“She is tired and I am taking her home,” I announced. “Goodnight. Warden Tenn and Tasha, I wish you safe travels.”
“Bye!” Lualhati said, flapping her hand in the general direction of the group.
A chorus of stilted goodbyes rang out behind me as I took Lualhati out the door.
The cold air felt good on my skin after the warmth of the saloon.
And Lualhati felt so perfect in my arms. I could have carried her the whole way home like this. I thought about it. Really thought about it. Wondered what excuse I might use about leaving the sled and the shuldu behind.
I could not, of course. I had to get Bart and Berta stabled for the night. With something far too close to acrid regret for my liking, I laid her down in the sled.
She curled up onto her side immediately.
Some of her hair had fallen into her face. It rustled with each breath, making her nose wrinkle as it tickled her skin. I brushed the strands away, smoothing them tenderly back. I did not allow myself to touch her beyond that.
I spent the ride back in silence that had grown strangely unfamiliar to me. Usually, Lualhati would keep up some kind of conversation between us. I used to enjoy the quiet. Now, it felt unnatural. Hollow.
It was not a good sign about what my life would be like once she left me.
Lefthere. Notme.
Besides, my life would simply be as it had been before. No better. No worse.
So why did it feel like it would be worse? That my life, like my house would be once she was gone, would be empty? That the meticulous order I’d always valued would be entirely meaningless to me now, without her there to poke at it, tease it, fray it?
This was a pathetically foolish sort of moroseness. The kind I never allowed myself to indulge in. Perhaps Warden Tenn had had a point, when he had called me sullen. It irked me to think that Warden Tenn had seen something in me that I had not been able to. I prided myself on being someone who could judge people efficiently and accurately. Myself, most of all. Denial was the tool of lesser men. I’d never been one to hide from my own motives before.
But my motives were not her motives. She had made her decision. She would not stay.
I respected that. Because I respected her.
Respected her, and…
A snort, followed by the smacking of lips, interrupted the gloom of my own thoughts. Lualhati shifted on the hard seat of the sled, obviously uncomfortable. I urged Bart and Berta on a little faster. So that I could get her into her bed all the sooner.
When we reached my station, I picked her up once more, attempting to carry her inside.
“Wait!” she said before we’d reached the door. “Gotta pee!”
I carried her to the outhouse and waited outside the door for her to finish. Once that was done, I brought her inside, took off her boots for her, and supervised her as she washed her hands. Even while inebriated, she washed her hands like a surgeon, the motions thorough and vigorous, perhaps driven by muscle memory.
“Night!” she said, not bothering to dry them when she was done. She shook her hands and stumbled awkwardly to the bedroom door.
Mybedroom door.
“Wrong room,” I said, following close behind her. She ignored me, or perhaps didn’t hear me, faceplanting onto my bed with a satisfied sigh.
“Where’s the blanket?” she said, her words muffled by the very blanket she sought.
“You are on top of it,” I told her, crossing my arms. “You also still have all your clothes on.”
“Just take them off me, then.”
My guts clenched. I knew she didn’t mean anything by it beyond wanting my help to get comfortable. But she’d set lurid images racing through my head, like runaway shuldu. Images of me drawing her trousers carefully down those bare legs. Pulling her dress up over her head. Feeling her hot, bare flesh with my hands.
“Doctor,” I gritted out.
“Lualhati.”
