Not after he decided she flirted with everyone she came in contact with and that she needed to be kept apart from everyone else. Once he decided he would make her perfect.
She’d never been perfect enough. “No. He had his own priorities.”
“Sounds like he wasn’t any good for you and you should be glad the marriage is over.”
Oh, she was. She just wasn’t sure Damien would feel the same way if he knew she was alive.
“What?” Ren asked. “What was that look?”
She wanted to trust him with the whole story, tell him how she’d faked her death and was afraid Damien would find her and hurt her again. She’d carried this for so long alone. The fear, the exhaustion, the isolation.
But it wasn’t Ren’s burden to carry.
So she just smiled. “No look. Things just don’t turn out like you thought they would, sometimes.”
His green eyes studied hers. “I know.”
She leaned her head back against the couch, against his hand still resting there.
“You ready to learn how to use the flint and make some fire with no matches?” he finally asked. It was one of the things he promised to show her. “The fire is down enough that I’ll put it out and you can rebuild it. It’ll be part of your SERE training.”
She laughed, sitting up with him. “My what?”
“SERE. Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape. It’s a military acronym for training they give us.”
“I’m really only getting the S, so I don’t know if the army would approve.”
He chuckled. “Probably true. Let’s hope you never need the other, anyway, seeing as it was a carry-over from soldiers who escaped and evaded Nazis in World War II.”
“Yeah, I’m hoping not to be evading Nazis any time soon.”
He showed her how to build kindling starting with the smallest and finest twigs she could find. When she had what looked like a tiny teepee in the stove belly, he stepped back.
“Okay, strike the steel against the flint like I showed you, close to the tinder, and you’ll be all set.”
He stood up behind her. Natalie stared down at the round piece of steel—it looked like it belonged on the bridle of a horse—in one hand and the flint, which looked like a plain rock you might find in any backyard, in the other.
She tried to get it to work, but couldn’t. How hard could it be? Hitting one hard object against the other, getting a little spark and starting a fire? It certainly hadn’t looked difficult when Ren had shown her.
Tension began strumming through her as she continued to try. Her aggravation was doubled by knowing Ren was watching this whole time, probably wondering why she was so inept. Tears stung her eyes at her inability to get such a simpletask completed. He’d shown her more than once, given her understandable instructions, and she couldn’t get it.
After another few minutes, sweat now dripping across her brow, she saw one of his shoes come into her line of vision as he moved closer. She forced her arms to hit the flint harder, even though she was tired now and holding herself in this position was hurting her back.
How long before he lost his patience and started yelling? Or just pushed her out of the way and did it himself?
“Natalie.”
She waited for the belittlement.
“Take a breath, okay, Peaches?”
She hunched her shoulders. “I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
A moment later he was crouched behind her. “No need to be sorry. It can be tricky to use flint the first time.” His arms came around her, his hand covering hers on the steel and stone. “Try hitting it at a slightly steeper angle.”
He showed her again so she could get the feel for the motion. Then he let go, putting his hands on the stove, keeping her fenced between his arms. After a few more times she struck it again, and this time it worked.
Ren’s hands trailed up her arms to her shoulders as he moved away from her. “See? Just needed to get a feel for it. Nobody gets everything perfect all the time.”
