FRICTION
Chris
Iwake with the weight of her draped over me and it’s perfect.
They looked good together last night. The only thing missing on that couch was me.
The training session was hard to endure for all of us, but she recovered fast. Cash handled the situation well. I can’t remember the last time he was this involved, if ever.
She trusts us more each day, whether she realizes it or not. The way she’s sprawled across me now, her body already does. Her head rests on my chest, an arm slung over my shoulder, one leg tangled with mine. It looks like she claimed me in her sleep without meaning to.
This is her, unfiltered and stripped of every defense. She’s simply here, with me. I tell myself it’s comfort, yet my pulse gives me away. If she keeps choosing this spot, pressed against me, I’ll stop pretending I don’t want more. Parts of me already have.
She shifts with a sleepy murmur, and I know I have to move before I won’t be able to. Carefully, I peel her off me, limb by precious limb.
I tug the blanket higher over her shoulder and watch her face. She frowns but doesn’t wake.
My mind’s already working. If she wants to stay, I’ll make it work.
The logistics flicker behind my eyes like an op plan: new identities, a border crossing, a new start.
My records will still be a problem, a complex one.
Cash was right about one thing: we solved it once.
We can do it again. I bet he’s already scheming.
I’d burn my entire world to ashes if it meant building a new one where she’d be happy. But it has to come from her. I won’t cage her, even if every part of me wants to keep her here.
I throw on clothes and head downstairs. Cash is in the kitchen. Barefoot, sleeves shoved up, filling a mug as if he owns the place. I don’t say a word until I’m next to him.
“Morning,” I mutter, stealing his coffee right out of his hand.
He snorts. “Morning. Sleep okay?”
I sip. “Define okay.”
Cash smirks. “She was all over you when I passed by earlier. You two looked... cozy.” His eyebrow lifts.
My lips twitch. “Stalker.”
“Says the guy who lurked in the shadows last night.”
“Touché,” I chuckle, leaning against the counter. “You know, I always thought I was the disciplined one.”
He barks out a laugh. “Oh, is that what we’re measuring now?”
I shrug. “You didn’t just let her walk away, you sent her away. I wouldn’t have.”
“You think that was easy? She was in my lap, hands all over me. She wanted—” He cuts himself off, and rubs the back of his neck. “If I don’t get a job involving a significant amount of pain and bloodshed soon, I’m going to combust.”
“Wanna train with us today?” I ask innocently.
Cash blinks. “Really? And make it all worse? Pass.”
We both fall quiet at the sound of her steps on the stairs.
Her sleeves are bunched in her hands, her hair tousled with sleep. She hesitates for a second in the doorway, appearing unsure how to exist in the same room with us today.
“Hey, sweetie,” Cash greets her.
“Come on,” I murmur. “Let’s make breakfast.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.” She shakes her head, a dazed smile tugging at her lips.
The kitchen fills with familiar motion and we throw together a simple meal of eggs and toast. While I prep the food, Sara and Cash set the table. Their eyes catch and cling ever so briefly as if they exist in their own little bubble.
As we gather at the table, all sound vanishes at once. The mood shifts, the playfulness drains away, turning somber. It’s the opening I’ve been waiting for. “Are you looking forward to returning home?”
Cash shoots me a wide-eyed glare.
Sara’s leg starts to jitter under the table, her coffee trembling in its mug. She avoids looking at either of us.
He squeezes her leg. “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer.”
That earns him a glare from me, but I let it go. Her reaction tells me all I need to know.
◆◆◆
Cash will be out for the day, vague about where he’s going, which is usually a sign it’s dangerous or reckless, or both. His errand must be important if he’s willing to spend a whole day away from Sara. I don’t ask, he doesn’t say.
Before he leaves, he leans in, about to whisper to Sara, but then kisses her instead. It’s more than a quick brush of the lips. It’s deep and a little rough, and right in front of me.
She stiffens briefly, then melts into it.
I grin, although I’d much rather join in and kiss her neck from behind, letting my hands slide up and down her arms while Cash holds her face and keeps her mouth occupied.
Bastard. He knows exactly what thoughts are going through my head right now. He’s doing this on purpose.
When he finally pulls back, she’s breathless and pink cheeked, her lips slightly parted.
He looks at me and I’m torn out of my imagination. “Don’t break her,” he mutters and has the audacity to wink. Then he’s out the door, leaving her breathless and me lit up.
She glances at me with a glimmer that tells me we’re thinking the same thing.
“Training,” I say finally, before the air between us tilts any further.
The weather is good enough to train outside.
We stand in the clearing in front of the cabin and start stretching.
She doesn’t need instructions anymore to warm up.
It comes naturally. After a round of jumping jacks, she strides forward.
One foot strikes the ground, her hips sink low, both knees bending into clean, ninety-degree angles.
The trailing knee hovers an inch above the earth.
There’s almost no muscle trembling. She’s gotten so much stronger in the last couple of weeks, not only physically.
As if held by threads, she straightens her torso then rotates her shoulders over the lead leg, all while holding her balance perfectly.
A few seconds later, she pushes off her front heel and rises with a surge of power to meet the next stride.
“Are you okay with practicing holds?”
She ties her hair up, determined, accepting the challenge.
“All right, when anything gets too much, you tap out. Like this.” With the palm of my hand I tap her upper arm twice. She nods.
I don’t want to repeat yesterday. We start with stretching and practicing defensive stances. Instead of breaking out of holds, I show her how to do them herself. Where to hold and what to watch out for, how to use her weight for impact.
Only when I’m certain she’s ready, do I move behind her and twist her arm into a controlled hold, the same one I used outside the police station. I don’t go hard on her just yet. I want to ease her in. This is not a stress test, and it’s not supposed to feel like one.
“This is how I got you in the van. You remember?”
She stiffens. “Yeah. I remember.”
“Good. Wrist twist. Shoulder pressure. Break it.”
She tries.
I meet her with resistance without overwhelming her. I guide her body through the turn, slipping her elbow, and rotating her arm free.
It takes a few tries. Then she nails it.
Her eyes light up.
“You did it,” I say, letting the pride show.
“You let me.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I smirk.
We keep going. She practices slipping out of chokeholds until she’s comfortable with them, until I’m confident yesterday’s situation won’t repeat itself.
“Wanna try escape tactics mixed with a kid’s game?”
Sara stops moving and tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about hide-and-seek. You hide, I find you. Once I do, I’ll take you back to the cabin and you can try anything you want to prevent that.”
“So I get to hurt you without consequences?” she smirks.
“Oh, there’ll always be consequences.” The threat is playful and she smiles. “You get one minute. You run and you hide. If I need more than thirty minutes to find you, you win.”
“What do I get for winning?” Funny how she actually thinks she can beat me. “The last time you didn’t find me at all,” she gloats.
“Maybe I didn’t put in enough effort.”
She pouts and squeezes her eyes shut, but isn’t really insulted. “Go inside first, then I’ll run, no cheating,” she demands.
“You think you get to bargain when it’s serious?”
“Well, since this is training for you...” She crosses her arms, chin lifted.
I huff, my ego nagged by the memory of her neck-breaking escape and my own stupidity. Nothing like that will ever happen again. Of this, I am sure.
We stand there working out the rules for the chase game. Just another morning at the cabin.
She doesn’t move until I close the door behind me, so I don’t know which direction she’ll choose. I count down from sixty.
Back outside, there’s no trace of her. When she got away on that second day, there was no hint of her on the cameras along the path.
That’s the only way to come here by car.
Around the cabin, there’s surveillance. She knows that, so there’s no way she stayed around here.
I check the recordings, but they give nothing away.
She must have gone through the thicket. I stand in the middle of the clearing but hear nothing.
Dense forest. It’s where I’d go. She’s smart enough to think the same.
Every other minute I stop to listen closely, for footsteps, for her breathing, but it’s just the usual sounds: the faint lap of water against the lake’s shore, insects humming, the far-off pop of a pinecone hitting the ground.
I remember the stone she tossed to lead me off track and wonder if she’ll try the same trick again. It excites me that she makes me work for it.
“All right,” I murmur under my breath, “where did you go?”
I increase my speed, filtering out any sound or movement that doesn’t belong. I follow the pull. I’m getting closer.