Finally, I ignored it. I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, wrapped it around me, and settled in alone for a long winter’s night.
31
Christa
“Mmmmmm.” I woke, stretched, sniffed…coffee?
My eyes opened to bright light, pouring in through the bedroom’s single window. Not home. I blinked fully awake. The cabin in the woods. Micah’s. The man who’d saved me and then…
Fueled by panic, I turned and put my arm out, only to pull it back in pain.
Oh, holy night, myback. It was worse than yesterday. I felt steamrollered, like every bone and muscle had been pried apart and hammered at before being put back into my body.
But worse than that, I was alone. And had been for a while, judging by the coolness of the sheet beside me. Not to mention the sweet smells coming from the kitchen. Had he even slept here with me or had he spent another night on the sofa?
I cocked my head, expecting to hear some kind of movement from the other room.
Nothing. Absolute silence.
Not only was there no sound, but there was no…presence.
Something big and heavy and sad weighted my chest. Which was ridiculous, right? He’d probably let the dogs out and no doubt had a million other things to take care of out there.
But his absence felt like more than that. It felt like a message, aDon’t get too comfortable, Christa. And definitely don’t get too used to this.
I let out a shaky breath, keeping it as measured and quiet as I could. No point feeling sorry for myself. Besides, it wasn’t over yet.
At least I didn’t think so.
I swallowed hard and glanced at the window. Okay, so it had stopped snowing, he was awake and gone and I was alone.
We’d have today, still, I guessed. And possibly tomorrow. Maybe longer, depending on snow plows and stuff like that. But thisthingwouldn’t last much longer. It couldn’t.
But when it was over, I’d be devastated.
I would not freaking cry again. Especially not about theamazingsexual experience we’d shared. He’d rattled me. I’d rattled myself, if I was honest. But I refused to get melancholy before it even ended. Nope.
Faster than was good for me, I rolled to the side of the bed and sat up.Whoa. That hurt. I waited for the sharper pains to subside and wrapped the thick, down-filled comforter around me.
This pain wasn’t all bad. Because today, I was sore for the right reasons, along with the wrong ones. Oh, I felt the accident, and probably would for months to come, but a new series of pains had emerged, sweet ones, where Micah had held me or stretched me, or where our bodies had rubbed each other raw. There was a luxuriousness to it. And a wistfulness that I—
Shut up.
I didn’t have shoes or a purse or a phone or even conditioner for my hair. Right now, I would settle for clothes. Preferably clean ones. Or maybe something that smelled like him.
Idiot.
I stood and waddled to a dresser, wondering how rude it would be to open a drawer and rifle through it. Very, probably, but I couldn’t exactly walk around the place in a feather-stuffed cape.
The first drawer contained neatly-folded boxer briefs. I closed it quickly…and then opened it again. Man, he was neat. His belongings all put away, the piles tidier than anything I’d created in my life.
The front door opened with the usual sound of eight tiny dog paws, and I slammed the drawer shut guiltily, and opened the bedroom door, still clad in nothing but a comforter.
“Hey!” I called out cheerily.
At the same time, he said, “You want to—”
Both dogs barked hysterically, overlapping our awkward moment. Things turned to chaos as they rushed back outside.
