Chapter 25 Bennett
BENNETT
For the last week, we’d worked nonstop to build our shelter and gather food.
So far none of my hunting traps had caught anything, and I’d been too busy preparing a sturdier shelter to go bow hunting.
Luckily, Charlie had caught four fish so far, and there was a steady stream of mussels, lichen, and berries we could collect every day.
The good part of all this hunger and exhaustion was that I collapsed into the sleeping bag beside Charlie every night and fell almost instantly asleep.
No extra energy to think about her body pressed to my side all night long.
The cool skin of her feet brushing mine.
How she curled into my back when she got cold, sending goosebumps down my arms. The way my heart thumped when puffs of sleepy breath brushed against the bare skin at my neck.
Nope. Not a zero speck of energy for all that.
I liked to save those thoughts for all day long, like a gentleman.
I set the last log into place for our two-walled structure.
We’d found a raised cliff-like hill that we were able to build against, which would offer us way more natural insulation.
I paused to lean against a tree, my breath coming out more ragged than it should have.
It was the lack of calories. In an entire week, I’d eaten fewer calories than I’d have in a single day back home.
But I loved being here. Sure, I’d love it even more if I had a juicy steak with a steaming baked potato. All layered in salt. I hadn’t realized how much I’d miss salt.
“You okay?” I asked Charlie as she returned from fishing. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and she tripped over a root as she came closer. I rushed forward and caught her before she fell to the ground.
“Yeah. Just …” Her voice trailed off like it was going to take too much energy to speak. Her face was red and splotchy, her eyes swollen. She’d definitely been crying.
“Have you been drinking enough water?” I spread my coat across a breezy part of the meadow and coaxed her to rest on it. Concern settled over me.
“Probably not.” Her smile was wry as she lay down and tilted her face toward the hazy gray sky.
It was easy to lose track of time out here. She wanted to win so badly, and that meant making sure we had enough food. She’d been pushing too hard, exposing herself endlessly to the elements, and something was going to have to change if we were going to survive another week.
I found a fresh trout in her pail, and tears almost sprang to my eyes at the sight. I never thought I’d be crying over food, but one week out here, and this was who I’d become.
“This looks amazing—” I stopped when I realized she’d fallen asleep.
“Charlie, your lunch is ready,” I whispered, but she didn’t stir.
She looked so peaceful in sleep, laid out on my coat in the grass. All of the stress lines around her mouth and eyes were smoothed out, and it made me realize just how much worry she was carrying in her waking moments. A surge of tenderness swelled in me.
In so many ways, she was still the girl who’d rescued the cat from the tree and had participated in all kinds of mischief with my sister.
But being out here, I was seeing a whole new side to her.
Confident in her ability to identify edible plants.
A hard worker. Someone I wanted to spend all my downtime with.
Without anything else to entertain us, we spent hours talking.
If our wedding night had created a crush, being out here had only deepened those initial feelings.
The difference between a light and airy sponge cake and a rich chocolate torte.
I could never resist a chocolate torte, even when I probably should.
I sat beside her and pushed her hair off of her forehead.
She stretched her arms above her head and arched her back upward like a cat.
Her eyes slowly blinked open, and she smiled softly, her expression completely trusting.
I lost all train of thought at the sight of her stretched out, a sliver of her smooth stomach exposed.
Yep. I’d eat the entire torte and not regret it one bit.
“A few more minutes,” she said sleepily before rolling toward me and setting her head on my thigh like a pillow, facing away from me. Her dark hair fanned across my legs and the ground.
I held still, except for the blood racing through my veins, afraid she’d realize what she’d done and move. I craved touch as much as I craved food, but Charlie was cautious. Except in her sleep, where she seemed drawn to me without realizing it.
I released the air from my lungs and relaxed my spine. This moment was as close to heaven as I could imagine. In the woods, no civilization in sight, nowhere to go, no demands on my time, and a gorgeous woman asleep on me.
And not just any gorgeous woman—my wife.
A gust of wind blew her hair across her face, and I brushed it behind her ears. The strands were silky smooth in the middle, but a little tangled near the ends. She hummed in appreciation as I ran my fingers through her hair, and she snuggled her face deeper into my leg.
I continued to draw my fingers through the strands as the sun peeked occasionally through the cloudy sky, the rain holding off like it was giving us this moment.
Our to-do list was endless—a shelter to build, food to catch, traps to set, clothes to wash—but it would only be a matter of time before she awoke to realize she’d fallen asleep in my lap.
Just like the mornings she thought she woke up before me, she’d spring away, flustered, and try to act like everything was normal.
Which was the right thing to do. So why was I dreading it?
My pinkie accidentally got caught on one of the tangles I’d been carefully avoiding, and she winced. She opened her eyes wide and sat up fast enough she had to brace her hand on my arm, her face pale. She needed to eat and drink.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize that tangle would stick.” I casually relaxed back on my hands.
Her cheeks were pink, and she wouldn’t look at me. “My hair is going to be unmanageable soon.” She held her long hair out like a fan and dropped it slowly onto her shoulders and back with a sad groan as several pieces fell as knotted clumps.
I handed her the plate of fish—cold now—and a cup of water to drink. “Want me to warm it back up?”
She shook her head as she took a bite of the fish and then sighed like it was the most delicious food she’d ever eaten. “Thank you.” By the time she finished, she was able to look at me again. “Let’s cut it.”
“Cut what?”
“My hair.”
“Why?” I asked, laughing a little as she came up onto her knees with a determined expression on her face.
“Greg was the one who liked it long. I’ve wanted to do a short cut in forever, but he made me feel like I couldn’t.”
Of course he did.
She pulled her knife from the holder on her belt and handed it to me.
“I’m not going to hack your hair off.”
“Please? I don’t have a mirror. It’ll look even worse if I do it.”
I didn’t want to do this, but I also didn’t want to be the kind of guy (cough—Greg—cough) who didn’t listen to Charlie and trust she knew what she was doing. “Alright, sit here. And drink the rest of your water, please.”
To my surprise, she crawled over my legs to sit between them. They were stretched on either side of her, and when she crossed her legs, her knees rested against my calves.
I had to swallow before I could speak. “How short do you want it?”
“Above my shoulders.”
I blew out a nervous breath as I held a small chunk of her hair and let the knife glide through it. Luckily, the knife was new and sharp, and the hair didn’t give any resistance as it fell.
I paused to see if Charlie flinched or changed her mind, but she only hummed a song she and I were making up in the evenings before we went to bed.
The tune was a mash-up of three of Lia’s songs, and the words were mostly about the foods we’d eat if given the chance.
It was a true work of art. Lia was definitely going to want to license it for her next album.
“Maybe we should add a verse about salt,” I mused. My fingers grazed the back of her neck as I lifted some hair that had gotten stuck under her shirt. She shivered, and I didn’t know if it was from my touch or the breeze.
I did it again, on purpose this time, and saw goose bumps rise along arms. Satisfaction rolled through me. She was as affected as me.
But why was I playing with fire?
“Mmhmm,” she said, her voice raspy. “Salt.”
Her shoulders relaxed as I cut her hair. I allowed myself the pleasure of sliding the backs of my fingers along her exposed skin—her neck, her cheek, her ear—as I separated out more hair to cut.
Her breathing hitched as my knuckles brushed against her collarbone. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.” She breathed out the word more than said it. She visibly swallowed. “It already feels better.”
She knew I hadn’t been talking about the haircut, but I’d let her pretend. I needed to let her pretend. Because it was all pretend—even if it didn’t always feel like it.
I knelt in front of her to cut the rest, needing the space to bring my brain back into working order. Charlie closed her eyes, deeply breathing in the fresh mountain air. Her eyelids were still swollen from crying.
Being out here, in nature, was centering. Cleansing. And that’s what I hoped all of Charlie’s crying was for her, too. A way to purge the sadness and heartbreak of Greg, and to find a path forward where she’d be even happier. She deserved it so much. She deserved the world.
“It’s going to get better.” I gently combed my fingers through her hair to find any strands I’d missed. She let out a pleasurable hum when my fingers scratched her scalp.
“What is?” Her voice was dreamy with relaxation.
“All this sadness. Not at first. At first, it hurts so much, it feels like survival is a constant decision, but then one day you wake up, and it’s not quite as bad as it’s been.”