Page 44

"I know." He reached out a hand toward me. "Hey. C'mere."

I shook my head. "Need more water." I dipped into the backpack and handed him the bottle. "Drink."

He sipped, swallowed, and sighed. Eyes closed, head resting back against the granite wall with the fire on his right, he panted, rested. Drank again, and again, until the bottle was empty. "Mmmm. Chlorine-y sock water. So yummy."

I capped the empty bottle and stood. "I'll be back as soon as I can with more chlorine-y sock water."

"Yay." He cracked an eye at me. "You hurt?"

I shook my head. "No," I whispered. "I'm not hurt."

He shut the eye. "Good. Worth it, then."

"Jax," I whispered.

He poked at the backpack with a finger. "Maybe see about a fish? We're gonna need to eat."

"I'm so bad at fishing, though.”

"Nah. Just need patience."

"I'm not the most patient woman in the world, Jax, not sure if you've noticed."

He laughed and then broke off with a groan. "Don't make me laugh. Fucking bear. Jesus. Fuck bears,” he moaned. "Just…toss the hook upstream of where you want it to go. Tug it a little. Don't try to reel it in all at once. Tire it out. Let it swim, reel it in a bit, then let it fight some more."

"I'll do my best."

“Yeah, well, your worst is ten times better than everyone else's best, Tea. You've got it." He said this so casually, offhand and easy, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

A boiling maelstrom of emotions swirled in my gut, his blunt assessment of abilities threatening to crack open the shell keeping them in. "If you say so," I muttered, hoping he didn’t hear the shake in my voice. “Be back as soon as I can."

"Hopefully Mrs. Bear doesn’t come back to finish the job.” He gave a lopsided grin. "Joking."

"Too soon, Jax. Way too fucking soon."

"Fuck. I wish we still had that flower. I could really use something to take the edge off of the pain."

I sighed. "You're in luck." I crouched at the bag, opened the small outermost front pocket, and withdrew the Ziplock bag full of green-purple-gold nuggets of dried cannabis. "Here."

"I thought you said every ounce counts," Jax said, dragging the bag to his side.

"It does. But that's only one literal ounce. A heavy laptop is different."

"Mmm. Guess so." He smirked at me. "Gonna roll a blunt for me?"

I snorted. "Not likely, bub. For one, you wouldn't want me to. You'll get some Dr. Seuss lookin' shit."

He laughed until it turned into a groan. "Fuck me, woman—sorry, Tea. Stop making me laugh." He winced, wheezing another soft moan. "Now you find your sense of humor, when it literally feels like the bear is clawing me all over again every time I fucking laugh."

He shivered as a cool breeze knifed across the campsite, and I snagged the flannel he’d been wearing and settled it on his shoulders. It was shredded where the bear’s claws had ripped through the fabric, but it would keep him warm. Plus, being a button-down, I could help him into it without having to make him put his arms overhead, which I knew would hurt like a bitch.

“There. Now sit tight. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I headed out in search of the river, which I knew wasn't far from our camp; we'd had to cut across it to keep our course.

I came to it, and here, it was wide and slow-moving and deep. I got the water bottle filled and filtered and purified, and then found the nasty sock full of mud, dirt, and wriggling worms. I speared one on the hook, found a promising spot a few yards upstream, and tossed the hook into the tannin-brown water under an overhanging shrub—a spot very similar to where Jax had caught the last fish.

I tugged and tugged and let it float, tugged it back…I exercised patience for at least five whole minutes.

I tried another spot for a while, further upstream, then downstream.