Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Then I looked up at the sky and my breath caught in my throat. It was dawn and through the gaps in the trees overhead, clouds like fluffy, soft-edged snowdrifts were lit up salmon pink, dusted with gold. I suddenly understood what all the fuss was about sunrises.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been woken by the sun. Or when night and day even had meaning in my life: until today, my phone had always blared me awake with music and I opened my eyes to a room made dark by blackout blinds, whether I was waking up for a day shift or a night one.
I was a little stiff from sleeping on the ground but surprisingly cozy, despite the fire having burned down to embers. In front of me, Rufus was still asleep, a furry croissant. And behind me—
My eyes widened in shock: Cal was pressed against my back. I could feel him all the way from shoulder to ankle, big and powerful and gloriously warm. His arm was around me protectively—or maybe possessively—wrapped a few inches below my breasts.
It felt really, really good.
And as I explored the feel of him behind me, I became aware of something else: his cock was hard in his jeans and the length of it was nestled right between my ass cheeks. I was self-consciously aware of how good that felt, too.
I carefully turned my head. He was still asleep, his face relaxed and strangely vulnerable. I twisted more and watched him sleeping. And the longer I watched, the more I became aware of how right this felt: him and me and Rufus, peaceful and secure. Even though I knew that was nuts.
A frown creased Cal’s brow. His arm tightened a little around me. I watched his eyes moving behind his closed lids. He’s dreaming. And not a good dream. As the minutes passed, his breathing came faster and faster, building to a peak. Should I wake him? Before I could, his whole body tensed—
His eyes opened and the raw horror there was like nothing I’d ever seen. He was still half in the dream, staring at whatever haunted him, and it was beyond terrifying. His face went dead-white, his skin clammy.
I slid a hand through his tousled, gold hair, and said. “Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
He blinked at me and for just a second, he was open and unshielded. And I saw again the pain he was in, every day of his life.
Then he came fully awake and in a heartbeat, he was his gruff, stoic self. He realized where his arm was and pulled it back, so quickly that his hand brushed against my left breast: a brief, scalding contact we both felt. He jumped up as if trying to put as much distance between us as possible. “Sorry. Must have—”
“It’s okay—” I started.
“—In my sleep—” He wouldn’t look at me.
“Really, it’s okay.” I jumped to my feet. “Seemed like you were having a nightmare.”
He met my eyes for a split second. Then he looked away and gave a quick shake of his head. Subject closed.
Rufus opened one eye to see what all the noise was, then reluctantly unwound himself and got up. He stretched, then shook himself and glared at both of us reproachfully. I ruffled the fur on his head and watched Cal as he stuffed the blanket viciously into his backpack and kicked soil over the embers of the fire.
We started walking and immediately, I was grateful for the makeshift shoes. I still had to be careful not to step on any sharp rocks but I was no longer wincing at every stone and twig, and my feet were dry and warm.
I noticed how silently Cal moved, slipping through the landscape like a panther, like he was part of it. Rufus was the same, trotting between us and bounding over tree trunks and branches without a sound. I felt clumsy by comparison: wherever I stepped, something cracked or rustled. And every noise was magnified because it was so quiet. I hadn’t realized how loud the city was until I left it.
I still couldn’t get over how isolated we were. It wasn’t just that we hadn’t seen another person, we hadn’t seen any signs of civilization: not a power line or a fence or a plane overhead. It was eerie. Why would anyone choose to live all the way out here?
As we climbed a hill covered in thick, waist-high bushes, I blurted, “What were you doing in Seattle?”
Cal looked around at me, his face unreadable.
“I mean, it’s a long drive, from all the way out here. If you just needed a city, Boise is way closer. So it must be something specific you could only do in Seattle. I was just wondering what it was.”
He held my gaze for a long time, then turned to face front. “Personal errand.” He closed his eyes for a second and something flashed across his face before he could control it: terrible, bitter loss.