Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Dusk fell outside the cabin windows while Wade cooked dinner. Reese sat on the couch where he’d put her, with the mug of cold tea untouched on the coffee table. The room smelled like propane, old woodsmoke, and food she didn’t want to want.
Wade moved between the stove and the counter with his sleeves pushed to his forearms, opening cabinets, setting cans beside the sink, and putting a cutting board on the counter.
She kept both hands folded low over her belly and made herself stay still. Fighting every second had never helped with Wade. It made him tighten control. She’d lived with him long enough to know exactly how it went.
“You cold?” he asked.
“No.”
“Drink your tea.”
She picked up the mug from the coffee table and took a sip. It was cold chamomile tea.
Wade watched her drink. “Good,” he said. “That’s better.”
Reese set the mug down. Her stomach rolled, but she kept her face quiet.
“You’re going to eat,” Wade said.
“Okay.”
Wade looked at her for another second. Then he turned back to the counter, picking up a can opener to open a can of chili. He dumped the contents into a small pot and put the pot on a burner.
Reese kept her eyes down.
Wade opened the refrigerator and took out a package of cheese. He set it on the counter and then pulled a package of tortillas from the cabinet.
“See?” he said. “It’s easier for you when you cooperate.”
She kept her hands folded over her belly. “You’re right.”
He glanced over his shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips before he turned back to the stove.
Wade stirred the chili pot and then opened the tortilla package.
He put the cast-iron skillet on the front burner, sprayed it with cooking spray, and added the first tortilla.
He added shredded cheese to half and then folded the other side over the top of it.
He pressed it down with the spatula and started a second tortilla.
He waited until the bottoms were brown and then flipped them.
The smell of toasted flour, melted cheese, and warming chili filled the cabin.
Reese’s stomach tightened. She hated that the smell of Wade’s cooking made her feel so hungry.
Wade put the quesadillas onto plates and spooned chili into two bowls.
“Come sit at the table,” he said.
Reese got up from the couch. Her legs felt stiff, and her body ached from being pushed around. She crossed to the kitchen table and sat in the chair. Wade brought everything to the table and sat across from her.
“This reset period is exactly what you need,” he said. “You’ll see that once you calm down.”
Reese picked up her spoon.
“We’ll stay here until you understand that,” he said. “Then we’ll go home and start preparing for the baby. You’ll stop thinking you can run.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a bite of chili.
Wade smiled.
She hated that the food tasted good. She hated that the baby needed it. She took another bite and kept her face neutral.
Reese finished the chili because she was hungry enough that her hands had trembled around the spoon, each bite going down too fast despite the heat. The last bite sat hot and heavy in her stomach. She set the spoon down inside the empty bowl and let out a satisfied sigh.
“There,” Wade said. “See? That’s better. You always do better when you stop fighting me.”
Reese looked at the table. “You’re right.”
Wade smiled, satisfied, and pushed his bowl toward the center of the table. “I want you to wash up while I get firewood.” Wade crossed to the door and unlocked it. “This place gets cold once the sun goes down.”
Wade stepped outside, and cold air moved through the room. His boots crossed the porch, then the gravel. Reese stood, stacked the bowls and plates, and carried them to the sink.
She turned on the water. The cast-iron skillet sat on the stove beside her. The front door was open a crack.
She turned off the water and stood perfectly still, listening. The tarp at the woodpile scraped as Wade pulled it back. Reese crossed the room, opened the door, and slipped outside.
Cold air hit her face when she stepped onto the porch. She heard Wade stacking wood into his arms at the side of the cabin. She pulled the door almost shut behind her and moved toward the stairs as quietly as she could. She took the steps quickly, one hand on the rail, the other over her belly.
When she reached the gravel, her heart was already beating in her throat. Then Reese ran. The tree line looked close in the falling dark. She ran across the clearing, her breath coming fast, her shoes slipping on the gravel. Behind her, Wade dropped the wood he’d been carrying.
“Reese,” he growled.
She ran harder.
His heavy boots hit the gravel fast behind her.
The sound erased everything else. Reese aimed for the dark gap between two pines, but the ground dipped where she did not expect it.
Her foot landed badly. She lost her balance, fell forward, and landed on all fours. Pain shot through her palms and knees.
She pushed herself up as fast as she could. Dirt stuck to her skin. The baby shifted in her belly, and fear hit her so hard she almost stopped. But she didn’t. She made it three more steps before Wade caught the back of her hoodie.
The fabric jerked tight at her throat.
Reese grabbed at the collar with both hands, choking. Wade yanked her backward. She stumbled into him. His arm locked around her middle before she could twist away.
“Look what you did,” he said.
She tried to kick back, but he dragged her off balance and turned her toward the cabin. Her shoes scraped over the gravel. She dug in once, hard, and he pulled until pain flashed through her shoulder.
“You fell because you ran into the dark,” Wade said. His voice had gone low and cold. “You could have hurt the baby.”
Reese stopped fighting, guilt sharp in her chest. He hauled her across the clearing, up the steps, and through the front door. Inside, he kicked the door shut behind them and locked it with the key.
He then shoved her toward the couch. She caught herself against the arm and sat before he could push harder.
“Stay there.”
Wade crossed the room and disappeared into the hallway. A cabinet opened. Something shifted inside it. Reese looked at the door, then at the fireplace tools, but her legs were shaking too badly to carry her anywhere. Wade came back with a coil of thin rope in one hand.
“No,” Reese said.
“Hands.”
She held them against her belly.
His jaw tightened. “Give me your hands, Reese.”
She looked at the rope, then at his face. The least dangerous choice was the one that kept him from putting his hands on her again. Slowly, she held out her wrists. Wade crouched in front of her and tied them together. Reese pulled at the rope, but it tightened around her wrists when she did.
“Now you’re going to listen,” Wade said, hands on either side of her hips. His face was inches from hers.
She held her bound hands against her stomach.
“I’m doing this because you keep making choices that put my child at risk.”
Reese stared at him.
“If I have to keep you here until the baby comes, I will.” His voice stayed low and even.
The cabin was getting colder, but Reese felt sweat gather under her hair.
“You don’t get to take my child from me,” Wade said. “You don’t get to run off, hide, and decide I don’t matter.”
She cupped the curve of her belly with one hand, the rope tight on her wrists.
“You need to understand something right now.” He leaned closer, close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her face. “If you try to take my child from me again, it will be the last thing you do.” He said it like it was a simple fact.
And Reese believed him. Wade stayed close for another moment, watching her face.
Then he stood and went to the door. “I’m getting the wood.”
Reese said nothing.
He took the key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped outside. This time, the padlock snapped into place behind him. His boots crossed the porch. Reese’s palms stung from the fall. Her knees throbbed. The baby moved under her bound hands.
Wade came back with an armload of wood. He set it by the fireplace and locked the door again. He then crouched at the hearth with his back to her.
Reese watched him build the fire. The same hands that had tied her wrists now stacked kindling, struck a match, and adjusted the wood. He was not out of control. That was the part that scared her most.
Wade didn’t love the baby. He wanted to own it. If she ran, he’d consider it theft. If she fought, he would call it danger. If he believed he was losing control, he would kill her before he let her leave with Elsie.