Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
She gapes at me. “Really? A hot bath would be heavenly. Even a lukewarm one. Anything, really, just to get clean.”
I imagine her undoing the flannel buttons one at a time, her eyes locked on mine as I watch her.
Fuck me. I just shut that line of thought down thirty seconds ago and it’s creeping back in. I force myself to look away from her and drink my water. When I finish and glance at her, she’s rubbing her temple, her expression one I know all too well.
I’ve seen teammates try to mask their pain to stay in games. Hell, I’ve done it myself. And that headache Trinity mentioned has to be a doozy from the look on her face.
“Hey, can I give you a little hockey player advice?” I say as I walk over to her.
Looking puzzled, she says, “Sure.”
“Dehydration is a major cause of headaches. Even if you think you’ve been drinking a lot of water, with all the walking we did, it might not be enough. Take some Tylenol and drink enough water that you have to pee every hour. It’ll help.”
She nods. “I will. And I’ll keep the fire going while you sleep. You haven’t gotten more than a couple of hours in a row since we got here because of the fire.”
“Thanks.”
I can’t manage more than that word because I’m so exhausted. My T-shirt is sweaty in places from my walk and I don’t have the energy to change from my jeans into the long underwear. Instead, I just pull my T-shirt off, drop it to the floor beside the bed and climb in, jeans and all.
I feel myself falling asleep within a minute.
When I wake up, my nose is cold but I’m warm from the neck down, buried in covers. I raise my head from the pillow a few inches and see Trinity curled up on the love seat, engrossed in a book. The fire is going strong and music is playing at a low volume.
It’s dark outside, but that doesn’t tell me much about the time here since it’s dark so much of the time.
When I sit up, Trinity looks over at me. “Hey. Feel better?”
I scrub a hand down my face, still groggy. “Yeah. How long did I sleep?”
She looks at the small clock on the fireplace mantel. “Ten hours.”
“Damn.” I get out of bed and grab my shirt from the floor. “How’s your headache?”
There’s a quick pause before she says, “It’s better.”
I can tell she’s bluffing, but there’s a glass of water on the little table beside the love seat, so at least she’s drinking water.
After I hit the outhouse, I drink some water myself. Our snow-supplied water is getting low. Probably time to get out one of the five-gallon jugs. I realized while I was walking that the smartest thing is to drink water from one of them and then refill it with melted snow. Then I won’t have to fill every pot, bowl and cup in the cabin.
My stomach growls and Trinity laughs lightly.
“I heard that all the way over here. Why don’t I make us some rice and we can eat an actual meal?”
“Yeah, I’m down for that. I’ll start filling the tub while you do that.”
Her smile lights up her entire face, making me feel like I just won a prize. I don’t know why I’m finding it so damn hard to turn off my attraction for her. Denying it may be impossible, but I won’t act on it.
“Thank you.” She gets up from the couch and limps to the storage room.
Even with the biggest pot the cabin’s kitchen has, it’s going to take me a long fucking time to fill up the tub. And then the snow has to melt, which will move faster if the heating element works.
Is this what the cabin’s owner does? I’m starting to think this cabin has never gotten much use. Maybe someone built it as an escape if the world goes to shit, and they’ve never actually had to fill this tub.
Trinity’s busy at the kitchen stove, my gaze wandering to her every time I bring in a pot of snow to dump in the tub. I catch a glimpse of her expression and sense again that something’s wrong.
She’s in more pain than she’s letting on, but I don’t know if it’s from her ankle or her headache.
“Hey, why don’t you sit back down and I’ll finish that?” I say.
She turns to look at me. “No, I’m okay.”
I should accept her answer and return to filling the tub, but I hate the thought of her hurting.
“It doesn’t bother me at all, you know. If I’m doing more than you are. You’ve got a jacked ankle and a headache.”
“I’m fine. Keeping busy helps me push past it. Just lying in bed all the time isn’t good for me.”