country concert at that college stadium a few hours away, us listening to the radio, talking and singing like we didn't have a care in the world. Now, as he hit the gas pedal and wheeled the truck around, I felt wind whip in my face and felt like I was going to be sick.

I heard the men shouting, noticing what we had just done. Carson laughed, a wild light in his eyes while the car picked up speed. "They won't catch up to us now!"

"Carson, who are they? What do they want with you? With me?"

"These guys?" He swerved the truck around a pine tree, narrowly avoiding its tall, straight trunk. "They're nobody. Just lackeys. When we get out of here, we're gonna have much worse on our hands."

A loud, whistling crack cut through the air, louder than the truck's engine and the wind in my ears. They were shooting at us. "Carson, what aren't you telling me?"

"They won't kill you, probably. They need you alive, at least for now. But they'll definitely kill me now that I've betrayed them."

He slammed the brakes as a huge rock appeared in front of us. Another bullet flew right past our heads, slamming into the stone with a bang. The truck turned slowly, wheels skidding in the dirt. Then, just as it picked up speed, I felt the whole vehicle lurch.

One of the tires was shot.

"Dammit!" Carson tried to turn the truck, but it wouldn't. The front of the vehicle crunched against a tree, the lights on the dash blinking out. We were trapped.

I turned and saw the men advancing on us. They were still far away, tiny figures up on the ridge, but they each carried long hunting rifles. I looked to Carson, pleading with him for what to do next, but for once he seemed to be at a loss.

"Well, well, well." The first voice, the gruff one, now raised louder to speak to us. "Carson thinks he can take all the credit for himself? Steal our truck and our target out from under our noses?"

"We don't like that," the second man agreed. "Step outside and put your hands in the air."

My eyes darted from their guns, to the steep mountainside beneath us, to the sheer cliffs off to our left side. If I remembered correctly, we were above a deep glacial river here--the same one I had hiked beside to get to the cliffside. "Carson," I whispered, "remember that time at the old quarry?"

A flash of recognition lit up his face, and he nodded. "Lead on, duckie."

We emerged from the truck slowly. I put my hands on the back of my head, keeping my eyes on our pursuers, and he did the same. Then, suddenly, I took off running and jumped off the cliff.

The fall was only about thirty feet--nowhere near as high as the cliff I had almost fallen off earlier. But those few seconds felt like hours, gunshots popping around me until, at last, I hit the icy water. I paddled to the surface and took a deep breath, dimly aware of Carson splashing down somewhere behind me. Then I began swimming like my life depended on it, allowing the rushing current to take me away. I kicked and pulled as hard as my body would allow, only slowing down after twenty minutes and God-knows-how-many miles had passed.

I was freezing, wet, in the middle of the wilderness with no gear and no one nearby except my long-lost childhood crush. But I had escaped them.