Perhaps, some reason for his reluctance to give up on pursuing her has to do with the fact that she entertained his flirtations at first. When she was fresh off the end of the world, convinced that she might not see the next sunrise, and mourning the loss of Wade, it had been easier to search for some sort of comfort, however she could get it. Now, even after all this time, he holds out hope that she’ll come around again.
She nods, relieved that she won’t be alone in this venture that feels like a monumental task. Has her doubts that Luke has truly accepted what she’s been trying to tell him for so long, though. They’ve had versions of this conversation before, butthat’s something to worry about another time. She has more than enough to deal with already.
Kara’s had only one purpose, to find Wade. Now that he’s back, she still only has one. To find him again.
* * *
She showers for the first time in what feels like forever. Scrubs the dirt off her skin and wishes she could do the same for Wade, who’s got her beat by layers. Leaving him for even this short task is risky, but she won’t have the chance to get this clean at the blue house. She can bring in water from the river, but it’s not the same, and she sighs heavily, enjoying the spray before reluctantly turning it off.
Hardly recognizes herself after wiping the fog off the mirror. Is this why he doesn’t either, she wonders.
Her dark hair is longer than the last time he saw her. It hits well below the shoulders, tied back in a loose braid. The scar above her eye from the tree branch she ran into one night in the woods stares back as another defect. She didn’t even earn that by doing something worth talking about. It was only a stupid mistake that left a mark.
She’d take scissors to her hair this instant if that was enough to break the spell, but suspects it’s not so simple, just like every other decision that plagues her.
She’s in a position to make life-altering choices for a man who’s always been so fiercely independent, and that’s shaken her to the core. She can hardly make those choices for herself half the time. How can she be expected to choose what’s best for anyone else?
If they go today, is it too soon? If she waits, will he continue to spiral downhill?
He won’t walk out on his own, that much is clear. She hesitates to have him carried out fighting on only the first day. Maybe he can still come around here, she hopes, pulling on fresh clothes and making her way back to his room.
His breathing is more even today, pupils slowly returning to normal. It gives her hope that the drugs are leaving his system and things might shift in a better direction soon.
Then someone drops a tray outside the door and Wade nearly climbs the wall at the sharp clatter. Yanks at the boards on the window, clawing frantically while trying to escape until there’s a trail of blood from his torn nails across the wood. Eventually, he slides down the wall again, heaving and panting while she watches with her hand over her mouth, trying to hold in her sob so it doesn’t distress him.
Fuck this. Not one more day.
She waits until he’s quiet again and slips out the door to make arrangements. When the time comes, an hour later, it is just as awful as she feared it would be. Kara isn’t strong enough to be the only one needed, and it takes two other men to subdue him enough to be loaded into a wagon. At least they put some pants on him before this ordeal.
He fights at first, but then that glazed-over look takes the place of his aggression and he goes limp. Doesn’t make a sound after that. Lies in the back of the wagon with the blanket she wrapped him in and suffers every bump in the road to their destination.
She’s with him, but doesn’t touch. The desire to reach out is nearly an entity of its own, yet she won’t take that without permission. Especially when it won’t bring him any comfort. Thankfully, the ride is short. The house is just how she left it years ago. Another layer of dust coats every surface, but it’s quiet and calm. Still has two perfectly good bedrooms, and she has them move Wade into the one with the softest mattress.
“There’s nothing blocking the windows. Want us to board them?” Luke asks from the doorway.
They move out into the hall where she crosses her arms and counts the seconds before this conversation is over. “This isn’t a prison. I can’t lock him up like that. The windows will be fine.”
He raises a brow. “You’re out here alone now. If he escapes—”
“We’ll figure it out. We’ll be okay. Really.”
If he escapes, she’ll just follow him and keep following him until eventually, he stops again.
Luke only nods, pointing to the box of food and supplies left on the dining room table. “Should last you about two weeks.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you ever have come back for more than trading? If he didn’t show up?” he asks, pausing at the door.
She only shakes her head in a clearno.
“Good luck.”
It’s a skeptical comment, and she hates how easily it feeds her doubt. Maybe he’s right, and she’s even crazier than before. Being here alone with Wade is like locking herself in the lion’s den. She isn’t blind to the fact that he’s dangerous. Hasn’t romanticized their relationship to a point where she assumes their bond will protect her. He’s already shown her it won’t when he pinned her to the ground the other day in his delirium.
She’s not a quitter, though, and he is all that matters to her now.
There are no children screaming or bands playing, and once Luke is gone, it’s serene and quiet. A few birds chirp outside and the incoming storm promises the tranquil sound of raindrops.
