Page 12 of Wild Life (STEAM-y #2)

Safe and Sound

Maris

“I don’t want to be alone.”

There, I had admitted it. Not just in my head, but aloud. For another person to hear.

The words were out there, and I couldn’t take them back. I had carried them inside for so long that they had fused with my consciousness—my soul. Where they had once rested now lay a jagged wound. The admission had been painful, yet this secret had weighed me down for too long.

However, more painful than saying it aloud was waiting for his response. His stare burned my vulnerable skin, exposing more of me.

Steadily, he peeled back the thin sheet, revealing the vacant spot next to him. Enough space to alleviate my aching loneliness. It was dark, but I could make out the fabric of the covers bunched low on his waist, revealing his naked side. I visibly traced the outline of his hip, down to the side of his solid bare glute.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest matched my own, steady and incessant.

He reached out and caught my hand in his, his thumb stroking my knuckles. So warm, so inviting.

How easy it would be to slide in next to him. To curl into his side and seek the comfort I longed for. The kind I was addicted to. I could use him to meet my needs. His face was better looking than that of any man I had ever been with, and his body was that of a god.

Yes, I certainly could spend the night with him—trade sex for comfort. Except, what would happen tomorrow morning?

The same thing that always happened…I’d wake up and glimpse last night’s living security blanket from the corner of my eye while I awkwardly tried to avoid conversation as I hurried out of bed. Then, the minute he left, my old pals Guilt and Self-loathing would suffocate me, and I would be reminded of why I needed an occupied bed in the first place. The cycle would continue like a pitiful hamster wheel, never really addressing any of the underlying anxiety and sadness I had been carrying for decades.

God, what is wrong with me? I’m so desperate for affection that I’m considering hopping into bed with a stranger.

This island was getting to me, and this man clouded my judgment. I needed to get home and focus on myself, once and for all. I needed to find the beach.

I jerked my hand back, clumsily retracting and waking a shrieking pig in my escape.

I ran.

I ran as fast as I could out the door and away without granting him another glance.

I ran like I always did. This time, it was to protect my sanity.

Rain pelted my face, and my feet splashed and sloshed in trenches of mud. My heart pounded in my throat. My vision was marred by the storm. Branches lashed my skin, stinging on contact.

Still, I didn’t slow down. I wasn’t stopping until I found the beach…until someone came to rescue me. This wasn’t my home, and somehow, I had begun to think this life was normal.

My foot stalled on something hard, and I lurched forward, slamming to the wet earth. My eyes were heavy from tears, so tired that they drooped.

I heard my name in the distance. Thick and deep, echoing through the jungle. The voice soothed me, promising me protection.

My body shifted, and suddenly, I was cocooned in a blanket of warmth. It was as if I was floating midair, completely weightless yet still moving. Flying. My head rested against something firm, the perfect amount of support I needed, physically and emotionally.

My lids squeezed tightly, shutting out everything around me, because I was protected. The voice murmuring my name against the top of my head would make sure I was safe.