Chapter 9 James
james
She doesn't need to ask me twice. It wasn’t a request in the first place. The crack in her voice told me her ask was a plea from a woman who's been white-knuckling her way through life finally letting go of the wheel for five seconds.
So I stay.
I add two more logs to the wood stove and close the iron door. The fire catches fast. Within twenty minutes the cold has pulled back to the corners of the room. The center is warm and golden.
Evelyn is on the couch wrapped in the wool blanket I brought.
Her knees are pulled up and her dark curls are loose around her face.
The firelight moves across her skin and I have to look away for a second because the sight of her takes my breath away.
She’s all soft curves, and a warm smile lit up by the fire I built for her.
That does something to my chest that I can't describe and I don't want to examine too closely.
"If I had known you were coming, I would have dressed up for the occasion." She gestures at herself. The oversized sweater slips off one shoulder and the wool socks are pulled up to her calves.
I shake my head. She has no idea what she looks like right now. She looks like everything I didn't know I was waiting for.
"Sweetheart, you look perfect."
Sweetheart. The word slips out before I can stop it. I watch it land on her face. It’s surprise first, then something warmer. She pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders and the corner of her mouth twitches.
"James." She turns to face me. My name on her lips sounds like a place she wants to live. "Why did you come all the way up here tonight?"
I lean forward in the chair with my elbows on my knees. I clasp my hands because if I don't they're going to reach for her and I'm not going to be that man tonight. Tonight I'm going to be the man who sits in the chair.
"Because you're alone. Because the power's out and the storm is bad and you've been doing everything by yourself for so long that you've forgotten you don't have to.
" I pause and my throat runs dry. "And because I look at you and the part of me that's been dead since I came home isn't dead anymore. "
The cabin goes still. It’s just the fire and the storm and the sound of her breathing.
Evelyn stares at me. Her dark eyes are wet in the firelight. Her lips are parted. She's looking at me like I just handed her something fragile and she doesn't know whether to hold it or run.
I hope she holds it.
"You can't just say things like that," she whispers.
"I don't know how to say anything else."
She's quiet for a long time. The fire pops. The wind howls against the walls.
Then she pulls the blanket tighter. "My ex. He wasn't a good guy. He didn't hit me. People always want to know that first. Like it only counts if there's a bruise. But he found ways to hurt me.”
I go still. Every muscle locks into place. Not because of what she's saying but because of the way she's saying it. Her words are so soft I can barely hear them, but they’re controlled. I wonder how many times she’s told the story to get the phrasing down.
"He controlled everything. What I wore. Who I talked to.
Where I went. He tracked my phone and read my emails and showed up at my work.
Got me fired two times. He made sure I knew he was always watching.
It started small. You know, suggestions, opinions, and gaslighting me over the strangest things.
Then it escalated so gradually I didn't see it happening.
Like water heating degree by degree until you're boiling. "
I nod, desperate for her to keep going. I want to hear every word she is willing to share. I don't move and I don't speak. It isn’t a moment for action. This is a moment for sitting in a chair and letting a woman who's been carrying this alone finally set it down.
"I left in the middle of the night. My sister's car was in the driveway. I had a bag I packed one item at a time over three months. I already knew I was heading here. I’d done my homework.
I picked a town at the bottom of a canyon because the geography looked like a wall and I needed a wall between me and everything I was. "
Her voice is eerily steady. It’s the voice of someone who has trained herself to deliver the worst parts of her life like a weather report.
"The fear is the part that stayed with me.
The constant, humming fear that he'll find me never goes away.
I worry that one day he'll be standing in the stacks at the library and everything I've built will collapse around me.
" She looks at me. Firelight in her eyes. She lets out a huff. “I know what you're thinking, it’s what always comes next. Why didn’t I leave sooner…”
“No. You aren’t right. That’s not what I was thinking at all. I was thinking, thank you for telling me.”
She blinks. "That's it?"
"What were you expecting?"
"I don't know. Everyone has a reaction, pity or horror even. My parents said he seemed so nice. My therapist had protocols. My sister had a baseball bat."
"I don't have a reaction. I have a response." I look at her steadily. "He's never getting near you again."
“You don’t know that. You can’t promise—”
“I do know that. And it’s not a promise. It’s a simple fact.”
Something shifts in her face. It looks like a release. Like a knot that's been pulled tight for years finally loosening. “Well, I’ll take it and I appreciate it. But now it’s your turn.”
"What?"
"I just told you the worst thing about me. We’re trapped up here together. I need to learn something about you."
I almost smile. Almost. “You’re negotiating emotional reciprocity?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I am.”
“Okay then, here it goes. My ex-wife left me for my best friend.”
Evelyn lets out a gasp and covers her mouth with her hands.
I continue, “Yeah, I know. It’s bad stuff.
I was deployed on my third tour. We'd been married seven years and together since we were nineteen.
She called to tell me she was leaving. She failed to mention at the time that the person she was leaving with was the guy I'd trusted more than anyone in the world. "
The words feel like rocks. Heavy, rough-edged. But she gave me the shape of her fear, and I can give her mine.
“I’m sorry that happened to you. I can’t imagine.”
It’s been a long time since I talked about my past. "I didn't come home after that.
Not for a long time actually. I extended and volunteered for tours.
The military was easier. I needed the structure, the mission, and someone telling me where to be so I didn't have to figure out who I was outside of it.
I let the uniform be my identity because the person inside it was empty. "
“What finally brought you back?” Her voice is soft and laced with soothing compassion.
"I came home because my body gave me a deadline. I was twenty-one years in. A full career behind me when I drove back to Iron Peak because Jocelyn and my mom are here. I told myself I was coming home to take care of them." I look at my hands. "They took care of me instead. If I’m being honest."
Evelyn is nodding and she’s very still. “That’s what family does.” The blanket has slipped from her shoulders. She's not holding it anymore.
"I've been back for three months. And until two weeks ago, I couldn't tell you a single reason to stay that didn't come down to guilt. Then I walked into a library and saw a woman on the floor with picture books on her knee and glasses sliding down her nose, and something clicked."
She makes a sound that’s half laugh, half something else.
Then she moves. It isn’t fast, but it’s deliberate.
She stands from the couch and crosses the small distance between us.
I don't breathe because she's standing right in front of my chair.
The firelight is behind her. Her curls are wild around her face.
"Move over," she says.
I shift. She fits herself into the chair beside me.
She’s half in the chair and half in my lap.
The weight of her curves on my lap ignites me.
I put my arm around her because my body knows what to do even when my brain is short-circuiting.
Her head finds my chest. Her cold fingers find the collar of my flannel. She smells like vanilla and woodsmoke.
Heat fires through me. "Hey." My voice is rough. "There's no schedule. No pressure. I can sit in this chair all night."
She lifts her head and looks at me. Those dark eyes. The bare shoulder. The firelight.
"What if I don't want you to sit in the chair all night? I haven't been touched by someone I actually wanted touching me in a very long time," she says into my shirt.
My heart stops. Restarts. My hand is in her hair and I don't remember putting it there.
"Then tell me what you want."
"You. I just want you."
I tip her face up. My thumb traces her cheekbone. I move slowly and I watch her face for the flinch, but it doesn't come. Her eyes stay on mine and her lips part. She leans into my hand like she's been starving for this and didn't know it until right now.
"I'm going to kiss you," I say. "Nod if that's okay."
She nods and it makes something possessive and primal claw through my chest.
I lower my mouth to hers. Our lips touch and it’s soft, but there's nothing uncertain about it. Then I part her lips with my tongue and kiss her like I've been thinking about this for weeks. Her hands find my chest. Her palms press flat against my flannel. My heart hammers in my chest.
She makes a sound against my mouth. My hands tighten on her face and I let out a low, rough groan in response.
I deepen the kiss, hungry for more of her.
My hand slides from her jaw to the back of her neck.
My fingers thread into her hair. My other hand drops to her waist and I gently pull her closer.
"Stop being careful," she whispers against my mouth.
Something breaks behind my eyes. The last wall is gone and I lose myself. I lift her with both hands under her thighs and get to my feet. She wraps her legs around my waist and I carry her to the bedroom in the dark.
The moonlight illuminates the room. The bed is unmade and the room is cold. But none of it matters because she's pulling my flannel off and her hands are on my skin. Her fingers trace the lines of ink on my arms with an expression of focused wonder that nearly ends me.
I set her on the bed and take her glasses off carefully. I fold them and put them on the nightstand. Without them her face goes soft and I am the only thing in focus.
"Tell me if you want to stop," I say. "At any point."
"I know you will. That's why I'm here."
From there it’s a frenzy. I take my time. I ask. With every shift, every touch, and every new territory, I claim her.