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And it only took a second to figure out how to flick open the blade.
But even as I stared at it, even as I had to forcefully push Captain back with my foot so I could go outside alone, even a I walked aimlessly in the dark woods, even as I sank down to my knees, the ache in my chest a cracking thing, even as the tears started, dripping like an endless river down my cheeks, off my chin.
Even then as I noticed the way the moon’s glow danced off the blade of the knife.
Even then…
Those words didn’t cross my mind.
I didn’t feel suicidal. I didn’t think about self-conclusion.
I simply needed the pain to end.
I needed it all to go away.
I needed not to ever have to think those thoughts, remember those memories, ever again.
A press.
A slice.
A burning I hadn’t anticipated.
The rush of hot blood that went cold as soon as it kissed my skin.
I didn’t remember what happened then.
My eyes closed, my body curling forward like I could crush out the pain if I folded tightly enough into myself.
Then the knife went flying, my wrist was bound, and I found myself curled into arms that were becoming familiar, nestled against a chest whose scent I knew intimately.
I drifted into myself then.
I didn’t remember getting back to the cabin, being laid out on the couch, being cleaned up.
The next definite feeling I had was a searing pain exploding across my wrist, making my eyes fly open, my body shock back into the present moment.
“Good,” Ranger said, slamming the bottle of vodka down on the coffee table, dabbing at my wrist to wipe away more of the burning liquid. There was something in his eyes then, something I hadn’t seen there before. I couldn’t claim to be a Ranger expert. I’d only been around him for a few days. And only aware of him half of the time. But there was an evenness to him, like he didn’t easily rile, like very little ever got a rise out of him. Every once in a while, I would catch him looking at me. Sometimes with curiosity or confusion. Other times, there seemed to maybe even be a twinge of worry. But this, this was something I had never seen there before. Something deep. Something determined. “You’re back. We need to talk.”
There was a wobbling in my belly. Something within me knew that things were going to change.
My throat constricted at the idea of him sending me away. Not that I could blame him. He’d been cooking for me, cleaning up after me, worrying about me, losing his dog’s loyalty to me. It was a burden. One he didn’t need to bear. One that infringed on the lifestyle he had built for himself.
All I did was take.
All I did was make him save me.
Hell, I would have sent myself away.
He had every right to be sick of me, to tell me he didn’t sign up for this, that he was done with me, that he was driving me out of the woods, and didn’t want to see me again.
“I’ll make the coffee,” he added, collecting his supplies, tucking them away, then moving to stand, turning away. “Meet you at the table.”
It wasn’t, by any stretch of the definition, a request.
I believed wholeheartedly that if I did not go there willingly that he would come and get me, force me into a chair.
Taking a steadying breath, I pushed upward, resting my feet on the ground, feeling the burn of a few new scratches. I must have kicked off Ranger’s socks in my sleep, and the walk on the forest floor bit at my soles. I needed shoes.
Well, if the tension in Ranger’s shoulders was anything to go by, he was likely going to be driving me home soon. I would have more than enough shoes to last a lifetime. It was a weakness of mine. I comforted myself that I always bought cheap shoes, and mostly on clearance, so it wasn’t the worst addiction to have.
I lowered myself into the seat facing Ranger as he moved around his kitchen, stomach sinking at the idea of going home.
Home.
A place that once brought nothing but warm feelings. The one place in the world I was always dying to get to. After a long day of work. After some weekend function. After even just running errands all day.
There was nothing better than kicking out of my heels, stretching my toes on the plush carpet, pulling my bra out of my sleeve on the way down the hall to my bedroom, digging out some comfortable loungewear, grabbing a cup of coffee, curling up on the couch under a giant blanket and watching some bingeable show on TV.
It was a safe haven.
It wrapped around me like a warm hug.
