Page 30 of What Remains

In reality, the jumpsuit is still damp from the rain, my hair keeps sticking to my face, and my feet ache in sandals not made for walking. But I don’t dare complain, or he’ll carry me again. Despite my protests, he’s already held me at two different points on this hike.

Easton flicks on his flashlight attached to the Glock, sweeping the ground ahead, then the path behind us. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Even if it’s a baby lie?”

I may not be able to see his eyes, but I can feel his glare. “No lies. Big or small.”

“I’m okay to walk.” I settled for an in-between lie.

With his free hand, his knuckles brush mine, searching for my hand, so I give it to him. It’s a quiet comfort as we crunch over branches and leaves, insects humming around us. Every step we take, I mentally spiral, but I keep pushing forward on my own two feet.

“Hold up. There’s a—” He drops the gun and the warning in the same breath, spinning me around.

In a lightning-quick maneuver, his hands go to my waist, and he throws both of us to the left. We hit the ground hard, Easton taking the brunt of the fall. Guilt twists inside me as I feel the thud through his body.

I’m sprawled across his chest, my breath mingling with his. His gun is on its side next to us, pointing through leaves, and the pale stream of light reveals the drop we almost went over. Tonight’s turning into a night of almosts. One step more, and we’d have gone straight into the water down below.

A groan slips from him before he asks, “You okay?” His voice is rough in a way that hits something low in my stomach.

I push up a little, palms braced on his chest. I’m sitting right on his crotch, which is just great. “Are you okay? I didn’t, uh, crush anything important, did I?” Heat bursts up my neck and into my face as if I asked about his balls out loud.

“All, uh”—he coughs—“good.” Another strained grunt he pretends isn’t there follows his lie. “Didn’t realize how close to the ledge we were.” His hands slide up my arms as he orders, “Don’t move. You may roll right off.” He reaches for the gun and guides us both into a semi-seated position with me still on his lap.

My fingers wrap around his biceps, and somehow, I’m even closer than I was before and my breasts are smashed to his chest.

You’d think after what those men planned to do to me, I’d recoil from anyone’s touch. And yet, I want the opposite of distance. I want his breath at my temple. His arms keeping the world from swallowing me whole.

The tears I’ve been fighting suddenly burn hot and flow uncontrollably. My grip on him tightens as everything inside me cracks open.

The woods go quiet, like even the wildlife knows to leave us alone.

“You hurt?” He sets the gun aside and holds on to me, creating a cocoon of heat and safety.

“Not physically.” I hide my face against his neck, one hand wrapping around his back, clutching him like he’s the only thing that can anchor me to the present and out of that room.

“And your ears, how are they now?”

I would smile at how sweet he is if this was a smiling situation. “Getting better. The fresh air has helped.”

“Good, shouldn’t last too much longer.” His breath shakes once, enough for me to feel the rattle in his chest. Enough to know I’m not the only one unraveling. “I’m just so damn sorry this happened.” His palm slides to the back of my head. His fingers slip into my hair, holding me like he needs the contact as much as I do.

“Not your fault,” I hiccup.

Another soft groan escapes him. One he tries (and fails) to hide.

Did he hurt himself when we fell? “No lies, remember? What happened to you?” Or do you feel guilty for a woman straddling you, because something happened between you and Zoey while you’ve been here? I manage to suffocate that last question and keep it behind a not-the-time filter.

“I got hurt earlier tonight.” Before I can ask a follow-up, he adds, “Don’t worry about me. I’m just relieved you’re okay, and that we got to you . . .”

He can’t finish that thought.

That’s okay.

I’m not up for hearing it, either.

His chin rests on top of my head like he’s shielding me from anything and everything, even while alone with nature. I scoot forward on his lap, desperate to melt into him, to borrow his steadiness because mine is gone.

He shifts around slightly, and is he uncomfortable with me sitting right on his crotch? Not that I feel him going hard or anything.