“Drink your tea.”
She picked up the mug from the coffee table and took a sip. It was cold chamomile tea.
Wade watched her drink. “Good,” he said. “That’s better.”
Reese set the mug down. Her stomach rolled, but she kept her face quiet.
“You’re going to eat,” Wade said.
“Okay.”
Wade looked at her for another second. Then he turned back to the counter, picking up a can opener to open a can of chili. He dumped the contents into a small pot and put the pot on a burner.
Reese kept her eyes down.
Wade opened the refrigerator and took out a package of cheese. He set it on the counter and then pulled a package of tortillas from the cabinet.
“See?” he said. “It’s easier for you when you cooperate.”
She kept her hands folded over her belly. “You’re right.”
He glanced over his shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips before he turned back to the stove.
Wade stirred the chili pot and then opened the tortilla package. He put the cast-iron skillet on the front burner, sprayed it with cooking spray, and added the first tortilla. He added shredded cheese to half and then folded the other side over the top of it. He pressed it down with the spatula and started a second tortilla.
He waited until the bottoms were brown and then flipped them. The smell of toasted flour, melted cheese, and warming chili filled the cabin. Reese’s stomach tightened. She hated that the smell of Wade’s cooking made her feel so hungry. Wade put the quesadillas onto plates and spooned chili into two bowls.
“Come sit at the table,” he said.
Reese got up from the couch. Her legs felt stiff, and her body ached from being pushed around. She crossed to the kitchen table and sat in the chair. Wade brought everything to the table and sat across from her.
“This reset period is exactly what you need,” he said. “You’ll see that once you calm down.”
Reese picked up her spoon.
“We’ll stay here until you understand that,” he said. “Then we’ll go home and start preparing for the baby. You’ll stop thinking you can run.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a bite of chili.
Wade smiled.
She hated that the food tasted good. She hated that the baby needed it. She took another bite and kept her face neutral.
Reese finished the chili because she was hungry enough that her hands had trembled around the spoon, each bite going down too fast despite the heat. The last bite sat hot and heavy in her stomach. She set the spoon down inside the empty bowl and let out a satisfied sigh.
“There,” Wade said. “See? That’s better. You always do better when you stop fighting me.”
Reese looked at the table. “You’re right.”
Wade smiled, satisfied, and pushed his bowl toward the center of the table. “I want you to wash up while I get firewood.” Wade crossed to the door and unlocked it. “This place gets cold once the sun goes down.”
Wade stepped outside, and cold air moved through the room. His boots crossed the porch, then the gravel. Reese stood, stacked the bowls and plates, and carried them to the sink.
She turned on the water. The cast-iron skillet sat on the stove beside her. The front door was open a crack.
She turned off the water and stood perfectly still, listening. The tarp at the woodpile scraped as Wade pulled it back. Reese crossed the room, opened the door, and slipped outside.
Cold air hit her face when she stepped onto the porch. She heard Wade stacking wood into his arms at the side of the cabin. She pulled the door almost shut behind her and moved toward the stairs as quietly as she could. She took the steps quickly, one hand on the rail, the other over her belly.
