Page 49

Wade’s not completely dense and wasn’t living under a rock before the turn. He knows what flirting looks like, just isn’t quite sure how to recognize it directed at him from Kara. Or, how to accept that it’s real. Especially how to deal with how it makes him feel.

His attraction to Kara was something that used to scare him before he learned to shove it deep down and ignore it.

He never felt this way before he met her.

Granted, they were teenagers, so there were a lot of feelings he’d never felt before her, but when she came along suddenly, he had all sorts of new, unfamiliar thoughts that never quite kicked in until then.

It was overwhelming and frightening. Took him a while to come to terms with it and long, long after that, to accept it.

He always assumed she didn’t feel that way about him.

If she did, he would know. If she did, he’d have made a move long ago, and they would have eloped on a whim and said their vows on a mountaintop somewhere, back before the world ended.

But she doesn’t. Or he assumed she didn’t.

What a shame that it took as long as it did for him to question if he was wrong.

Still, he’s skilled at ignoring his body’s reaction to her.

That’s a whole lot easier to do when they’re in normal, everyday situations instead of in bed together while he’s trying desperately to get his dick to calm down.

Now, it’s all brand new again. He can’t rationalize his heart anymore, and his body is betraying him.

He started a game of chess, expecting it to be like checkers, only to get checkmated.

He should say something.

Do something.

Fix this.

With his luck, he may only make it worse. So, he lies here helplessly, trying not to think about the musical lightness of her laugh or that beautiful, blinding smile he wants to see again and again.

He made that happen. In any other situation, he’d take it as a win, but this time there’s no denying just how far he’s failed. He stews in his own regrets and waits for the inevitable crash of the most important relationship of his life now that she’s seen what he’s been trying so hard to hide.

“Do you remember the first time we really spent the night together?” Kara says quietly, breaking the silence.

“They were fighting again. He was drunk…always. And you must have known how scared I was because you came to sit with me in bed and you didn’t leave the whole night.

You were the only reason I got any sleep. ”

He swallows hard, the memory of that time in their lives just barely below the surface. “I remember.”

“And now, all these years later, here we are in bed together again, and I nearly hurt myself laughing. Past me would have thought it impossible. I never, ever thought I could be this happy.”

She’s trying to ease his worries with the soft cadence of her voice, like she isn’t about to abandon this trailer to escape him. It’s working. “You’re happy?”

“I am. I know it’s hard to tell because my face doesn’t really do anything except frown and scowl, but I’m happier out here with you than I have been in so long. We’ve been through so much together, Wade. Nothing’s ever gonna ruin that. Never. Do you understand?”

She rolls her head to face him, and he forces himself to meet her stare, surprised by the affection he sees instead of the disgust he’d been expecting. He takes the out she’s offering with a reluctant nod.

“Good.” One corner of her mouth quirks up. “Besides, I am, too.”

“You are too…what?”

“You know.” She makes a vague gesture toward his crotch that’s finally begun to wilt under the blankets. “I mean, clearly it’s more difficult to tell in my case for obvious reasons, but…yeah. It happens.”

She absolutely can’t be saying what he thinks she’s saying.

He’s got to be staring at her like she’s grown three heads and an extra arm, because she huffs with an eyeroll, all sassy like they aren’t talking about such a sensitive topic that it could burn down this whole place and everything in it, including them.

“What? You don’t believe me? Want proof?”

How the fuck would he get proof? How does that work? He has half a mind to ask and take her up on this bold offer, but he holds his hands up instead in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Fuck. I get it.”

She laughs, clearly pleased at how flustered he’s gotten. “See what I did there? I made it so awkward that it circled back around until it’s normal again. You’re welcome.”

“That’s a skill.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“Where’d you learn that?”

“From you,” she deadpans.

He levels her with an unimpressed stare.

“No, really. You’ve always been an expert at making everything unbearably awkward. Can we go to sleep now?”

He huffs with a shake of his head. “Yes. Please.”

“Do you want to use a pillow between us?”

“Oh my god. Stop,” he groans.

“I just know how delicate your sensibilities are.” Her eyes glimmer with the satisfaction of roasting him.

“Keep going. I’ll take all the pillows and the blankets.”

“Okay, okay. Just checking. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

“Wade?”

“Hmm.”

“Sure you don’t need that pillow? For your own protection?”

“I swear, I’m ‘bout to go sleep in that other trailer with the newspapers piled up in the windows.”

She laughs for a good ten seconds until things feel normal again. He can breathe after she expertly kicked the giant boulder off his chest.

It’s easier than he expected to fall asleep, but his subconscious still grieves, showing him a reality he’ll never have. Her naked skin warm against his, her words crushing as they are coveted when she whispers, ‘I love you.’

His heart has been mended and broken tonight, all at the same time. He’s beginning to wonder if the only place he’ll have all of her is in his dreams.

* * *

Kara is driving the bike today. He suddenly understands why she likes to curl around him when she’s the one on the back.

He keeps a steady distance, only anchoring at her shoulder to help the overall balance. Busies himself with thoughts of the Arizona mountains they’re headed for instead of how close he is to what he wants.

They’re taking a straight shot this time, having decided to go there first and then swing back up into Utah and Colorado.

If all goes as planned, they’ll be hiking by tomorrow.

Had to veer further into the back roads after fallen trees and abandoned cars blocked their way, but they’ll get there, eventually. There is no rush anymore.

Their slow speed is ultimately what ends up saving their lives when they drive the bike into a taut wire strung between two trees.

They never see it coming until it’s too late.

The front tire hits the barrier, squealing against pavement and catapulting them into the air, only to crash hard and skid several feet across broken asphalt.

He’s disoriented, only vaguely aware of what’s happened.

There are a few inches of road rash on his arm where his shirt ripped away, but he’s otherwise unscathed except for the way his bones creak when he moves and the nightclub bass pumping through his skull that has him flashing back to his time in the cell.

His first logical thought isn’t for himself, though, but for Kara. He rolls onto his stomach to push clumsily up onto his knees and gasp her name before spotting her unconscious across the road with two men searching her pockets.

“Get the fuck away from her!” he yells, coughing out a mouthful of blood from a cracked back tooth he only now noticed. She’s hurt, unaware, and someone is touching her.

There’s a woman and a young boy he spots from the corner of his eye stripping the bike clean of any supplies where it lies on its side with the wheels still spinning, but he ain’t worried about them. The knife he grabs from its sheath is meant for the ones touching his girl.

“Leave her alone,” he growls again. “Kara? Dammit, get your fucking hands off—”

A booted foot catches him in the face before he can finish. The last thing he sees before he passes out is someone stripping the gray hoodie off Kara’s limp arms and yanking every last item they own from the storage container on the bike.

* * *

When Wade wakes again, it’s with a headache twice as bad as before. They’re alone, so at least there’s that.

Drunkenly, he stumbles over to Kara, worried as hell that she’s still out cold. Her clothes are where they should be. The hoodie is gone, but all the buttons and zippers are intact on her shirt and jeans. The rush of relief he gets from that is better than a shot of adrenaline.

He checks for a pulse, wincing at the blood coating her forehead and holding his breath until a strong thump meets his shaky fingertips.

“Kara?” he tries gently. “Come on, wake up. We gotta get out of here.”

No response.

He tries again, giving her a shake on the shoulder.

That’s when she wakes with a start and comes up fighting.

He only barely dodges a fist meant for his nose.

She struggles against him through all his useless reassurances spoken in a cracked voice meant to be soothing until her blown pupils finally focus on his face.

“I crashed it,” she says sadly, as if she’s committed a mortal sin. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

She’s halfway to crying already, and that’s worrisome on its own because Kara is an expert at bottling up her emotions. Frantically, her gaze darts between him and some far-off point beyond his shoulder, seeing a vision only visible to her.

“You didn’t crash it. We were attacked.” He worries she got hit in the head so badly that all her marbles were scrambled. “Do you know what year it is?”

She pauses before giving him a semi-annoyed glare. “Does anyone really know anymore?”

“Okay, good point.”

“What time is it? My father’s expecting me home before dark. Did the streetlights come on yet?”

His heart has never dropped so far into his feet so fast in all his life. “He’s gone, sweetheart. He has been for a long, long time.”