Page 39 of Recipe for a Curse
Zach took a hold of my hands and squeezed them. “Breathe, Montana. It will be okay.”
“But he’s out there, with nowhere to go and no food. With a storm coming.”
“He’s not stupid. He’ll come back.”
I shook my head thinking of the nightmare I’d woken him from. He’d been so afraid he’d hurt me. Had that driven him away? “It’s all my fault.”
“It’s not,” Zach said. He let me go and patted my back. “Focus on the food. I’ll keep an eye out for Rio. I think we just need to be patient.”
“He had a nightmare last night,” I confessed. “I tried to wake him…”
“Did he hurt you?” Zach asked, looking concerned. Why was everyone so certain Rio would hurt me?
“No. Of course he didn’t. It was a PTSD thing. Hard to wake him completely. I’m fine. Though I think it freaked him out a little.” I tried not to be annoyed with my boss. I’d never had a boss who cared at all before, and Zach sort of obsessed over the health and welfare of his employees.
Zach nodded. “Okay. I’ll keep an eye out for him. It’s probably just a stress response.”
“What if he doesn’t come back before the storm?”
“I’ll check at his place, see if he’s been back there.”
“Thank you,” I said, a little relieved, though certain that Rio wouldn’t return to the trailer. “Maybe we can track the sled?”
“I did. But once I hit the trees, the ice must have made it slide because the tracks vanished.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Montana. I wish there was more I could do. Let me make sure the house is prepped for the storm, then I’ll run over to his place and see if he’s there.”
“I understand.” Even if it didn’t stop me from being both heartbroken and terrified for him. “He left to keep me safe.”
“Probably,” Zach agreed.
“Maybe you can tell me why he’s so worried?” I prodded.
“It’s complicated.” He stared at me for a minute. “Not sure you’d believe it anyway.”
“I’m not sure what I believe anymore. He acts like he’s really cursed. But while PTSD is bad, it’s not a curse. Just an illness.”
“I think the PTSD is only part of the problem,” Zach said. “Maybe think of it as a curse? Something therapy and medicine can’t control. Something that will never go away, but needs to be managed.”
“But curses can be broken,” I pointed out. “At least it’s that way in the books.”
“Not all curses can be broken.”
“Then I can help him manage it.”
“Once we get him back, sure.” Zach headed for the mudroom to tug on all his cold gear. “It’s the curse that makes him hungry. The hunger can make him dangerous, uncontrollable.”
“You all act like he’s going to become some raging beast,” I protested.
“It might be better if you think of him that way. Hungry equals danger.”
“I’ve been feeding him,” I said softly, wondering if I should have done more.
“And he was managing well.”
“But he still left.”
“We’ll work on that.” Zach, clad in all his gear, headed for the door. “Keep the coffee going, and food on the warmer.”
I nodded, though I would have done that anyway. All I could do was pray that Zach found Rio before the storm got too terrible. And I kept replaying last night in my mind. His nightmare, the awakening, and his agitation. How did I fix any of that?