Page 21 of Unwanted

“I’m fine. I have a fire.”

She still felt a little guilty, but not guilty enough to freeze to death in her truck in the middle of the woods. “Right. Okay, then. Thank you. I’ll see you at sunrise.” She jogged down the steps and back to her truck, where she brought the blanket around her shoulders and body. It smelled like him. Like—she leaned her head forward and inhaled the edge of the thick, scratchy material—mountain air and male skin? No, that sounded like a bad deodorant commercial. She inhaled again, more deeply this time. It was…nice, and it caused little flutters in her stomach. It wasn’t soapy or piney or any of those descriptors she’d usually use for the way a man smelled. It was clean, and she was glad because she’d initially questioned his hygiene—which in hindsight might have been rude, even if it was only in her own mind—but his scent was clean in a natural way. Like he bathed in a stream and dried his body in the sun and—

Oh God, shut up, Harper. She dropped the blanket from her nose and leaned her head back against the seat. No wonder I don’t sleep. My damn brain will not turn off.

Also, she was freezing. She tightened the blanket around her, her teeth beginning to chatter. The tip of her nose felt like an ice cube. Her mind turned again to the tiny foxes in the den she’d run over, and her heart stuttered as she thought about how cold they must be, their helpless little bodies covered in snow, ice matted in their fur. Had their mother returned?

Harper got out of her truck and trudged back to the den at the base of a massive pine tree. She turned on the light on her phone and angled it away so it wasn’t shining directly in the den but she could still see the small creatures inside.

A quiet growl sounded from within, and Harper took a step back but leaned her head farther forward. Inside the den, the mother lay nursing her babies, snarling softly, a warning not to come any closer. “I won’t,” she whispered. “You’re safe.” She took one last moment to gaze at them, dry and cozy, and then switched off the light, moving away.

Harper couldn’t help the tears that began streaming down her face. She wasn’t sure why the emotion had overcome her so swiftly, but it had, and now she stood there, crying softly in the snow, the dark night engulfing her.

She felt so intensely…alone.

“You can sleep inside if you want.”

She whirled toward his voice, turning on her light again. He squinted, so she lowered it, swiping at the tears on her cheeks, embarrassed to have been caught crying over a fox den. Embarrassed to have been caught crying at all. How had he snuck up on her like that anyway?

“She came back,” Harper said quietly. She inclined her head toward the den. “The mother.”

He paused for a moment. “Good.”

She shivered again, and he nodded toward her truck. “Bring your gun and sleep inside.” And with that, he turned, heading back to his house but leaving the door open. It looked warm in there—warm and lit by candlelight. Cozy.

She grabbed the blanket from the truck, pressing her lips together as she considered the rifle. It felt rude to take it inside when he was offering her a warm place to sleep, even though he didn’t have to. But… Well, he was still a stranger and a wildcat and a person of interest in a murder investigation. Not to mention, lots of bad things in this world had happened to girls because they were worried about appearing rude. She grabbed the weapon and walked up his steps and through his door, closing it behind her.

“Thank you. I, um… You won’t even know I’m here.”

He looked confused. “I’ll know you’re here.”

“I just mean I won’t be any bother.” She considered the three empty beds, but none of them had mattresses, and sleeping on bare metal springs didn’t seem comfortable at all, and so she sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and laying her gun on the floor next to her. She wrapped herself in the blanket again and let out a pretend yawn so he’d know she was all taken care of. “This is very nice of you,” she said. “If I can repay your kindness in some way, let me know.”

She swore she saw his lips tilt slightly, but then he turned away, lying on his own bed, his back to her. “If you could try not to shoot me in my sleep, that would be good,” he said without turning, and she swore she heard a smile in his voice. Was he joking with her? The idea shocked her, but it also caused a burst of pleasure too.

“I promise I won’t,” she said, and she could hear the smile in her own voice before she realized there was one on her lips.

His shoulder moved slightly, but he didn’t answer, and after a moment she closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth enveloping her, her shivering ceasing completely.

She was comfortable, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Harper had trouble sleeping in general, much less sitting against a stranger’s wall with said stranger sleeping twenty feet from her. Yet, despite the cabin and its lack of refinement, she felt comfortable. Was it the fire? The man? The deep, enfolding silence of the forest surrounding them? Or was it that she felt peace? Always together, never apart.

No, she wouldn’t sleep, but thank God she was warm. Content. And there were only a handful of hours until dawn.

Chapter Fourteen

Ribbons of powder. Puffs of wind. Both dancing across the frosty field. Jak stepped through it, moving around the buried rocks and hidden holes he knew by memory.

Driscoll’s house came into view, smoke trailing from the chimney, and Jak picked up his pace, moving quickly through the falling snow. He didn’t like visiting Driscoll. He did it as little as possible, but there were some things he didn’t want to do without, now that winter had arrived.

Especially matches.

He could cook now but chose not to. When he did that, he couldn’t taste the life in it anymore. He remembered his baka had talked about vitamins and minerals, and maybe those were the same thing. Now that words were hardly ever in his mouth, Jak had learned that pictures in his head explained things better. He saw vitamins and minerals like tiny grains of life that flowed through the living being, and when you ate them, you could taste all the things that animal had experienced. Its life flowed into you and, in that way, never really stopped living. Life went on and on and on. Never stopping.

But he didn’t want to go back to a winter without the warmth of fire, even though he now had a roof over his head, a blanket, and Pup’s body heat. Warmth was worth the walk—and worth a few minutes with Driscoll. Jak didn’t like him though. He got a cold, sweaty feeling whenever he was around him. He hated how Driscoll’s eyes got all squirrelly and the way he watched Jak’s every move. Jak had learned to tell when there was a predator nearby, not just by the snapping of a twig under its step or the stink of its fur as it drew close. He knew from the whispery feeling inside and the way the small hairs on the back of his neck stood up when something dangerous was stalking him.

He got that feeling when he was around Driscoll.

The man had never done anything other than trade supplies with him, and yet…that feeling stayed. Jak figured that whatever Driscoll did in town to get supplies, it was probably sneaky and full of lies.

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