“Something moving near the tent. Maybe it’s a bear.”
“A bear?”
“I don’t know.” I clutched the edge of my sleeping bag tighter. “But it didn’t sound small.”
Reaching up, he turned on the tent lantern. He tilted his head, listening intently to the nocturnal symphony beyond the tent walls.
“I don’t think it’s a bear, Ollie, but I get it. Sometimes the night plays tricks on the mind. Especially out here, surrounded by sounds your mind isn’t used to. It’s easy for the unfamiliar to be threatening.” He paused, eyes searching mine. “I don’t want you to be scared. Would it help if you slept closer beside me? No pressure, but the option stands if it would make you more comfortable.”
Well, I’d already humiliated myself in front of him with that embarrassing panic attack. I guess I had no face left to save. Ifthe aftermath of my pathetic startling got me a sliver of time in his arms, I would wear that shame like a crown.
“Yes please,” I squeaked.
The sound of Luke’s sleeping bag unzipping filled the tent. He shifted closer, and when his arm draped over the curve of my sleeping bag, settling against my side, the contact, even filtered through layers of fabric, had electricity skating along the surface of my skin, leaping from nerve to nerve.
“I told you I’d freak out over the noises outside,” I whispered.
“And I told you I’d be more than happy and willing to protect you from the creatures in the dark,” Luke murmured near my temple. “I’ve got you. No animal is going to get to us in here.”
I inched closer, unable to help the way my body sought more of his. The campfire’s musk clung to his skin, mingling with the tang of sweat. The odor surrounded me, filling my nostrils, and weaving itself around my senses like a spell I never wanted broken. I could’ve blanketed myself in the scent and never come up for air.
It was official, I really was an irredeemably terrible person. But with Luke holding me through the padded wall of nylon and insulation, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Chapter 20
Luke
Glancing up from his sandwich midway through his lunch break, Oliver said, “They mentioned something at group yesterday.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“They stated the center and some of the other shelters around here offer self-defense classes for survivors.”
“Yeah? Do you think you might want to do that?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. If I’m ever in... if anything ever happens again, I don’t want to be the pushover who just takes it. But I’m not sure I’m ready to be in a class full of strangers. With your job, you’ve had that kind of training, right?”
“Yes, I’m certified in defensive tactics, situational awareness, all of it.”
“Then, would you be the one to teach me? I’d feel safest learning from you.”
The idea of running self-defense drills together was not exactly a chill prospect. Ever since the camping trip last weekend, Oliver had been jumpier around me. One harmless comment about my tattoo and bam, the Vincent effect stole the show.
The last thing I wanted was to be the reason he slipped back into that darkness. But I also knew the whole point of this was taking his power back, not hiding from it. And if he trusted meenough to help him do that, then I didn’t want crush him by saying no.
“Yeah, for sure, I’d love to be the one to teach you. We can start today if you’d like? I can clear the living room for us while you finish up your work day.”
“Yeah, I’d love to get started! Thank you. I’ve nearly finished everything that needs to be done today, so I can head out early. I’ll be done within the next few hours.”
By the time Oliver came down from his office loft, I’d transformed the living room into a makeshift training space. I’d pushed the coffee table to the wall, freeing up the middle of the floor. I’d unrolled thick yoga mats side by side, soft enough to cushion landings and dense enough to mute impact for the sake of the neighbors in the condos below.
Oliver paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the cleared space. “Whoa. You really went for it.”
“Figured if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” I gave the mat nearest him a pat. “Welcome to Walker’s School of Tactical Awesomeness.”
Oliver walked over to where I indicated.
“Step one, we set ground rules.”
