Page 67 of His to Burn

And just that quickly, I felt not only like a jerk but a liar.

What I said was true, but not the wholetruth, a truth I didn’t want to acknowledge. Because what could I say?

That I was worried about her? Afraid of all of the horrors that might be out there?

No. That wasn’t an option, so I decided my best bet was to stop the freaking bleeding and say nothing.

The silence was thick for a moment but not entirely tense. Then Asia smiled, and it felt like all was right with the world.

“Your lecture is over, right?” she said, that playful tone I grew to love back.

“For the moment,” I responded.

“Good. Because you look like hell. Go shower, and I’ll make some food. Then you need to sleep,” she said.

“Not mincing words, Counselor?” I asked.

“We’re clearly beyond that,” she replied.

“Guess so,” I said, and as I stood there, the adrenaline drop hit me hard.

“This place is locked up tight, right?” I asked, even though I checked all the entrances and windows while she was in the shower.

“Yes, and the mechanical shutters are down, so no one should be able to see inside,” she said.

I’d seen the same, but was glad she confirmed it. “Good. You remember how to use that, right?” I asked.

She still had the gun on her, but it was no longer in her waistband. Instead, she found a holster upstairs—one that looked so out of place with her yoga pants and oversize concert T-shirt.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Good. Can you handle things here while I get a few hours of sleep?”

“I can. Go sleep, Jackson,” she said.

“Thanks,” I whispered as I drifted to the bedroom in the basement. I was still wired, amped up on adrenaline and the unknown.

But I knew I’d have no trouble falling asleep.

Something I could thank the military for.

I always knew the next comfortable place to rest was never a given, and all things considered, the judge’s basement was basically a palace. There was a giant, comfortable-looking bed, but I decided against taking it and instead unrolled one of the incredibly expensive sleeping bags I found in the attic.

I couldn’t let myself get comfortable here.

Couldn’t let myself get comfortable anywhere.

At least not until I got back to Evan.

So I fell into a sleep that was somewhat fitful, but still rejuvenating.

A grumble in my stomach woke me.

I came awake instantly, and just as quickly, the memory of what happened and of what was still happening came flooding in.

I stood up, stretched—no worse for wear—and looked at my watch.

Five hours.