Snapping back will only prolong his presence,however, so I bite back my automatic response. I wrap an arm around him—above his injury, just below his armpits—and he uses the support to heft himself to his feet with a loud bellow of pain.
He’s clearly not one to suffer in silence.
His obvious pain makes me squirmy and uncomfortable, but I summon all my strength to hold him on his feet.
He’s not steady. At all. But he doesn’t fall.
“Which way are you heading?” I ask. “We’re just east of Cleverly.”
“I need to go north.”
Toward the middle of the Wild.
“Okay. This way.” I start walking toward the north trail, my arm still around him, and he comes with me, limping but staying on his feet.
He’s big. Several inches taller than me and about twice as broad in the shoulders. He’s trying to hold his own weight, but a lot of it is still resting on me. I have to fight to keep my knees from buckling.
“You’ve got to do better than this,” I mutter.
“I’m tryin’. Fuck!” With another loud sound, he straightens, freeing me of his weight.
I let him go. He’s heading for the trailhead. His back is to me. I’m about to get rid of him.
It’s enough for me to take care of myself and Molly. I have no room in my life or what’s left of my heart for anyone else.
He needs to go.
He needs to go.
I see him wobble and reach him just in time to catch him as he slumps.
“Shit,” he breathes, letting me take some of his weight. He’s white beneath his tan now. Shaking all over.
“Don’t fall down until I get you inside,” I tell him bluntly. “Or I’ll never get you up again.”
3
An hour later,the man is sprawled out on my small bed in the camper. He’s almost too big for it, and he’s bleeding all over my bedding.
I try not to grumble to myself because it might not have been his fault that he got shot. Innocent people get hurt all the time, and he certainly didn’t appear in my life for the sole purpose of intruding on my space.
But I’m not used to people anymore, and my camper and its small spot by the creek have become my private sanctuary.
I don’t want him here.
He’s unconscious now, so there’s not much hope of getting rid of him soon.
I’ve cleaned him up better and cut off his torn and bloodied trousers. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of old gray cotton briefs that do little to hide his body.
He looks bigger than he did outside. His body is toned and muscular. His thighs and biceps are huge, and his belly is mostly flat. There’s dark hair on his arms, legs, and chest and more visible beneath the waistband of his underwear.
I can see the outline of his privates beneath his underwear, and that makes me feel uncomfortable too.
It’s intimate.
And I’m no longer intimate with anyone at all.
He’s still sweating, but he starts to shiver, so I find the blanket I use in the winter and cover him up with it, hoping he’s not going to ruin the warmest thing I possess.
