Chapter Nine
The fever had finally broken. I could feel it in the way my skin no longer burned against the air and my stomach was finally still.
The headache lingered, but it was manageable.
My ears still rang with a constant, high-pitched hum that I hoped wasn’t permanent.
But I wasn’t curled over a bowl anymore or drowning in sweat from fever.
Dawson hadn’t left my side. These moments between us had changed things.
First of all, he no longer kept me tied up.
He never said anything about me being untied when he found me that day he left.
The Kubotan was gone and I had no idea what happened to it.
I didn’t know if that meant he’d found it or if I’d lost it in whatever happened to me the day I tried to escape.
There were other subtle, quiet shifts too.
His hand brushing mine when he passed me water.
The way he checked my forehead without saying anything.
His palm would reach out and graze my skin like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I caught him watching me a couple of times today too.
Not the way that he used to. It’s different now. His gaze was soft and curious.
We never talked about why we were here. Never said the words out loud: that he’d taken me or that I was his prisoner. It was as if naming it would snap whatever strange thread had formed between us.
I should’ve thought about escape. About the trail.
The truck. The world outside this cabin.
But all I thought about was getting better and healing.
It’s what we both focused on today. Our concentrated efforts, and we did most of it in silence.
A silence that was comfortable and connected in such an unusual way, but this was a strange situation, so what did I expect?
“I’m going to cook us an actual meal tonight, since you’re feeling better,” he announced shortly after he’d brought me in from outside to use the bathroom.
I sat propped on the mattress while he moved around the stove like a man who’d done this a thousand times.
The meat sizzled in the pan, and the steam rose as he poured water into a pot of rice on the stove.
The fact that he’d done it all with a small camping grill was the most impressive part of the whole thing.
He laid out two place settings on the table when he’d finished, and that’s when I realized he really meant what he said about us eating dinner together.
Our knees almost touched underneath the small table.
The air was thick with awkwardness and unanswered questions.
He’d made hamburger, but my stomach was still too weak from being so ill for it to be appetizing.
I moved mine around on my plate while he quickly scarfed his down. He was obviously starving.
“Thanks,” I said before taking a small bite. “For taking care of me and doing all this.”
He nodded. His cheeks were flushed, either from embarrassment or being over the fire. I didn’t know him well enough to determine which. He looked as unsure about what was happening right now as I felt.
It was like we were on a weird first date.
The silences. The scrape of forks against plates.
Sounds of chewing while you tried to figure out what to say.
Quick stolen glances across the firelight.
But it was also strangely comforting. It felt so good to be doing something as routine and regular as a dinner.
“Can I help you clean up?” I asked, hesitant and unsure, when we finished.
Neither of us had mentioned that he was still unmasked and I was still untied.
It was one thing to be free while I was laid out on the mattress with a fever, but it was another thing entirely to be moving about the cabin totally free.
He shook his head and pointed at the makeshift bed. “Why don’t you go lay back down? I don’t want you to tire yourself out too soon and have a setback.”
I nodded and slowly walked back to the mattress. I didn’t know what to make of this change. Was there a world where I just talked him into walking out of here and pretending like this never happened?
I lay back down on the mattress and watched the fire burn.
My lids grew heavy right away. Dawson was right.
Even the brief journey out of the bed and sitting up for so long had taken a lot out of me.
I’d closed my eyes and was just drifting off to sleep when the mattress dipped as Dawson stretched out beside me on it.
He didn’t say a word. Just lay down like it was perfectly normal.
He didn’t touch me. Still hadn’t looked at me.
His chest moved up and down with his steady breathing.
My pulse quickened. I stared at the ceiling, my body rigid and my mind spiraling. What would I do if he touched me? I squeezed my eyes shut. The silence between us wasn’t awkward and uncomfortable this time, like it’d been at dinner. It was intimate.
What was he doing? What was happening?
My breath caught in my throat as his hand brushed against mine.
Terror spiraled fast. A thousand alarms screaming at once.
And then, without warning, he leaned in to kiss me.
“Don’t,” I whispered, putting my hand in front of my face to stop him.
He froze. His body tense and trembling. I felt his breath against me. His excitement next to my leg. I lay still, unmoving.
I shook my head. “No.”
A strangled sound broke from his throat. It was half rage, and the other half shame. “God dammit!”
I flinched and curled into myself, bracing for him to hit me, but thankfully, his fist didn’t come. Instead, something in him shifted. His shoulders sagged and the fury drained from his body as quickly as it’d been ignited.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he stammered.
He rolled over and lay rigid next to me. His fists were clenched at his sides. His breath came in irregular jerks. And then, without warning, he pressed his face into my shoulder and let out a small broken sound like a wounded animal. I felt his pain in every part of my body.
I carefully, terrified and against my better judgment, lifted my arm awkwardly around him. He settled into the nook. It wasn’t a hug. Not really comfort either. Just contact.
And then we just lay there in the dark.
Unmoving.
Not speaking.
Barely breathing.
I couldn’t tell how much time had passed before he suddenly wrenched himself away from me. He jumped up from the mattress and hurried across the cabin. He grabbed his flannel from the back of the chair and stormed out. He slammed the door so hard the walls shook.
And then, I was alone again.