Chapter 19 #2
“James,” I said. “You’ll freeze. You don’t even have a sweatshirt. And on you, that sleeping bag is more like a sleeping skirt.”
“I’ll be fine—thanks to the amazing fire someone built us.”
I looked at my creation, admiring the dancing orange flames. “It is a pretty good fire, isn’t it?”
“Top five.”
I snorted. “You’re such a liar. But really…you’ll be too cold.”
He lay down and interlaced his fingers behind his head.
I blinked away the déjà vu—I’d imagined him just like this once before.
“Nah,” he said. “I’ll keep adding logs to the fire. Besides, I sleep hot.”
That, I could believe.
I studied him, the fire casting flickering shadows across his profile. He obviously wasn’t worried, so I lay down and stared up at the sky.
I took in a sharp breath.
We’d been out all night, but somehow this was the first time I’d looked up. The inky blue sky was littered with twinkling stars, like someone had taken a shaker bottle of glitter and gone wild.
A leaf dropped from one of the branches in my peripheral vision, fluttering slowly to the ground. I couldn’t tell if it was orange or had just taken on the color of the flames.
A shiver of pleasure vibrated through me at the sense of magic in the air.
I was really, really glad I’d said yes to James.
I looked over at him, staring up at the sky, his expression unreadable. I felt a sudden and increasingly familiar hunger to know the thoughts in his mind, to understand him. Really understand him like no one else in this town did.
“I’m sorry about what happened with Mrs. Rigby at the hardware store yesterday,” I said softly.
James’s head turned so his gaze met mine, the fire reflected in his eyes.
“Do a lot of people treat you that way here?” I asked softly.
“Some.”
“They shouldn’t.”
He turned his head forward again, staring up at the stars. “I understand why they do.”
“Yeah, but it’s been eight years.”
“Eight years they’ve watched my mom struggle without me. I didn’t exactly make myself any friends here before I left, either. It’d be silly to expect any now.”
Ever since James had come home, I’d been trying so hard to prove I could do business with him without betraying Ryan. It felt traitorous to befriend the man my brother hated.
But the man didn’t exist anymore.
How long would James have to pay for his mistakes before people would be satisfied? Before I could stop reminding myself what he’d done to dam up the feelings I had for him?
If Ryan wanted to hold onto his anger toward James, that was his prerogative.
I was done trying to punish him or hold him at arm’s length.
“You’ve got me.” As soon as the words came out, my heart thumped.
James’s head turned again.
I tried for a smile. “Friends?”
His gaze had never felt so piercing. “Friends.”
We looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of us talking.
Now that I’d put a platonic label on our relationship, though, the thoughts and feelings I had were already trying to burst out of the box.
“I should get some sleep,” I said.
“You should.”
“Good night, friend,” I said, like I could will the relationship and feelings into being by mere repetition.
“Good night, Sadie.”
I shut my eyes, knowing it would take me an eon to achieve calm, much less sleep.
Once or twice, I thought I felt James’s gaze on me, but I kept my eyes shut, forcing my thoughts to focus on the crackling of the fire and the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves and licked at the skin on my face.
At some point, I heard James add a log to the fire, and it wasn’t long after he got back in his sleeping bag that I finally nodded off.
My eyes fluttered open, but something blocked my vision. I blinked and blinked, then pulled my arm out of my sleeping bag to brush a leaf from my face. It must’ve dropped on me and woken me.
Lids heavy, I turned on my side, catching a bleary view of James’s dark form a few feet away. It looked like he was turned toward me, but I couldn’t see his face, and the warm glow that I’d fallen asleep to was gone. I wiggled my toes in my socks. They were warm, but not with the heat of the fire.
It must have gone out.
I closed my eyes and shifted to get comfy again. Maybe sleeping in three feet of snow was more feasible than I’d thought.
There was a sudden rustling, and my eyes flew open, my body going still.
I looked at James to see if it had been his sleeping bag, but he was completely still.
The rustling repeated, very clearly coming from somewhere behind me.
My heart knocked against my ribs. Should I turn around and see what it was?
What if it was a bear? Were you supposed to play dead? Or was that with mountain lions?
All the questions I should have asked James when I’d had the chance pelted my brain.
Another rustling.
Closer this time.
“James,” I whispered. My voice was hoarse from disuse.
I went quiet, listening for more movement.
The few feet between James and me felt like the difference between survival and certain death. A bear didn’t need two humans for its midnight snack—or whatever time it was.
Another rustling snatched the breath left in my lungs.
Grabbing the edge of my pad with one hand and my sleeping bag with the other, I scooted toward James in a panicked, ungraceful wriggle, like a caught fish flopping toward water.
When there was a foot left between us, James stirred, and I stopped abruptly. His hands were clasped on his chest.
More rustling.
I grasped his cold hand. “James,” I hissed.
He stirred, his eyes slowly fluttering open. His sleepy gaze settled on me and immediately grew more focused.
“There’s something out there,” I whispered. “In the trees.”
He blinked a few times, then raised up on his elbow, his gaze searching around. A little shiver ran through him, and he looked at the dark pit, where just a few embers glowed.
He grabbed the flashlight next to his sleeping bag and got out. “Where did you hear it?”
“Behind me. Back there.” I pointed in the direction of the sound.
He directed the light there, then walked toward it. Toward mortal peril.
“What if it’s a bear?” I whisper-hissed as he walked into the trees.
I debated for a second, then scrambled out of my bag. Apparently, I preferred walking into danger in company to being a sitting duck by myself.
The warmth of my sleeping bag gave way to the cold night air, and I shuddered, hurrying up beside James as his flashlight scanned the area.
There was another big rustle, and I grabbed his arm instinctively. The solidness of it reassured me.
The flashlight roamed, then settled on a tree trunk.
James looked down at me, latched onto his arm like it was the only thing standing between me and the gruesome headline of tomorrow’s news. “Squirrel.”
Sure enough, a bushy-tailed squirrel stared at us like a deer in the headlights, its tiny paws gripping the bark in a way oddly reminiscent of how I was gripping James’s arm. It stayed stock-still before scrambling up the trunk and out of sight.
I let out a big breath and released James’s arm. “In my defense…”
He smiled. “It’s okay. How long were you imagining the worst before you woke me?”
“Hours,” I said.
His eyes widened.
“Okay…minutes.”
He chuckled, and we headed back to our sleeping bags. “Have you slept okay?” He yawned.
“Like a baby. Until the evil squirrel. You?”
“Took me a while to get to sleep, but I must’ve been out pretty good for the fire to have gone down so much.” He chafed his hands and blew on them. “Have you been warm enough?”
“Yeah. But you haven’t. Your hands are freezing.” I touched one of them. “James! It’s like ice!”
“I’m okay,” he insisted, but the little bumps all over his skin said otherwise. “I’m going to add some wood to the fire and see if I can get it started again.”
“I’ll help.”
There were enough embers that a little more tinder was all it took to get things going, and a few minutes later, we went back to our sleeping bags. This time, I made sure to get there first so I could take the Batman one.
“My turn,” I said as James opened his mouth to protest.
He snatched it out of my hands, an unapologetic, kind thief.
“I’m dressed much more warmly than you, James. Feel my hands.” I put them out, and after a quick glance at me, he grasped one of them.
“It’s cold,” he said.
“It was warm a few minutes ago,” I argued.
Giving me a skeptical look, he climbed into the Batman bag.
I shot him a peeved look and shimmied into the one I’d been using. The fabric had gone cold, and a shiver ran down my entire body.
I shot a sidelong glance at James, but he’d noticed.
I got situated on my mat, which was still less than a foot from his, thanks to my fish-wriggle.
“It’ll take a few minutes to warm back up,” he said, settling back onto his mat. He lay back, his hands gripping the top of the Batman bag right at his chest like he was about to participate in a gunny-sack race.
Just looking at his fingers made me cold.