Page 13

“I need to wash up. River didn’t get everything.” It’s a soft-spoken request from Wade coupled with that nervous lip bite.

Kara hasn’t seen that tick much since they first met, when he was a shy and soft-spoken. Long before he turned into the larger-than-life personality she knows so well and longs to see again.

Getting rid of as much physical evidence as possible is a first step in healing from what’s happened to him, and she’s only too eager to help. The problem is, they have no running water. Only what comes from the river. There’s no hope for a shower or even a hot bath.

She’d be willing to carry up as many buckets as needed to fill the tub, but that may only make him feel guilty for letting her do all the work. They’re riding a line here. She has to be conscious of his reactions to her help.

“I can fill a bucket and heat it with water from the stove?”

“Don’t need it heated. A towel and some cold water is fine.”

“It doesn’t take much to put a kettle on the stove.”

Reluctantly, he nods, and she’s so damn glad to have something tangible to do.

Kara’s good at tasks. It’s the idle moments that leave her flustered.

She hates leaving him, even for a good cause. His brow creases and fingers fidget at the edge of the blanket as she heads for the door, betraying how much he wants her to stay, but he says nothing.

She needs to start putting traps around the fence again, she thinks, grabbing a bucket from the porch.

Wouldn’t take much to get a pile-up of rotters out here should they start clustering at the gate.

The river is close and flows fast enough to be relatively clean.

It doesn’t take long to fill and make her way back, scooping some into a tea kettle to heat on the stove before depositing the rest beside the tub.

She leaves the whistle cap off the kettle. That kind of wailing would only set them both on edge.

“Just a few minutes, then it’s all yours,” she tells him, unsurprised that he hasn’t moved much.

He’s only left the bed once. It’s still better than nothing. She tries to count every small victory as major progress.

He found comfort in the flowers she’s brought him and wears her hair tie around his wrist. He’s eaten enough to chase off the glazed-over effect of prolonged hunger she’s seen in his eyes.

Little by little, he’s starting to look like the man she remembers as those protective layers begin to peel back.

The fact that he’s still unable to look her in the eye for longer than a moment is what bothers her most now.

She doesn’t know how to make him understand that he’s got nothing to be ashamed of, but she’d better figure it out fast because they only have two weeks before he’ll attempt to leave her again.

Kara isn’t the only one who’s stubborn here.

This misguided attempt to protect her only sounds like an extension of the nightmare she thought was over.

They’ll butt heads over what’s safe and what’s not if it comes to that.

Things will get better before then, though.

They have to. She gives herself no other option while having no game plan or solid experience in how to proceed, so out of her depth that it’s a miracle they’ve made it this far.

Does she give him some space now? Is she hovering again? She stands in the middle of the room, uncertain of what to say or do before deciding she may as well just ask him. If he tells her to leave, at least she’ll know for certain what he wants.

“I was going to read for a while,” she says, awkwardly. “I can do that here, or give you some time alone?”

She may as well have suggested she leave the house entirely for how quickly his attention shoots up. “Here. Here is good. If you want.”

She offers him a half-smile, intending to grab a book off the shelf and see if he’d like one too while the water heats, when a sharp knock at the door startles them both.

Things have slowly simmered down from high-voltage stress to something manageable, but that flies out the window at the promise of visitors.

Her pulse skyrockets, not because she’s afraid of who it could be, but because she’s afraid of what this might do to Wade.

He’s off the bed faster than she’s seen him move yet, rushing to the window that shows nothing useful before pacing the length of the room, looking for a weapon.

He opens the drawers and checks under the mattress, almost tearing the room apart before she has time to process what’s happening.

“It’s them,” he growls. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. You can’t stay here, you gotta go. You gotta hide. If they get you, too…you have a gun? Shotgun? Something?”

He looks on the verge of a heart attack before shoving himself in front of the door, waiting for an intruder to blow through it.

Her mind races, and for a moment, she worries it actually could be Silas and his men before logic takes over. “Wade, it’s not them. It can’t be. Lemme check, okay?”

“You can’t go out there,” he whispers, like it’s the most insane suggestion. “Won’t let them take you, too.”

“No one’s taking me anywhere.”

A second knock comes again, prompting him to eye the knife on her hip, ready to grab it and fend off their would-be attackers.

There’s a sway to his stance, leaning forward and then back the barest bit, only perceptible because she sees everything when it comes to him. It betrays how badly he wants to run instead of staying to fight, but he stays for her, assuming Silas would take them both.

If he were alone, she has no doubt that he’d have escaped out the window again only seconds after the first knock.

“Listen to me. It’s not them.”

“Please don’t. Don’t go out there. Just run. I can’t keep you safe from them. Couldn’t even keep myself safe. You don’t understand what they do, ” he pleads, in a near whisper, breaking her heart with how convinced he is that she’s about to be snatched away.

She cracks the bedroom door against his protests, peeks around the corner, and spots a familiar head above the half-curtained window. The only one tall enough to reach.

“It’s Adam,” she sighs in relief. “Wade, it’s just Adam. I know him. He’s from the place we just left.”

He’s unconvinced, but some part of him must believe her because he doubles over, bracing his hands on his knees before straightening up. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m gonna see what he wants. I’ll be right back. It’s alright, I promise it is. He’s probably just checking to make sure we don’t need anything.”

Fuck, the last thing she needs right now is another visit. Leaving Wade like this, wound up again after she’d just gotten him calm, has frayed her nerves and encouraged built-up anger to bubble to the surface.

How many times did she tell Luke she doesn’t want to be bothered?

How many times did she explicitly say no visitors?

Too many, and yet here they are with someone on their porch, anyway.

She’s vibrating with rage by the time she reaches the front door and Adam is the unfortunate recipient of that anger.

“Oh no. I told him this was a bad idea,” Adam says, instantly noticing her scowl.

She slips out the door, closing it behind her and hoping that Wade isn’t ten times worse when she goes back in. “Luke sent you?”

“Yeah. I told him that—”

“These visits won’t help. They make it worse. What is he thinking?”

“I’m sorry. He insisted we make sure you’re still alive.”

She scoffs. “Of course I’m alive. It’s not how he thinks. It’s not…fuck . Things were getting better, and now it’s all…I told him not to send anyone. More than once.”

“I know, I know. I tried.”

Her requests have been completely ignored. She’s an adult who can make her own choices and she chose to be here in this house with Wade. Chose to take on that risk, knowing full well what she’s gotten into and doesn’t need anyone checking up on her after demanding privacy.

This is part of the reason she left for the woods when she did. Could have searched for Wade with this house as her home base, but she was never given peace. It was easier to flee to some unspecified spot and fend off the rotters when needed than answer her door all the time.

“You know what?” she says calmly.

Adam hesitates as if it’s a trick question. “What?”

“Can you give him a message for me?”

“Sure.”

“Good.”

There’s a pile of firewood on the porch, and she grabs a long piece, hefting it in her grip before aiming for the converted car wagon just outside her gate.

Horses stand patiently attached to the front with two Paradise Falls men waiting inside. That irritates her even further because she knows they’re here to subdue Wade if needed, possibly kill him if he’s already killed her.

Somewhere in the distance, Adam mutters an ‘ aw shit’ right before the first taillight on the old Chevy shatters under the force of her hit. It spooks the horses, but only a little. They’ve seen and heard worse.

The second taillight is tougher, refuses to crack, and that’s like fuel to an already raging fire. All her aggression and worry funnels into each strike. Only half of her reaction is even about the visit anymore, the rest is buried frustration that she’s often kept a lid on.

All those sleepless nights she spent wondering if Wade was dead break the padlock on her self-control.

Every man who worked for Silas who laughed in her face before she put a bullet or an arrow through their head.

Every time she imagined the horror of what could be happening to Wade and then finding out she’d been right all along…

.that he really was being tortured and there wasn’t a fucking thing she could do about it.

It all flashes in her mind like a horror show.

Her emotions cluster in a tornado aimed at the back of the car until she’s out of breath with a pile of glass and plastic at her feet.

No one stops her. Not even the men in the wagon who came armed enough to do it.