Chapter 36 The Morning After #2
I watched as Aiden meticulously sorted through the crinkling bags, his brow furrowed in concentration.
He pulled out a handful of crunchy chips and a couple of energy bars wrapped in bright packaging that caught the light.
With a swift motion, he handed the bounty to me, his fingers brushing against mine, a fleeting connection amidst the chaos.
I turned to Mateo. He sat stiffly, knees knocking the seat in front of him, staring at the chips like he wasn’t sure he remembered how to eat.
I offered him a bag of chips, the crisp sound echoing like a promise of normalcy, and together we began to nibble, the simple act grounding us in the moment.
That’s when he decided to finally break the silence.
“Did I…” He swallowed. “Did I hurt anyone?”
“No, sweetheart,” I replied too fast.
Then I cupped the back of his neck, forcing him to meet my eyes.
“You didn’t hurt anyone. What happened out there wasn’t you,” I explained. “You didn’t choose anything,” I said quietly. “And choice is what makes someone responsible. You hear me?”
“Okay,” he said. But he didn’t look convinced.
Aiden kept driving until the sun dipped below the horizon, while inside the cab, silence wrapped around us like a heavy blanket.
Aiden’s focus remained unwavering, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, searching for any unseen threats. Each time I glanced at him, I noticed the tension coiling in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.
As night enveloped us, the landscape transformed into a blur of darkness, punctuated by the occasional flicker of headlights from passing cars.
My heart raced in rhythm with the tires on the asphalt, the air thick with unspoken fears and hopes.
I leaned closer to Mateo, who had fallen into a fitful sleep, his body awkwardly curled against mine.
When we finally left the highway and bounced up a rutted dirt road, I realized just how far we’d run.
The mountains were different here: the trees higher, older, hunched in the fog like sentries who’d seen too much.
The silence was so profound that it pressed against the glass, distorting every sound the truck made.
Aiden parked in front of an honest-to-God log cabin.
If it hadn’t been for the blood on his face and the way my knuckles still ached, I’d have laughed out loud.
It was almost cartoonishly wholesome: a wide porch, a stack of split wood, a single porchlight glowing faintly through the mist. There were even rocking chairs.
All it needed was a dog, or maybe a half-dozen feral wolves chewing on a deer carcass to bring it up to code.
Aiden killed the lights, then turned to me. His voice was low, wary, like he was afraid I might shatter if he spoke too loudly. “We’ll stay here until it’s safe. The pack knows not to come around unless I call.”
I nodded, trying to be brave, but I tasted the lie on my tongue. Safe was a word I didn’t know anymore.
He slid out of the truck, coming around to my side.
I tried to open the door on my own, but my hands wouldn’t steady, so he did it for me.
Mateo was limp in my lap, but alive, his breathing steady and low.
I unbuckled him, and he curled into my chest like a child half his age. It was all I could do not to sob.
The porch groaned under our weight. Aiden unlocked the door with a key he wore around his neck, as if this place was more secret than sacred. Inside, the air was cold but dry.
The cabin was one big room: kitchen, living, dining, all open to each other, with a narrow hallway leading to what I guessed were the bedrooms. The walls were honey-gold pine, the floors ancient and scarred, each plank wide enough to lie down in.
The fireplace was already stacked with wood, the old stones stained black from decades of use.
Aiden helped me set Mateo on the couch, a battered leather thing that swallowed him whole. He stayed upright for a second, swaying, then dropped back against the cushions.
“I’m fine,” he muttered in half a protest. His voice cracked.
I knelt in front of him. “You don’t have to be.”
He didn’t answer. Just nodded once, too sharp, jaw tight like he was holding something in with his teeth.
When I sat beside him, he leaned into me without looking at me, his shoulder pressed to my ribs like it was accidental. It wasn’t.
He blinked up at me, eyes vacant, then closed them again.
Aiden then moved through the space, checking the windows, locking them, and pulling down the blinds.
Then he moved to the fireplace, where soon a small fire started.
His hands were quick, efficient, but his shoulders were up around his ears, a sure sign he was one bad memory away from bolting out the door.
When he finished, he knelt in front of me, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Do you need anything?”
A thousand answers clawed at my throat, but all I could say was, “I need not to lose him.”
Aiden’s eyes darkened.
He reached out, hesitated, then placed a hand on my knee, grounding me. “You won’t. I promise.”
Behind us, the fire popped as it caught, filling the cabin with the sharp scent of burning pine.
The warmth was instant, a blanket thrown over the chill that had sunk into my bones.
For the first time in hours, I let myself sag into the couch, Mateo curled against my side, the fire painting both our faces gold.
I looked at Aiden, really looked, and saw what I’d missed before. He was exhausted, streaked with dried blood and dirt, his knuckles raw, his shirt hanging in tatters. But his eyes were clear, and the set of his jaw said he’d die before letting anything through that door.
I swallowed. “What if he comes back?”
“He won’t,” Aiden said, and there was no doubt in it. “Not tonight. Not while you’re with me.”
It should have sounded arrogant. Instead, it just sounded true.
We sat like that for a long time, Aiden in the chair across from us, body tense but eyes half-lidded, and me on the couch, with Mateo sleeping in my lap.
The only sound was the fire, and the wind outside rattling the shutters.
Every so often, I thought I heard something, a crack of a branch, the crunch of footsteps on dried leaves, but Aiden never moved, so I let it go.
At some point, I realized there were wolves outside, silent as statues, their shapes barely visible through the window panes.
One wolf sat on the porch, tail wrapped neatly around its feet, staring through the glass.
Behind it, yellow eyes glowed near the tree line.
They didn’t seem threatening, just…watchful.
I wondered if they were Aiden’s pack, or something else.
I didn’t care. Let them watch. Let the whole world watch.
Inside, the cabin felt like the center of the universe: a single, warm circle in a night full of monsters. For the first time in forever, I wasn’t running. I wasn’t even hiding. I was just here, alive, with my son in my arms and a wall of fur and fangs between me and the man who’d tried to ruin us.
The exhaustion hit me all at once. My eyes stung, my limbs gone heavy. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and listened to Mateo’s heartbeat, slow and regular, as the fire hissed and the wolves kept watch.
Tomorrow would come, and with it all the old dangers and new fears.
But for tonight, the only thing that mattered was that we were still here.