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“Thank you,” I whisper past my aching throat.
She gives me a tired, kind smile. “You look all sad now. Gwenna, it’s like night and day now.” She shifts so her butt is balanced on the chair’s arm, but she’s facing me, her back to Kellan’s sleeping form. “Let me tell you, Gwen…this Barrett here is like, the best Barrett.”
I giggle. I don’t even know why. After a minute, we both start laughing and can’t stop. Cleo leans forward, tossing an arm around me. That’s how Barrett finds us, slumped against the back of Kellan’s chair.
Cleo wakes up Kellan, and he gives Bear and me a sleepy smile. I can’t help noticing his arm’s around Cleo’s shoulders. Looking at the two of them, at Kellan and how good he looks, you’d never guess, but since I know, I think I notice all the small things. God, it must be so scary for Cleo. And Kellan, obviously. I say a prayer that his cancer stays away forever, and they have a long, wonderful life.
Then we’re closing the door behind them. Barrett kisses me. He rocks his boner up against me, driving me gently against the wall. We hump there before winding up on the floor, having frantic sex.
“I’m half drunk,” he says as we lie there, satiated, afterward. His husky words are filled with comical wonder, like he doesn’t quite know how it happened.
I laugh and kiss his scratchy cheek. “I am, too. Stay with me,” I murmur. “Don’t go next door.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
He gets to his feet, and I look up at him.
“You’re mine.” I giggle.
He scoops me up, trying to hold me carefully against his chest without throwing me over his shoulder or carrying me lamb style. I can tell by the way he moves that he’s trying to be careful with me, but he is drunk.
I giggle some more. His steps are slightly unsteady.
“My mule,” I cackle.
My mind whirls. Isn’t that what Elvie used to say? If I got ugly, he’d send me away on a mule?
“You’re my mule,” I whisper again. Goodness fills me, soft and warm and right as rain.
EIGHT
Barrett
“Barrett?”
The clear, sharp voice is out of place. It doesn’t go with what I’m seeing: Gwen’s small body, crumpled, her hair spread around her head, her blood leaking on the roadside. I hear my name a few more times, but it’s just background noise. I’m consumed with what is wrong with Gwen. I’ve got this feeling I should know, but my brain’s sluggish. I don’t understand. How did she get here? Her face is white and slack. Her lips are stained with dark liquid that drips out of the corner of her mouth and down her throat, into the snow.
I drop down beside her, but my knees sink into the warm puddle of blood, and I have to turn away. My stomach lurches. I cup my hand over my mouth. After a second struggling to shut my stomach down, I remind myself that I’m an Operator—and this is Gwen; I love her! Then I put my hands under her hips and shoulders and lift her.
As I pull her onto my lap, warmth spills over my lap. My throat constricts.
“Oh God…” My hands loosen their grip on her. I almost drop her; then I hold her to my chest and sob.
“Gwen…oh God… Oh God, oh please…”
“Barrett—I’m okay.” The voice is distant: background noise.
Our bodies shake together. “Oh my God…Breck. Gwen…”
“Bear… Baby. It’s me—it’s Gwenna. Open your eyes, baby… Look at me.”
I’m looking up at Gwen. Relief transforms her features as she clasps my cheeks and pulls my face toward her.
I wrap my arms around her.
“Bear…that’s right.” I feel her hand stroke my cheek, feel her rocking me. I blink around. The lights…
“That’s right.” Her voice is a thick whisper. “You see the lights?”
