Chapter 35 #2
Nic dropped her hands and slipped an arm around Alexys’s waist, pulling her into his side, his eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the shelter opening.
The gesture would have been, Alexys thought, protective, almost romantic, if she hadn’t managed to pull her arm back at the same time and solidly elbow him in the stomach.
Nic doubled over, a groan of pain escaping his lips.
Alexys pressed her hand against her mouth to try and smother her laughter.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Keane.” Nic sat heavily in the dirt, catching his breath. “You and these woods.” He shook his head.
“Don’t fret, Dyre, a little bit of thunder never killed anyone.” Alexys smirked.
“Perhaps, but who is to say my least favorite work associate won’t?” He was teasing, she knew, but she couldn’t fight smiling.
“Least favorite?” She grinned down at him. “I didn’t realize you held me in such high esteem.”
He returned her smile, although it was more of a grimace. “Don’t tell the others.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. What would your poor researchers think?”
“They’d be devastated. Hornsby might actually cry.”
She laughed a little and shook her head. “I’m sorry about your, er, stomach.”
Nic arched an eyebrow. “For elbowing me, or for not doing it harder?”
“Both.” She chuckled.
Alexys sat down next to him and looked out at the rain. It seemed to be letting up. She just had to hope it held through the morning so they could get back on track. Back to looking for Elliot. Alexys looked down at her hands, still banged up from her fall.
“Do you really think we’ll die out here?” She hadn’t meant to voice the question, but it had been nipping at her heels the entire hike, haunting her steps as they ventured further and further away from familiar territory. Alexys didn’t dare look at him as she waited for an answer.
Nic was quiet long enough that she began to wonder if she’d even asked the question out loud, but he finally said, “No, I don’t think we will.”
The smallest amount of emphasis was placed on the word “we,” and it made her stomach drop. They would survive, he had said, but Elliot …
“I’m going to lose my job over this.” It was a rhetorical question, one Alexys realized that she had come to terms with hours ago.
She’d violated so many company policies, there was no chance Kristin would keep her on.
She might as well look for new jobs on the flight back to South Carolina—if they ever made it out of the woods.
“She’s not going to fire you.” Nic knocked his knee against hers, and Alexys finally turned to look at him. His expression was so sincere she nearly forgot why they had even been fighting to begin with. “You are good at your job, Keane. Kristin can’t afford to lose you. Even I know that.”
“I lost a Warden,” she countered, “he’s probably dead in the woods somewhere. I’ve wasted company time and resources getting lost not once but twice, and I’ll have nothing to show for it. She has every reason to fire me.” Alexys let out a sharp, bitter sound. “Hell, I’d fire me.”
Nic looked at her, really looked at her. His gaze was so intent it nearly knocked her onto her back. “I wouldn’t.”
She swallowed. The atmosphere thickening once more, the tension she’d felt earlier returning to fill the space between them. She tore her eyes away, choosing to stare down at the dirt on her jeans.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Nic didn’t answer, but Alexys could feel his gaze on her. It did strange things to her stomach.
She liked it better when they argued. It was easy. Safe. The (mostly) empty insults and (sometimes) harmless banter was easier to endure than praise—than pity. Alexys hated pity. It made her feel small and hopeless.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?”
Alexys couldn’t tell if his question was sarcastic or not, so she deflected. “No … I’m just cold.”
“Do you want the extra sweater from my bag? Your shirt is still wet.” She was tempted to reject his offer for the sake of her own pride, but her shirt was still damp and horribly uncomfortable.
“Fine. Only because I can’t afford to add hypothermia to my list of failures this weekend.”
“Your gratitude, albeit horribly expressed, is noted.” Nic got up and rifled through his bag, then tossed her the sweater. “I’m afraid I don’t have any spare pants, not that they would fit you anyway.”
Alexys caught the sweater and stepped away from the fire to change.
It was a relief to be in dry clothes, and the sweater was surprisingly soft and deliciously warm.
She glanced over at the fire to make sure Nic still wasn’t looking and lifted the fabric to her nose.
It smelled like detergent and a hint of his cologne—a woodsy, clean smell.
Alexys recognized it from her many trips to his office.
“Does it fit all right?”
She jerked the collar away from her face. “Yeah, fits fine.” She pulled the sleeves over her cold fingers and quickly returned to her seat by the fire.
Nic looked up at her and stifled a laugh.
“What?” Alexys scowled at him and pulled the sweater tighter around her body.
“You look like a child wearing an adult’s clothes.” Nic leaned forward and pulled on the sleeve of the sweater. The collar slipped down, and the part that should have been on her shoulder drooped down her arm.
Alexys jerked the sweater back into place and slapped his hand away. “That’s because it’s an ugly ass sweater.”
Nic laid back on the ground, his hands tucked behind his head, and closed his eyes. A small smile played on his lips.
She almost couldn’t help the way her eyes traced down his torso, admiring how the position stretched his muscles and caused the edge of his shirt to ride up. Jerking her gaze away from the exposed sliver of skin, Alexys silently cursed the shirt for not doing its job properly.
She pulled and shifted the sweater, too conscious of all the ways it didn’t fit right. Wearing his clothes suddenly felt way too intimate, a feeling she wasn’t particularly prepared to deal with it.
“Don’t overthink it, Keane. It looks good on you.”
Her head snapped up, ready to get defensive, but Nic’s eyes were still closed. No signs of joking or taunting. Alexys tucked her head down into the warm knit and muttered a quiet thank you.
“Are your hands okay?”
Alexys shrugged. No. Did she want to admit it? Also, no.
He opened his eyes and propped himself up. “You know, from when you tried to fight off the Jackalope.” Alexys’s cheeks flushed. “I meant to get the first aid kit out, but then you punched me in the stomach. My sympathies were divided.”
Alexys laughed, the sound barely muffled by the sweater.
“Oh, yeah,” he drawled. “Laugh at my expense.”
“As if you wouldn’t laugh at mine.” She pushed the sleeves of her borrowed sweater up and surveyed her palms. They were certainly scraped to hell. It was hard to tell the difference between the dirt and the speckles of dried blood.
“At the very least we should disinfect the cuts.” Nic rolled over and procured a first aid kit from his pack.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” She grinned and couldn’t resist teasing, “You really took that eagle scout motto to heart. Always be prepared?”
“That’s actually not the scout motto, contrary to popular belief. And like I keep reminding you, Keane, I wasn’t a boy scout. I did Duke of Edinburgh.” He pulled out various bottles and bandages.
Alexys thought about telling him not to bother with it, but she was too tired to fight with him. He wasn’t wrong, either, she didn’t want an infection.