Page 83 of Forbidden to Fall

I felt the exact moment he realized where he was and who he was with because he stiffened.

At some point, I’d need to breathe—or maybe passing out would be better?—but at the moment, I was too afraid that I’d do it weirdly and give away that I was awake too.

Not just awake. Very aware of James’s lips on my forehead. Of how much of our bodies were touching.

His lips lingered, then with a small sigh, he drew his head back, pulling them away.

I used the opportunity to stir, realizing with crushing regret that now he’d witness me “waking up” and coming to terms with our…situation. Should I act surprised? Repulsed? Happy? Like this was just another day in the life?

When I opened my eyes and found him looking at me, his hair mussed and his eyes still sleepy, acting went out the window, and all I could do was smile.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning.” I pulled my arm off of his chest. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” His eyes took me in, and I was suddenly aware how I must look.

I brushed a few strands of hair out of my face, then pushed myself up, supporting myself on my palm and looking around. It was the same forest we’d gone to sleep in, but it looked like a different world in the morning light. Where a dark abyss had been, maple trees and sap tubing stretched as far as the eye could see. There was a small stream of smoke coming up from the nonexistent fire.

I glanced at James’s arm, still lying behind me, ready for me to take my place there again.

I wanted to.

“You can have your arm back now,” I said.

He looked over at it. “I can’t actually feel it at the moment.”

I cringed. “My huge anvil head killed your arm.”

His eyes shone with amusement. “The feeling will come back.”

I wasn’t so sure. How long could a limb have no circulation before it needed to be amputated?

I lifted his arm, which was much heavier than I’d expected, and set it on his body.

He laughed. “Thanks.” He used his other arm to get up and out of his Batman bag, his left one hanging useless at his side until his fingers started to get feeling a minute later.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“You wanna get the fire started again?” he asked. “I can run to the house and grab some things for breakfast.”

“You trust me to start a fire on my own? I could accidentally burn your entire maple farm to the ground while you’re getting eggs.”

He stuffed the Batman sleeping bag into its sack. “I think you can handle it.”

Once again, James had more confidence in me than I had in myself.

Was it merited?

That was the question.

Maybe more important than whether I could light a fire on my own was whether I could put out the one inside me.

I’d come face to face with my feelings for James in the dark; in the increasing light of day, they stared me down doggedly. James had left town for eight years, but my feelings hadn’t gone anywhere.

James grabbed the last couple pieces of wood and set them on the thick stump we’d been using as a chopping block.

I swallowed, feeling suddenly suffocated by my feelings for him. I wanted to stuff them back inside me like the sleeping bags in their tightly cinched sacks, but every second I watched him, they seemed to stretch their legs, settling in.