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Alina moans, scrunching into a tighter ball as she shakes her head no without lifting her head from my chest.
Chuckling, I try again, shaking her softly this time. “We should get going now that we have the light.”
Cracking an eyelid, Alina scans the mouth of the cave. “Alright,” she murmurs, seeming to recall where we are and why we need to get up.
She slowly unwinds herself from the curled position she slept in all night, and when she stands, I can tell she’s stiff—feeling the aftermath of the car crash, no doubt. I’m not much better. As Alina finds her high heels and slips them back on, I rise and bite back a groan.
Ribs throbbing, I focus on tamping the last of the embers I let die down in preparation for our departure.
“Ready?” I ask as she huddles inside my suit jacket.
“Yep.” Alina follows me from the cave without another word.
We head east, following the curving road above us. The sloping hillside has to flatten out eventually, and once it’s reasonable enough to climb, we can get back onto the asphalt and try to hitch a ride home.
“Do you know how far we are from Boston?”
Once again, she’s right on the same wavelength as me. “Maybe forty or fifty miles.”
I glance toward her as she walks beside me, her steps tender and uneven, but she keeps pace. Her face pales at the number, though, making the Band-Aid stand out against her skin.
“We won’t have to walk the whole way. As soon as we get to the road, we can hitchhike. Worse comes to worst, we’ll stop in the next town and call a ride.”
Alina nods. But she doesn’t ask how far to the next town, and I don’t want to guess because I suspect that alone could be a good five to ten miles.
We fall into silence as we walk, and slowly, the sun climbs into the sky, warming the air and casting a falsely cheery light on our situation. With one eye on Alina, I focus on getting us home.
She’s impressive—hiking for miles beside me without complaint while wearing shoes that hinder her almost more than they protect her feet. Still, she keeps trudging on, her lips set in grim determination. She’s stoic for a girl who’s led a cushy life, and I respect her all the more for it.
And yet, that doesn’t make my heart bleed for her any less. I would like nothing more than to scoop her into my arms and carry her because I can see her discomfort. It’s written plainly enough across her dirt-and blood-flecked face. Each step she takes is stiff and painful.
But last night is the one transgression I can allow myself. Because I’m agonizingly aware of how her proximity makes my mission that much harder to want to carry out. I can’t allow myself to touch Alina because I’m dangerously close to wanting her. And the more I want her, the less I want to hurt her in any way.
She’ll hate me once all the dust settles, I’m sure.
So it’s best if I stay away from her until that time comes.
Air hisses between Alina’s teeth as she stumbles, and her hand goes down to her ankle. And just like that, my resolve crumbles. I’m at her side in a flash, offering my palm to help steady her.
“Did you twist it?”
“No.” She grits her teeth. “Just a stupid blister that popped. I’m fine. Really.” Straightening, she gives me a strained smile. “Give me something to think about while we walk?”
Sorely tempted to pick her back up, I study her for a second, then give a curt nod. “Tell me about your family,” I suggest, shoving my hands into my pockets to stop myself from touching her unnecessarily.
“I suppose that’s only fair, seeing as you told me some about yours.” Releasing my hand, Alina limps a few steps then seems to settle into the fresh level of discomfort. “I imagine you know the basics by now. I live with my parents, who are still ridiculously in love. And I have one older brother. We’re all pretty close, as far as families go. We still have brunch together every Saturday. Viktor loves giving me a hard time, as you’ve probably gathered, and he and my father are ridiculously overprotective.”
She smiles, the pain washing from her face at the genuine love that replaces it. “I remember when I first learned how to ride a bike. My parents took me and Viktor to Deer Island. My father, of course, ran beside me probably fifty times trying to get me to look up and pedal. But every time he let go, it was like the ground just pulled me straight to it.”
She giggles, shaking her head at the memory. “But I was determined to learn it. Viktor was always showing off, see, riding circles around me and taking his hands off the handlebars just to show me he was better than me. I couldn’t stand that he was so good at something I didn’t know how to do.”
A chuckle rumbles up from deep inside my belly at the thought of young Alina learning how to ride a bike just so she could prove her brother wrong. Somehow, that sounds so perfectly in line with the fiery young woman I’m getting to know.
“Anyway, I finally got the hang of it, and Viktor took me on a loop around the park. Then, some skateboarder came flying down the path going the opposite direction. He came straight at me, and of course, I panicked and lost control of my bike, jerked my handlebars too hard and went headfirst over them into a bush.”
I cringe, my shoulders bunching as I feel that pain of getting launched like that.
“Just like that, Viktor went from my pain-in-the-butt older brother to my avenging angel. He rode the guy down, shoved him off his skateboard, and dragged him back to make him apologize.” Alina’s smile is radiant now, her limp noticeably less prominent as her affection for her brother overcomes her physical discomfort.
