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Saul waited patiently as steam swirled around the room.
Would he disappear one day? Vanish into thin air like the steam would once the window was cracked open? Would she wake one morning to an empty bed, no arm anchored around her waist, no heartbeat chugging beneath her ear, all alone?
The toothbrush clattered into the spink, splattering minty foam over the pristine white bowl and the counter.
Yes, she realized, she would.
Once they returned to civilization, away from the perfect seclusion of the cabin, Saul would be free of his responsibilities to her. Responsibilities he’d had thrust upon him, not ones he’d taken on of his own volition.
How could she have forgotten that this wasn’t her life?
Sharing meals and movies, walks in the fucking forest, Saul…they would disintegrate as soon as they got back to the real world.
She would disintegrate, falling apart, tearing open the rifts she thought were healing, but were barely holding on by the threads.
Caera heard the hum of a motor, water bubbling, but couldn’t move. How many steps were left? How many times would she walk into the kitchen, the bedroom, out onto the porch before the fantasy ended? How many seconds were left on the clock, ticking away with every beat of her heart, counting down until the cabin became an apartment, nature became a city?
Until life became unbearable again?
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Chapter Seven
He was worried about her.
With the shower running and the hot tub warming up, Saul leaned his bare back against the wall and watched Caera struggling not to crumble into pieces. He couldn’t blame her—the sharpness of her scream when she woke, the absolute terror in the sound, had sat him bolt upright, his heart pumping hard with fight instinct.
“Kill the rabbit! Kill the rabbit!”
He couldn’t begin to fathom what went on inside her head when she slept, but he could see why she fought sleep so valiantly. If he was cursed with waking up like that every time he closed his eyes, chased through dreams by monsters from his past…he couldn’t guarantee he would still be here.
Naked, her thighs and calves wet with urine, Caera swayed unsteadily in front of the sink, staring at the toothbrush she’d dropped.
Maybe it was time to go home. He wasn’t sure he could help her deal with this depth of pain alone, and going home meant having Connie close at hand. Perhaps, between the two of them, they could be more effective at preventing the unthinkable.
Saul could smell it on her, more than her fear, more than the product of her terror.
Desperation. Desolation. Grief.
A wicked cocktail that whipped up death.
Stripping down to the skin, briefs and all, Saul walked up behind her, pulling her back against him. Stroking her hip lightly, he kissed the curve of her neck. “Come on, bunny. Spit and rinse, there’s a good girl.”
Slowly, a puppet on strings clutched in novice hands, she obeyed. “What time is it?”
“Nearly three a.m.”
“Oh.” She let him steer her into the shower, didn’t blink as he quickly rinsed away the urine. When he turned the water off, her voice was flat. “Is that it?”
“No, little rabbit.” Leading her carefully out of the shower onto the mat, he didn’t bother drying her off. Linking her fingers with his, he guided her to the hot tub, helping her step into the warm bubbling water.
She sank in up to her chin, her eyes vacant.
Climbing in beside her, he let the water churn around him, easing some of the tension knotting his muscles. He hadn’t realized how much strain he carried in his shoulders, trying to bear the weight of some of her problems.
It was worth it.
Fuck, he’d pick her and her baggage up, carrying it for the rest of his life if it meant she got a normal life.
