“Whose was it then? Because I’m the only one here. Coulda done worse. Almost did.”
“But you didn’t. You didn’t do anything that won’t heal just fine. You think I don’t know the difference between a man hurting me for sport and one who was ninety percent unconscious at the time?”
She’s trying to make it okay, but her anger would be a blessing right now. He’s used to being punished and longs for that familiar territory in a way that makes him feel sick. He deserves retaliation more than ever, but that isn’t her, no matter how much he begs for it.
“You gotta tie me up tonight. This can’t happen again.”
She frowns. “I’m not tying you up.”
“If you don’t, I’ll hurt you again next time I have a nightmare. Could be so bad that—”
“You’re making this into something it wasn’t. I’m not upset about what happened. I’m not worried it’ll happen again, but if it does, then we’ll handle it. I know what I’m agreeing to here, okay?”
“Not a damn thing about this is okay.” He gets off the bed to plaster himself to the far wall, trying to keep from looking at her while she watches him as if she’d trust him with her life even now.
“I’m not tying you up. I refuse to treat you like a prisoner.”
“Then you can’t sleep in here anymore, or I need to sleep somewhere else. Let me scream alone. I’ll live.”
“You almost cracked your skull open on the side table last night. It’s not safe to be alone right now.”
“Well, I’m sure that would have woken me up,” he snaps back.
She sighs, only barely containing her frustration. “Will you come sit with me so we can talk about this?”
He hesitates, and she tries again.
“You’re awake now. It’s perfectly safe. Please.”
She makes a decent point, so he relents, sitting on the edge of the bed and running a hand over the dog’s head when he presses himself close. “He’s coming around, ain’t he? Doesn’t look so feral anymore.”
Gator is still young enough to adapt. A little food, a warm fire, and suddenly they’re a pack of three.
“He helped you last night,” she says. “Saw you were having a nightmare and licked your fingers. It worked. You went right back to sleep.”
“Coulda hurt the dog, too. We have to figure out how to make sure this doesn’t happen again. If you won’t tie me up, then what?”
“I don’t know yet, but we have all day to worry about that. If you still feel like we need to take more precautions tonight, then we’ll deal with it then.”
At least she’s not arguing, so he takes what he can get. “Okay.”
He rubs the dog’s velvet ears until she breaks the silence with a statement he wishes she didn’t need to say.
“It’s okay if this was too much,” she begins softly. “Too close. You can pull away a little if you need to. I’m not going anywhere, Wade. All we have is time now.”
Too close. Too much. He’s overwhelmed, and she knows it.
He has a weird thought, then. What if she doesn’t want him touching her anymore? Either because of what he’s done or because she thinks he’s past the point of needing to after last night. She should tell him to keep his hands to himself. It should be the last thing he’s concerned about, and yet, here he is, afraid she’ll throw up a barrier when he’s been trying to build another himself.
“Can I see?” He points to her battered wrist, testing her willingness for contact.
She holds it out for him, and he caresses a tender finger over the purple spots. Curves his hand around the evidence and strokes a feather-light thumb where he’d been so cruel.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
It’s not as difficult to touch her as it had been before. Something shorted inside his brain after the overload of contact, but he has a feeling this new gift is only one-sided. The moment he imagines her touching him, initiating it herself, he knows that won’t be anywhere near as simple. Isn’t sure how or if he shouldsay something about that. The rational thing would be to put an end to all these games they’ve been playing. He doesn’t need to touch anyone to survive in this world. It is not a requirement. He’s just as weak for her now as he’s ever been, though.
