He uncuffed me and caught my hand before I could stomp away—in silence but with lots of stomping, of course.
“What happened?” he asked, looking at the red welts around my wrist. I should have just held on to the towel rack with both hands when I tried to hulk it off the wall instead of rattling the cuffs in anger. But I was too mad to think before I acted.
The redness from my drawer incident had only just gone away, and now I’d have bruises on my wrist.Great job, Freya.
“Nothing,” I said, pulling my hand back. “Can I go now?”
He stepped back, his jaw hard. There were streaks of dirt smeared across his face, and I forced down the impulse to wipe them off.
Nothing good ever came of touching him, so it was best if I kept my hands to myself.
Instead of giving in, I retreated into the main area of the cabin. But there wasn’t really anywhere I could escape to. Well, except the bathroom. But I’d be damned if I went back in there.
“I’ll be outside, getting dinner ready,” he said, and I chose to ignore what that meant. But I was glad for the temporary reprieve.
When he came back inside over an hour later, I was lying on the bed, my head hanging off the edge, counting the wooden beams on the roof. Heating up our sides, aka tins of beans, wouldn’t take long, so there wasn’t much for me to do.
“The meat is cooking on the barbeque, and I think I saw bread mix somewhere.”
At the mention of bread, I perked up. “Bread? Really?”
He rummaged through the tins, finding a box at the back that had a loaf of bread on the front.Eureka.
“Do you need help?” I asked, getting off the bed.
“I think we only need to add water and milk.”
There wasn’t much in the cabin, but we had plenty of water. And, of course, tinned food and powdered milk. We’d survive at least six months on all the supplies that were stacked up along the shelf and under the benches.
Once we got back to civilization, I’d never look at baked beans the same again. In fact, I hoped I’d never have to look at them again at all.
Gunner opened the box and poured the mix into a bowl. “Says on the packaging that you just need to add water and milk, then mix it all together and put it in the oven for an hour. Sounds easy enough.”
I nodded like I knew what he was talking about. I’d never in my life made my own bread, premix or not. My mom knew how to bake anything from scratch, but I had no talent in the kitchen. Or any interest in learning how to cook or bake.
I’d spent a big part of my life in the kitchen with her. But despite her getting me to help chop vegetables and mix things together, I just never seemed to be able to recreate the recipes she’d made. The results were varied and looked nothing like they did when my mom made them. Most of the times it was edible, but sometimes not so much.
I measured the water and mixed the milk powder, and Gunner put it all together. He then slid the bread in the oven.
“We just have to remember to take it out on time.”
Gunner headed back outside to check on the meat, and I sat down at the kitchen table, keeping an eye on the oven to make sure nothing would burn.
The smell of bread soon filled the cabin, and I watched the clock move with excruciating slowness.
“Meat needs another hour,” Gunner said, ripping me out of my dreams of taking a bath in a tub filled with bread.
Cold air had rushed into the cabin when he opened the door, and I shivered.
“Why didn’t you tell me the fire had almost gone out?” he asked and grabbed a few logs off the side of the fireplace.
I knew we had to use the wood sparingly. We didn’t know how long we’d be here. And I couldn’t expect Gunner to hack down trees just so I could stay toasty warm.
“I’m not cold. Don’t waste wood.” My protest was followed by another shiver.
He noticed, because nothing got past him, and added more logs to the barely there fire.
The gesture was nice, and if I was honest, itwasgetting chilly. I’d been huddling close to the stove to not only watch the bread but also to keep warm.
