Her brow raises, tone sassy. “Oh, is that how this works?”
“Yep. You’re good at taming strays.”
“One of my many skills. Good thing I don’twantto shake him.”
Things are so much lighter this morning than they were the night before, and not all of that is because of the dog. Her smile is quicker, and any trace of the woman who busted out two taillights in a fit of rage is long gone. For now.
He may not have the will to try harder for himself, but he has all the desire in the world to keep her this happy.
Chapter 9
Bright light bothers him. Kara keeps the bedroom windows covered except for a small gap in the curtains, but the rest of the house is brighter.
Light streams in from the top of the front door and over the half curtains above the kitchen sink. In the middle of the day, it’s as if there’s no cover at all. She suspects prying eyes from unexpected visitors aren’t the only thing keeping him in the bedroom. It’s the light.
She doesn’t know the details of where Wade was held captive. Small, dark places seem the obvious answer. How he shoved himself between the bed and table when he felt afraid tells her all she needs to know about what he’s grown used to.
This realization is welcome because it’s something she can fix. Kara grabs a few throw blankets, doubling up the thin curtains and covering blank spots above them. If he needs it dark, that’s fine by her.
The bedroom door is open, and she hopes he’ll have noticed the dimming of light streaming in from the hall while she busies herself making food. That’s become a nervous habit. All she wants is to feed him. Now that he’s finally eating, she’s overeager to shove more his way. There’s still a gauntness to his face that reminds her that a few meals aren’t enough to reverse years of hunger.
She left him watching for the dog while she works on a late lunch, telling him to come find her in the kitchen when he’s ready. She breaks up the noodle package of ramen by smashing a cup against it and heats up water on the stove for soup.
“You don’t like the noodles long?”
Wade stands tentatively at the door, shifting his weight while she tries to filter her smile into something that won’t make him uncomfortable. He’s made so much progress so quickly, but he wouldn’t see it that way. Sometimes, she catches herself looking at him as if she’s trying to see the bold, energetic man she used to know, and has to force that look off her face or risk making him feel anything other than how grateful she is to have any version of him at all.
“No. I always crunch them up,” she replies while he moves further into the room.
“Need help making anything?”
She shakes her head. “Almost done. Have a seat.”
He follows her suggestion, already so tense she can feel it five feet away. The blanket of awkwardness around them has only slightly eased since his arrival.
It’s entirely possible that it’s not only Wade’s imprisonment and years of space that have them stuck in a weird phase. Things were different between them before the world spiraled down the drain. They often went months without speaking, separated by several states’ worth of distance after the army moved him to the next middle of nowhere. She never intended to make it a career, but he seemed content to stay enlisted.
‘Just come with me,’ he said. ‘We can go swimming in the Ozarks on my off days.’
She rolled her eyes, her tone a mixture of teasing hope and sarcasm. ‘Play house in no name Arkansas together?’
‘Sure, why not?’
The thing about her relationship with Wade is that after all this time, they have never overtly crossed that line in the sand that could transform their friendship into something more. They have teased the line, joked about the line, flirted with it, and made long-term life plans about growing old together. They nearly made out while drunk more often than she can count, always stopping at the last second, but that is the extent of their progress.
It never used to bother her. At least, until those last few years, when she came to terms with her feelings for him. Then, all it did was bother her, and all she needed was to put space between them to protect her heart from the one man she could never have.
Kara has lived her life ready to run, consumed by a need to escape so she wouldn’t suffer another loss. Running from Wade came easily. Then the dead started walking the earth, and it wasn’t until she lost him for real that her purpose shifted.
Everything in her life now is separated into compartments labeledBefore Wade was taken and After.
She’s tried to forget those days before all hell broke loose. Could she have saved him if she had made different choices that day? That question has weighed heavily for years. Even with him back again, her guilt remains unspoken and haunting.
It would seem they still have plenty of layers between them left to un-fuck.
He leans away automatically when she moves in to fill his bowl and she ignores it, relieved when he settles again as she joins him.
“What have you been doing other than looking for me?” he asks suddenly.
