“What you did?” he asked.
“We didn’t have a good goodbye. Fragments of the last night are coming back to me. We argued.”
His pulse pounded in his throat. “Did you follow her? Do you know what happened?”
She shook her head. “I put on my CD player and slept through the night. A good twin would have chased after her sister.”
He let her pause, searching the silence on her own. Pushing her would only shove her away. As the beat stretched, he decided to go a different tactic to help, even if he worried it would only hurt him in the long run. “I don’t know that I’ve moved forward either. At least not in my personal life.”
“You haven’t?” she asked, her voice soft and tender.
“When you meet the right person, it’s hard to spare a glance for the wrong ones,” he murmured.
She approached him then, cautious as a rabbit hopping across an open field.
He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until she sat next to him, her side pressing against his. He exhaled a heavy sigh as she leaned into him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“I want to come home.”
“I want that too,” he murmured.
“How?” she asked.
He had no answer. He wouldn’t sway her to do what he wanted. She had needs he couldn’t fathom. “I don’t know. I’ll be here though.”
She shuddered. “I need to get some sleep.”
“Good night,” he murmured, fighting the urge to lean over and press a soft kiss to her head.
As she stood, he kept still. He’d stay by the fire as he promised but was in no rush for bed. Not with someone after them. He’d be on watch forever if necessary to keep her safe.
Thirteen
Emma wasn’t sure how she managed to sleep after the stressful day. But she had. Because one moment, she was arguing with someone about fixing a leak in her nonexistent basement, the frustration of getting nowhere fueling her ire, and the next, she stared up at the ceiling of a faded red pop-up tent, her neck stiff and her back aching.
On the sleeping bag next to her, Margaux snored. The nasally breathing was inconsistent in frequency and pitch. Part whistle part whine, Emma cringed at the noise.
Emma must have been exhausted to have slept through that. And one glance at the empty spot where Christine’s sleeping bag had been confirmed it. Somehow, she hadn’t heard her friend leave the camp earlier this morning either.
Still fully dressed, Emma slipped out from her sleeping bag, unzipped the flap, and let herself outside into the chilly morning air. Overhead, the sky had already brightened somewhat but struggled to reach full strength. In a few more weeks, she wouldn’t be able to sleep in past 5:30 in the morning. As the sun rose earlier and earlier in the season, so did she. Emma hated waking up at seven only to feel as if she’d missed half the day with the sun so high in the bright blue sky.
But today the sun wasn’t bright. There was an overcast haze, although no looming threat of rain. Anticipation was often times worse than the actual situation. How appropriate for their day.
Seated on the same log as last night, Daniel stared at something in his hands. He’d started another fire.
The curling wisps of smoke weren’t as strong as last night’s blaze. But she’d be glad for anything to help stave off the chill in the damp morning air. She rubbed her hands together and neared. “Good morning.”
He lifted his gaze. For a second, he looked uncertain. “Good morning,” came his rough, grumbly greeting.
There was something intimate at hearing someone’s voice in the morning before they’d warmed up their vocal chords. She longed to have the sort of connection of being his first hello every day.
He cleared his throat. “Did you sleep well?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. She supposed she did although her aching body didn’t thank her. “I’m fine,” she replied. “Did you sleep at all?”
He chuckled. “Not much.” He glanced down at his lap.
“Are you working?” she asked.
