Because I’m not looking, I’m startled when I sense someone very close to me. But a peek under my eyelashes proves it’s just Cade. He knelt down beside my couch. “Hi,” I tell him.
“Hi.” He caresses my cheek with his knuckle. “Before the nurse comes over, can you just tell me… Did they… Before I got there, did they…”
I blink at him in confusion. “Did they what?”
“The guys that took you. Did they…”
“I tried to run away. They killed Pete.” My voice breaks at this crushing recollection. I’d almost forgotten. With a wobbly voice, I continue, “Then one of them punched me. Right here.” I touch my aching cheekbone. “They then tied me up and threw me in the back of the truck. They said a lot of nasty things about what they were going to do to me. But they were waiting—” I open my eyes wide. “Oh. I see. They didn’t rape me. Is that what you were asking?”
“It was. I…” His face twists dramatically. “I didn’t know what they’d done.”
“They were going to, but they didn’t get the chance.” Everything clouded over in the weirdness of Cade’s unexpected presence and identity, but the nightmare comes back to me in a nauseating wave. “Shit. Oh shit.” I sit up, hit by waves of hot and cold in turn. I pant raggedly.
Cade jumps up and returns with an empty pail. Just in time. I vomit painfully into it, and afterward my head hurts even worse.
Cade holds the pail and strokes my hair back as I throw up. Then he helps me lie down again, spreading the blanket over my shivering body.
He kisses my forehead and says he’s getting the nurse.
I do have a concussion, but fortunately it’s not a very serious one. After I rest, take some Advil, warm up, and process everything that’s happened, I start to feel better.
I doze off several times but never for very long. Then one time I wake up, it feels like I’ve slept longer.
My headache has reduced to a low pulse, and my mind is fully working again.
“Cade,” I say scratchily. It feels like I haven’t used my voice in years.
“I’m right here.” He must be nearby. He sounds close. “Y’okay? You need anything?”
“Water, if you have it.”
“We do.” There’s a sound of shuffling. Then one of his hands is on the back of my head, lifting it slightly. “Here it is.”
I let him hold the bottle of water to my mouth because he already started the process, but I’m pretty sure I could have held it myself. I swallow down several sips. Then wave it away.
“I want to sit up,” I say, prying open my eyes.
“Okay. Hold on and let me help you.” He’s definitely hovering. He quickly sets down the bottle and adjusts my blanket before he helps raise me to a half-sitting position, folding a pillow in half and fitting it behind me. “How’s that?”
“It’s fine. Thanks.”
“How do you feel?”
“Better. The headache is mostly gone, and my mind seems to be working at last. Can you… Can you please tell me what’s going on?”
He grows still for a moment. Then nods and kneels down on the floor beside where I’m lounging. “Where should I start?”
“How did you know? That I was captured. You were… you were waiting for us. How… how… It’s not like anyone has phones anymore.”
“No. But we’ve got some working radios. And we get news from town. They attacked you and Pete close enough to town that it was seen. Someone called it in.”
“Who called?—”
“We have some sources. We keep them secret for their own safety.”
“Oh. That makes sense. But how did you know it was me?”
“Because they said it was you. Jill in the red dress from the Pub. You were seen. Everyone knows you in town.”
