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“Drinking. Drugs.” I shrug. I don’t want to sound like some kind of lame after school special, but it’s true: it is impressive that he’s held himself together so well.
I watch Barrett’s face, but there is nothing to be found on it. Maybe a vague haunted expression, which I could easily be imagining.
“No,” he finally says.
A grave look passes over his face: there and quickly gone.
He takes my right hand in his and turns it over, and I see his eyes fix on a scar that runs from the middle of my forearm up to my elbow. It’s more white than pink now, not easy to see.
“The accident?” he murmurs, looking into my eyes.
I nod. “They thought maybe it was from…the windshield.”
His jaw tightens. “You remember anything?”
I shake my head. He lowers our hands, his fingers stroking mine. I shut my eyes for half a second, just to focus on that feeling—and not getting anxious. This is not something I usually talk about except with Helga. “Nothing from the night at all,” I confess.
He swallows, eyes fixed on me. I can feel his words—unsaid. So long unsaid, I have to ask: “What are you thinking?”
He swallows again, and shakes his head.
“You were alone,” he says in a soft monotone. His eyes are on the rock below us.
“How’d you know about it?”
“Internet.” His eyes on mine are hard. They soften—almost sad—as I touch his shoulder.
“I could barely stand it,” he says thickly.
“That’s…” I shake my head. It makes my throat tighten and my eyes sting, just seeing the look on his face.
He sits up and covers my knees with his big hands, stroking softly as he speaks. “You’ll never be alone like that again. I swear.” He looks emphatic—almost angry.
Barrett wraps his arms around me, pulling me onto his lap and hugging me so tightly I nearly can’t breathe.
“How long were you out there?” he asks hoarsely.
It takes me a minute to put together what he’s asking. How long was I on the ground…
“Around three hours.” His grip on me loosens, so I’m able to pull back a little and look up into his eyes. “I was kind of…like, my head was kind of down… A little off the road and on the shoulder. I was so cold,” I say, hoarse despite trying to sound impassive. “That’s part of why they were able to save me.”
He rubs my back briskly, as if he’s trying to warm me. His lips meet my forehead and my cheeks.
I grin. “You’re sweet.”
“I would do anything to keep you safe.”
“And warm.” I nuzzle his chest. “Sometimes I have nightmares about being cold.”
“I’ll keep you warm, Pig.”
“You want to keep me warm on the way to the enclosure?”
“Sure.” He pets my hair and gently sets me down. Then he hops down off the rock and turns his back toward me. “Get on.”
I giggle.
I wrap my
