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Does it bring him comfort to have it close?
The way he’s touching it is as though it’s a lover, and he’s tracing the outline of her body.
The thought takes me back to the moment in his dressing room where he’d run his fingers over my face, the way he’d stopped at my lower lip and dragged it down slightly, my saliva wetting the tip. He’s a strange contrast of pure masculinity and refined tenderness. Sitting out here now, with his long hair hanging loose and his t-shirt torn, his face dirty and bloodied, he looks the epitome of a mountain man. Big and brooding. The one thing that shows he’s not is the instrument he’s holding so carefully.
An hour passes, and then another.
Cade picks up the bottle of water his brother rescued from the plane and lifts it to his lips. I watch his tattooed throat work as he drinks deeply. He lowers it again and screws the lid back on without offering any to either me or his brother.
“Don’t you think you should make that last?” I say. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be out here.”
He shrugs. “There’s no point in saving it. A few extra mouthfuls of water won’t make the difference between us living or dying.”
“You could at least offer it around. Maybe Darius is thirsty.”
Cade glances over his shoulder at his brother. “He’ll tell me if he’s thirsty. He doesn’t need to use all this passive aggressive, manipulative bullshit.”
Is he talking about me?
“How am I being passive aggressive and manipulative?”
“Pulling out the poor little me act with Reed. You think he’s the fatherly type? That he’s going to take care of you? I guarantee he’s already thought about getting in your panties.”
I burn up with humiliation. “Shut the fuck up.”
He gets to his feet, using the stick as a prop. “You gonna make me?”
I glance over to his brother, hoping Darius will step in, but he just seems to be listening intently, perhaps using our fight as entertainment or a distraction.
Cade takes a step closer. “I mean, you’re stuck out here with three men who have nothing else to do. You might as well make yourself useful.”
I glare at him in dismay. What’s he expecting of me? That I’m going to spread my legs and let them pass me between them to keep them entertained?
He’s close enough now to touch me, and he runs his finger down the side of my cheek, leaving a sensitive trail in its place.
“I see you, Laney,” he growls. “I know what kind of person you are. You’re a fucking martyr, and you want everyone to feel sorry for you. So life handed you a bag of shit? So what? Plenty of people have tough lives—they don’t go around blaming everyone else for it.”
“I don’t blame everyone else, and I’m not a fucking martyr.”
“Really? You sure about that?”
I knock his hand away. “What right do you have to criticize me? Like you’re fucking perfect or something?”
“Leave her be, Cade,” Darius finally says. “You’re not helping the situation.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you could see her.” His brother smirks. “She’s a little on the skinny side for my liking, but she’s still hot. You got a feel of her, didn’t you? Ran your hands over her face so you know what she looks like. Maybe she should letyou do the same for her body. Small tits, but any more than a handful is a waste, right?”
“Fuck off,” I tell him.
I don’t want to cry, but I’m mad and I’m frightened. Where is Reed? What if I end up stuck out here with Cade and Darius? That’s almost more terrifying than being alone.
Yes, alone. That’s what I need to be right now. I don’t want to be anywhere near that bastard.
I turn, away from the plane and both the men, and head toward the tree line.
“Where are you going?” Cade shouts after me.
I ignore him and keep walking. I won’t go far—I’m not so stupid that I’ll risk losing sight of the plane—but I simply don’t want to be around him right now. When I feel I’ve put enough distance between us, my legs give way beneath me, and I crumble to the forest floor. I put my face in my hands and give way to the tears that have been building ever since Reed left.
