“You’re . . . wait. YOU’RE LISTENING TO ME PEE? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? God, you’re such a creep. Is this what happens to men in prison? You’ve been so starved of women that you sink to these lows? Wow, Stone. Out of all the things you’ve managed to shock me with so far, this one takes the cake.”
“I’m not listening to you pee, BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT FUCKING PEEING,” he yells back. “Seven.”
“Fucccck,” I groan, grabbing my pants and pushing them as far away from my body as humanly possible before trying my best to concentrate. “I have performance anxiety.”
Stone groans, the sound full of frustration, and I listen as he crunches through the foliage, making enough sound to ease something inside me, and with a satisfied breath, I finally let it go. I pee for what feels like a century, and I’m grateful when Stone calls it quits on his countdown . . . or count up, as it so happened to be.
I finish my business and feel fifty shades of wrong when I’m then faced with my next three options. Drip dry, shake it like a Polaroid picture . . . or wipe with a leaf. Now, I don’t know what that leaf ever did in a past life, but nothing could have prepared it for the fresh hell I put it through, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Getting myself back together, I make sure everything is in place and am pleased to find that not a single stray drip managed to make it on my clothes. It definitely wasn’t my finest moment, and I hope like hell that I won’t have to do it again any time soon, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
The foliage crunching ceases, and I make my way back over to Stone before striding straight past him, my cheeks flaming withembarrassment. “Mention this ever again, and I will strangle you with your own fucking balls.”
“Ahhh, there’s my menace. Thought she might have been lost for good.”
Clenching my jaw, I lead us through the thickening woods with Stone heavy on my heels, refusing to rise to the bait. He knows exactly how to get under my skin, and he’s doing it flawlessly. But he won’t break me.
I’m no longer terrified of him. Sure, he’s one hell of a scary dude, and I wouldn’t ever want to cross him, but there’s no denying his energy has shifted since last night. Sitting under those trees and just talking like that . . . I don’t know, there was a strange sense of familiarity, and I was comfortable with him. Apparently comfortable enough for my unconscious body to wriggle its way through the foliage and sleep in his arms.
Shit. What is wrong with me?
Moral of the story, he doesn’t look at me as though he’s plotting my death anymore. There’s a rich curiosity there, and definitely a level of deep suspicion. He’s not willing to completely trust me, but after showing him the scar on the back of my head and explaining how I managed to land myself in the hospital for almost a year, something seems to have settled within him.
I have no recollection of that time, and if I truly am who he says I am, then there’s a possibility that I didn’t betray him as he seems to think I did.
What I can’t wrap my head around is that I don’t have a family. I sat in the hospital every day, waiting for someone to walk through the door and claim me, telling myself that they didn’t come because they couldn’t. I pictured a mother who looked just like me, a father who’d rush in and wrap me up in his arms. I’d imagined it so vividly that I sometimes thought the hazy images were memories fighting their way through the fog. Now I’mfinding out the family I’d pictured in my mind didn’t exist. No one was ever coming for me.
All these years, I have wondered about the life I might have had. I’ve strived to be the best version of myself, because surely I had great parents somewhere who raised me to be a strong, kind woman. But to discover that my life was always a fight to survive . . . shit. It broke my heart. The grand life I’d imagined for myself was reduced to ash, but on the bright side, look what I’ve managed to achieve by myself.
I got myself through college, working like a slave, graduated and found a job. Got myself a beautiful apartment to call home, even though cramped doesn’t even begin to explain it, and I’ve kept myself alive. I even joined a gym last year . . . not that I actually go.
I need to get back to that.
I don’t know what’s going to come from this fucked-up little adventure with Stone, but this isn’t my life anymore. Sooner or later, he’s going to be caught and sent back to prison, and then I’ll focus on rebuilding, on trying to figure out who I really am, because right now, I have no idea who the real me even is anymore.
“You’re thinking too hard.” That low, mesmerizing tone rumbles from behind me.
I roll my eyes and ignore him, because honestly, why the hell not? It’s not as though he enjoys answering any of my questions. He can get a taste of his own medicine.
I keep walking, having no idea if I’m even leading us the right way, but I’m sure if I wasn’t, Captain Buzzkill behind me would mention it.
“Do you think the prison knows you’ve escaped yet?”
“No doubt,” he says. “It’s safe to assume they’re already performing preliminary radius searches, but it won’t take long before they expand it. Those sniffer dogs don’t fuck around.They’ll get my scent, but we’ve gotta be gone before that happens. Not to mention, they’ll quickly realize I’m not alone. Your body wouldn’t have been accounted for. They’ll know I’ve taken you.”
“Shit.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But they won’t be able to track me, right? They have nothing to get my scent.”
“You had a blazer at some point. That’s gone,” he murmurs. “Plus, you must have driven to the prison. Where’d you put your keys? In a handbag? Trust me, they’ll get your scent.”
“Fuck, I—”
“Shhhhhh.”
My back stiffens, and in an instant, Stone is pressed against me, his hands gripping my waist as though preparing to defend me.
