I ignore him, all my thoughts focused on Piper. I push away the urge to grab her, knowing Ishouldlet her sleep, because for the first time since I found her in the cave, her features are relaxed, and I can tell she’s not in pain. Gingerly, I lift my arm and fold it around her, and then I nestle against her, feeling her body curve perfectly into mine.
That’s all that matters, and I allow myself to lose consciousness once more. This time, there’s no weird horse dream. I have my cricket, and knowing that allows me to sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.
_
The next time I awake, I feel more comfortable than I have in a long time. One of my arms rests beside me, and I allow my fingers to circle the soft cotton that coats the mattress beneath me. The other is lying over my stomach, and when I try to move it, it feels heavy, and a dull sort of pain throbs through me. It tugs at something, too, and when I slowly turn, I notice I’ve been hooked up to an IV bag.
Then I think of Piper. She’s nowhere to be found. Neither are Logan and Josh.
My heart crippling with sudden anxiety, I manage to overcome my weakness and sit up. In another movement, I’m ripping out the tube and catheter, and standing up on unsteady feet. I vaguely realize I’m half-naked, clothed only in briefs, which tells me this must not be a real hospital.
It definitely isn’t. What kind of hospital would have timber walls, a timber roof and floors? The bed is far too comfortable to be a hospital bed, the room far too large. It looks like I’m in some sort of vast log cabin or old-fashioned ranch house.
I look around for my gun, but it’s not here. Neither are the rest of my clothes. But I don’t give a shit. Now that I’m alert, my arm patched up, not even the lack of a weapon could prevent me from getting to Piper.
I open the door, my entire body on alert. I have no fucking clue where I am, or if Logan or Josh brought me here. If they broughtPiper here.
My bare feet pad into the living room. It’s all made of timber, just like the bedroom, with a sagging leather couch in one corner and a small cast-iron stove in another. The carpet is threadbare and there’s old furniture around, crowded with knick knacks, while on the wall hangs bad art.
This can’t belong to Logan, can it? Everything is so busy and at odds with the minimalist style I caught a glimpse of at his apartment.
I continue to walk through the rooms, alert for any sound that could lead me to Piper, or warn me about an enemy. But there’s no one. The house is absolutely empty.
At last, though, I come to a door that looks like it must lead outside, and I turn the knob gingerly.
Even in my state of heightened nerves, I can’t help but grow breathless at what I see.
All around me are miles and miles of untouched woods. Not the yellow-green oaks that surround Astley. No, these are tall, majestic pines, their tips sparkling white with snow, stretching out as far as the eye can see. I’m standing on a large, wrap-around balcony, and beyond, between the house and the forest, is a wide glittering blue lake frosted with ice.
In the clearing leading up to it are a set of wooden, cushioned lounge chairs. Resting on one of them is… Piper.
I’m so relieved to see her that I nearly stumble as I take the stairs leading to her two by two. All thought of where we are, and why, and who brought us here, melt from my mind as I reach her.
She’s lying back, her eyes closed as though she’s sleeping, her breathing calm. She’s huddled under a heavy blanket, and I realize suddenly it must be freezing cold, judging by the frozen ice on the ground and the trees glistening with snow. I’m almost naked, but I can’t feel the bite of winter. All I can see is her.
As I draw near, I notice her face is still a pattern of cuts and bruises, but they’ve clearly been treated, and it doesn’t look like it would hurt as much as before. Some of the more superficial ones are already fading, and the brand new glasses lying in the frozen grass a little further away, which she’s tossed there in her usual haphazard way, tell me she’s being looked after.
I know I should let her sleep, she looks like she could use it, but I need her too much to stay back. I sit on the chair beside her, planting an arm on either side of her, and brush her lips with a kiss.
I don’t want to wake her, but I need to know she’s real.
The kissdoeswake her, though, and her eyes flutter open.
“Quill,” she sobs out, throwing herself in my arms.
I pull her into my lap, kicking away the blanket, holding her to me, rocking her as she cries into my neck. My heart seizes as I wonder if I’ve won her forgiveness at last. I’m bitterly aware I don’t deserve it. I was helpless to save her. I could only look on as that man threatened to rape her. I’m useless, I’m weak, and I have no right to her. But whether or not Idohave a right to her, she’s mine, and I’m going to keep her.
“Cricket,” I breathe into her hair. “Cricket.”
I start repeating her name softly, helpless to control the tic that makes me repeat things nonstop when I’m struggling with my emotions. The emotions pushing down on me right now are mostly not negative, but they’re so powerful it feels like I’m suffocating. She’s wetting my neck with her tears, and I’m crying just as hard as she is, thanking whatever force of nature saved her, and whatever weird, corrupted twist of fate led her back into my arms.
“Never leave me again,” she implores at last, drawing back just slightly to look at me, and then plunging once more into my arms. “Never leave me again, Quill. Promise. Promise me.”
I don’t bother to remind her she’s the one who left me. I onlymurmur, “I promise you, my little cricket. You belong to me. I own you.”
“Yes,” she sighs against my chest. “But not as much as I own you.”
Tired out from my exertion, I inch back against the chair, pulling her with me. Then I’m lying against its back, my cricket in my arms, the blanket covering us both, staring out at the beautiful blue lake before us, feeling safe at last.
