Chapter 17
Night falls early out herein the wilderness where there’s no electricity to fight back the darkness. It’s just as well. Neither of us has had a full belly of food in days, and we’re both still recovering from all that’s happened. We’re both ready to call it a day not long after our meager evening meal of green beans and pineapple chunks.
Despite how tired we are, however, the air in our little fortress grows unquestionably dense with tension as bedtime nears. Our past two nights sharing the tiny bed were inconsequential, seeing as how we were either blind with exhaustion or, in my case, literally comatose.
Tonight is different.
Shae must feel it too because she’s acting differently—fiddling with tidying up and rarely looking in my direction. She continues to fidget once we’re in bed. My dick is apparently plenty rested because all it takes is a momentary press of Shae’s ass for him to stand at attention.
“Woman, you need to quit your wiggling.” My voice is a gravelly growl that I hope she interprets as exhaustion rather than what it truly is—desire.
“I can’t help it. I’m a stomach sleeper. Sleeping on my side doesn’t feel right.”
The image of her sleeping naked on her stomach in my bed back home flashes in my mind. I can see myself align my body with hers and guide her thighs apart before pressing deep inside her. The vision is so detailed, it could be a memory. It’s more than enough to make me rock hard. Hell, my dick is a goddamn tree truck sprouted between us.
The next time she wiggles, I clamp my arm tight around her middle and pull her against me. Let her feel the effect she has on me.
Shae freezes on a ragged intake of breath.
“Told you to quit your fidgeting,” I murmur, wishing I knew what she was thinking. She has to know I can’t help it. His actions aren’t exactly voluntary. Of course, I didn’t have to pull her against me. That was pure selfishness, and I’m not remotely sorry.
At least now she knows whatever pitiful representation of my manhood she might have seen while I was sick wasn’t the whole picture. My pride dusts itself off and sits a little taller, much like my dick.
“I didn’t mean to … I was just trying to get comfortable.” She’s flustered, but I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not. I’ll feel like a real asshole if I find out later she was worried I might try to take advantage in the night. I might have fantasized about it, but I wouldn’t actually do it. Not really. Not unless I knew she wanted it.
Jesus, I sound like a creep.
I actively force myself to give her as much space as I can, which isn’t much, though I leave my top arm draped over her. I can’t bring myself to break that connection.
We both lie still. Awkwardly still.
The room is painfully quiet, save for a few pops and crackles coming from the stove. My exhaustion from minutes earlier has pulled a Houdini and disappeared. I wonder how long I’ll have to lie here before the tension dissipates. Probably until Shae falls asleep. Next, I wonder how long that might take if we’re equally uncomfortable, but all my questions are silenced when Shae slowly, deliberately leans her body back against mine.
Masculine satisfaction swells in my chest. Whatever hit my pride might have taken is now long forgotten as he stands atop a boulder and begins to pound his chest with his fists like fucking Tarzan.
This is a problem.
I want to tell myself it’s the circumstances—that it’s been one hell of a week, and she’s the only person around to find comfort in—but I taste the bitterness in the lie.
This craving in me isn’t merely a byproduct of our situation that will fade as soon as we’re home. It’s Shae. The way her skin is so damn soft under my fingertips. The way her hair still hints at a lingering scent of roses even though we don’t have a single bar of soap. It’s the knowledge that despite how inexcusably harsh I was with her, she did everything she could to help me when I needed her.
A shit ton of people out there would have seen my illness as a convenient way to conserve supplies. She’s plenty capable and didn’t particularly need me for her survival, but she kept me alive anyway. She’s honorable, compassionate, resilient—the list grows every day, making it harder for me to remember why wanting her would be a bad idea.
The fact that I would even consider shrugging my responsibilities as the Moretti family boss is a dangerous sign. A relationship between us wouldn’t work.
Not if you were back home. But we’re not home.
It’s true, and we may never make it back home. Why the fuck shouldn’t we do what we want while we can? What happens in the wilderness doesn’t have to follow us home.
I’m attempting to rationalize a bad decision. I hear it plain as day, but I don’t care. That’s the worst part. She’s got me so damn wound up that I’d intentionally fuck myself over if it meant keeping her close.
My hand presses flat against her belly as if in acceptance of my fate.
Never thought I’d give in to addiction. I’m not the type. Yet here I lie, happy to know I have at least one more day with my new drug of choice.
Chaos.
Morning bringsanother bout of anticipation, equally as consuming, but the source is entirely different. It’s time to check our traps. There are no words for how desperately I’m hoping to find that at least one of the snares worked.
I’m so fucking hungry it hurts.
If we didn’t eat at all, our stomachs might at least go numb to the hunger, but every tidbit of food we consume seems to enrage my stomach all over again like a child throwing a tantrum over a toy that’s been taken away.
“I will never take food for granted again,” I say aloud as we start toward the creek where we have our traps.
“No kidding.” Shae is especially somber this morning. We’re both feeling the weight of reality setting in. If we can’t catch our own food, we’ll be forced to make our journey to civilization in the dead of winter when the odds of our survival are slim to none.
“What’s your least favorite thing to eat?” I ask as a distraction.
“Hmm … maybe sauerkraut. I’m not a fan of anything fermented.”
“Would you eat it now?”
“In a heartbeat. I’d lick my plate clean.” She shoots me a small smile. “What about you? What’s something you usually refuse to eat?”
“Hardboiled eggs,” I say immediately. No need to think about it.
“Oh, yeah? Eggs are awfully good for you.”
“Sure, and I’ll eat them scrambled or over medium, but hardboiled is nasty. One part is Jell-O-like, and the other is all pasty. It’s just nasty. Makes me gag.”
“So it’s a texture thing. Interesting. And right now, if I set a plate of hardboiled eggs in front of you?”
“I’d eat that shit, and I’d be pissed about every damn bite of it,” I offer in a playfully petulant tone.
Shae laughs.
Fuck, do I love hearing that sound. It’s so uninhibited. So pure.
We grow quiet before cresting the small hill before the valley that houses the creek bed. When the area’s in view, we both scan from a distance. Shae’s hand suddenly clamps down on my arm.
“Ren, look at the one farthest from the tree. Is that something on the snare?”
I look, though my attention is divided between the snare and noting how much I like hearing her call me Ren. As a kid, I hated when people called me that. To this day, no one does because I won’t let them. I thought it sounded too feminine, like a cute little bird. On Shae’s lips, it sounds completely different. It sounds like mine, and I like the sound of that. A lot.
“I think you may be right. Let’s go look.”
Its white coat made the rabbit hard to see from a distance, but there’s no disguising it up close. We caught a goddamn rabbit, and I’ve never been so fucking elated in my life. The second we see it, Shae leaps into my arms, and we both whoop and holler. Our joy and relief are so effervescent even the sun peeks through the clouds to check out the commotion.
“Oh my God. Your shoulder.” Shae suddenly shoves away from me and slaps a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t tear the stitches, did I?”
“Wouldn’t care if you did.”
A brilliant grin spreads wide across her face. “Rabbit’s worth the celebration.”
Not what I meant, but it’s best if that’s what she thinks. “Come on, let’s get this sucker skinned and cooking.”
She whoops one more time and does a little jump that’s so fucking adorable, I’m tempted to abandon the rabbit and trap her instead. I’d press her against a tree and fuck her senseless so she knows what it feels like to lose your goddamn mind over someone.
Good thing for me, my stomach staunchly refuses that plan.
I take the dead rabbit from her once she frees it from the snare, then we fix a few of the snares that need to be readjusted. Our walk back to the cabin is infused with the hum of renewed energy as though we can’t get back fast enough.
“You know how to skin an animal?” Shae asks as we walk.
I consider how to answer, not wanting to explain that I’ve skinned something before, but it wasn’t an animal. That’s not something a person tends to share—I don’t want her looking at me like a savage. I’m still gauging my reply when she continues. “I saw my dad skin the stars off a Russian once, but that hardly seems the same.” Her contemplative words are so unexpected that I almost stumble in the snow.
“Your father let you watch that shit?”
“Yeah, my dad was awesome. He always let me be exactly who I wanted to be. It’s my cousins and the other dumbass men in the family who made me prove myself. Still do,” she adds under her breath.
I think about my two younger sisters and what I would have done if they’d wanted to work alongside me. Bria has only ever wanted to be a mother to her two kids, and Terina spends too much time on social media to have an interest in anything else. I can’t even begin to imagine them doing the things I do. But I can imagine how hard it would have been for Shae to convince men like me to give her a shot, especially when she was younger. It’s in our nature to protect women and children. Allowing her to put herself in danger goes against our DNA, but Shae was made to thrive in our world. She’s gritty and clever and so fucking tough.
“Seems like a waste of talent to keep you on the sidelines,” I admit.
“Right?” she balks. “Just because I don’t have a dick between my legs.” She pauses, and her voice is etched in uncertainty when she continues. “You really mean it?”
“I do. Lucky for you, doctors nowadays can fix that whole no-dick problem.”
She slugs me in my good arm while shaking her head and laughing. “That’s okay. I’m good with my bits exactly as they are.”
Fuck, so am I. I’m more than good. I’m fucking obsessed.
I domy best to skin the rabbit without getting fur on the meat, but we still have to wash it off when I finish.
“Rinse your hands, and I’ll take the bucket to get clean water,” Shae says once the prep is mostly done.
“No, I’ll go. It’s not safe for you to be out there alone.”
Her spine visibly stiffens. “But it’s safe for you? The one with stitches in his arm who’s currently covered in blood?”
Fuck, I know this isn’t going to go over well, especially after what we just talked about, but I can’t help the way I feel. I do my best to collect my thoughts so I don’t sound like a total hypocrite. “You’re an incredible fighter, Shae. I’ve seen you in action and know what you’re capable of, but there’s a four-hundred-pound bear out there somewhere. I probably have nearly a hundred pounds on you.”
“You think a measly hundred pounds would make a difference in the outcome?” Her eyes narrow to angry slits. “Because I’m pretty sure you end up dead the same as me if either of us go up against that bear. And in that case, the only reason you don’t want me to go is to keep me safely tucked away like a good little girl.”
“I’d have a little bit better of a chance,” I blurt in frustration before realizing the argument is utter bullshit. That bear would shred me to pieces in a heartbeat.
My teeth ground together until my jaw aches. “Fine.” I shove my hands in the water and start vigorously wiping away the blood with unnecessary vigor. “But you better take the ax.”
“So gracious of you, my liege, to allow me outside.” She curtsies, then swipes the bucket away from me, leaving me dripping bloody water on the cabin floor. The door slams shut behind her.
Well, shit. That was a clusterfuck.
I wipe my hands on a towel and put the skillet on the stove to distract myself. I’ve also put bones and other non-edible bits in a pan to stew for broth. We didn’t want a single ounce to go to waste. We even set aside the hide, though I have no fucking clue what we plan to do with it. Surely, we won’t be here long enough to need it.
I usher out the thought as soon as it forms. I don’t want to think about that today. I want to go back to the way it felt when we found the rabbit. For a few timeless minutes, everything was right in the world. Like anything was possible. I need that—we need that—if only for a day.
Then you need to find a way out of the hole you dug for yourself.
Seems a little ridiculous that what I said dug a hole, though. Was it so awful to want her safe?
I continue to mull over the question as I watch over the cooking meat. Soon, the savory smell has me feeling ravenous.
“Oh my God. That smells like heaven,” Shae says when she returns.
We both stand over the skillet and stare at the meat until it’s ready to eat. When that first bit of rabbit settles on my tongue, I have to close my eyes because I’m overwhelmed with how fucking divine it tastes. No spices or flavoring, and it’s still more delicious than I could imagine. Hunger has got to be the best seasoning to ever exist.
I don’t even care that the meat is still hot enough to scald my tongue. We devour every scrap, and the juices are poured into the broth pot, which we put on the stove to start simmering. The meal isn’t huge, but it’s so much more substantial than anything else we’ve had that we both sit back after eating like fat house cats who’ve licked their plates clean.
“You think we’ll get another one tonight?” Shae asks quietly as though she’s afraid to ask aloud and jinx our chances.
“God, I hope so. We might do a little more scoping to look for tracks. See if there’s any other places we want to set traps.”
“Don’t you think we should get that bonfire going first? Don’t need food if we can get rescued.”
“Yeah … I suppose you’re right.” I’d somehow put the bonfire out of my mind and forgotten about it. “Guess we should get to work while we have energy from the food.”
We spend an hour gathering the largest limbs we can. It takes another hour for the thing to get going without any accelerant. Once there’s a tower of flames, we stand nearby and watch in silence.
Logically, I know a rescue attempt won’t materialize immediately, but it feels odd to set the fire and walk away. Like we need to keep watch just in case. We’re so damn exhausted, though, that even standing there feels like a chore. Eventually, we give in and return inside, both of us regularly casting brief glances out the small cabin window. For what, I don’t know.
“What the hell do people do out here to kill time besides sleep?” Not that sleep sounds bad. I just don’t want to miss anything.
“I found a deck of cards the other night—it’s on the shelf. It was good for a few hundred rounds of solitaire.” She smirks, making light of the situation, but I’m reminded of what she did for me and how grateful I am.
“You were right,” I blurt out of nowhere, making sure to keep my gaze trained on hers. “I was trying to protect you instead of trusting your judgment. It’s a hard habit to break, but I’ll work on it.”
She nods and takes the cards out of their box. “War or crazy eights?” she asks with a soft smile.
I didn’t think she’d necessarily rub my apology in my face, but I’m still a bit surprised she lets me off the hook so easily. I remember thinking she always had to have the last word. It’s yet another way I misjudged her.
“Crazy eights? What kind of pussy games do you play?” I tease, following her lead back to a worry-free day of celebration.
“Scared you’ll lose?”
I crack my knuckles and sit forward on the stool. “Deal the cards and prepare to go down.” I hear my word choice after it’s already been said. I tell myself that not everyone is tuned in to double entendres, but I know I’m not alone when Shae’s blue eyes brighten with a smirk.
“In your dreams, big guy.”
As if my fantasies about her are limited to my dreams. If she knew where my imagination takes me lately, she’s likely to feed me to the bear.
We play close to a dozen hands of cards—all different games. She wins the majority and proclaims herself champion. For once, I don’t mind losing.
When the last glimmers of dusk reflect off the sparkling snow, we go stand by our dwindling bonfire. So far, the only thing to come from our blaze is a pile of ashes.
“Just because no one showed up yet doesn’t mean no one saw it,” Shae says aloud, though I have a feeling it’s more for her own benefit.
“Absolutely. And we can always try again.”
“Yeah,” she agrees quickly. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“I’m beat. Let’s get some rest.” I bump her shoulder and lead us back to the cabin, a cloud of dense emotions as thick as the smoke from our fire following us inside.