Page 53 of Unwanted

He didn’t answer. Who was he going to tell? As far as he knew, he might go his whole life never talking to anyone except Isaac Driscoll again.

“Let me walk you to—”

“No.” She took a quick glance around the room they were in, her eyes moving over the ceiling like she was looking for something. “I’m fine now.” She walked to his front door and opened it, turning around after she’d stepped onto his porch. He stood in the doorway, watching her. She gave him a shaky smile, reaching her hand out. He looked at it, not knowing what she wanted. “Shake my hand, Jak. This is what people do.”

He reached his hand out and took hers, and she grasped his hand, holding on and moving her eyes up and to the side like she was telling him to look somewhere with her eyes. But before he could figure what she was telling him to look at, she pulled him to her, and as she hugged him, she whispered, “There’s a camera in that tree behind me. Don’t make it obvious you know it’s there. I saw one down by the river too as I was on my way to you.”

On your way to me? “Camera?” he whispered. A camera took…pictures. He remembered. He remembered that word.

“You’re being watched. Please don’t tell anyone about me.”

Before he could ask her anything, she turned and ran away, going through the trees toward the road in the not too faraway.

He watched her until she disappeared, his heart pounding. They’re watching you. What did that mean? Watched by who? I saw one down by the river too. A camera. A camera watched.

Jak closed the door and then sat in his cabin, doing the numbers his baka had taught him in the long ago as he tried to clear his mind and slow his speeding heart. What is going on? He counted to one thousand, twice, and then took his bow and arrows and his coat and went back outside. He took a few steps in the snow and then bent down like he was fixing something on his boot, but while his hands moved on a tie, he looked upward through his hair that hid his face.

He didn’t know what he was looking for, and it was a few minutes before he saw a small flash of something dark that was not a material found in the forest high up in the branches of the tree. He stood, putting his bow and arrows on his back again and walking toward the river.

His thoughts rolled and jumped like a downhill stream as he tried to make sense of what was happening with what was too little knowing.

Should he ask Driscoll? Maybe he was being watched too. But Jak threw away the thought. He hated the man, and he’d been trading with him for less and less as the winters had passed. Jak had either figured out how to do without things he’d gotten before from Driscoll, or he’d learned to make them himself using things he could find in the forest.

For all he knew, Driscoll was the one watching him. His skin prickled. Driscoll is bad. He’d known that, though, figured it out a long time ago. But…what did Jak have to fear from Driscoll’s badness, whatever it was? Jak was way stronger than him now, though he’d never tried to hurt Jak even when he wasn’t.

The river came up, the low roar of the icy water splashing over rocks and around small raised pieces of land in the middle. He’d bet there was a name for those, but he didn’t know what it was. He’d bet there was a name for everything, if he only knew where he could find the answers. The notes had given him lots of new words, ones he had to figure out the meaning for by how they were used. But he was good at figuring things out—he always had been.

Jak took off the bow and arrows from his back and sat on a fallen tree. He took out one of the arrows and picked up a flat rock from the ground and started pretending to sharpen the arrow as his eyes moved around, looking here and there, in a way someone watching him couldn’t tell.

It took him a long time before he saw the tiny flash of dark something that didn’t belong. It was in another tree to the side of the river bank. He’d have never seen it if he wasn’t looking for it. It was high up in one of the evergreens—just like the one in the front of his house—that stayed green all year round, so it’d never be uncovered by falling leaves.

His head spun. What does this mean?

Chapter Thirty

Harper opened both eyes, blinking around. Reality filtered in in small pieces. An ice storm. No signal. Missed shift. Lucas. No, Jak. “Damn,” she whispered, concern bringing her fully out of sleep and prompting her to sit up and look around. Her head turned immediately to the bed where Jak had slept the night before, but it was empty.

Why did she always sleep so hard when she couldn’t manage more than a few hours at a time at home? Because you’re alone. Listening for…danger. All right, so she knew the problem, just not how to fix it. Apparently her subconscious felt no danger here, though, and she slept soundly. There was a piece of fur on the floor under her, and she’d been kept warm by his blanket once again, while he’d slept without it. She’d tried to resist taking his blanket, but Jak had simply shaken his head and shoved it at her. She’d eased her guilt by telling herself he was right by the fire. And he was bigger than her. Quite a lot bigger.

Where was he? Harper got up, pulling on her boots and her jacket and opening the door to his cabin. She sucked in a small gasp as she took in the surroundings: a world shimmering and sparkling and seemingly made entirely of ice.

She took a tentative step outside, awestruck by the gleaming forest floor and the icicle-laden tree branches. It felt like a wonderland, and a spark of childlike delight flared inside her. She took the steps slowly, holding the railing, being careful not to slip. Her feet crunched into the thin layer of ice covering the snow as she walked around the side of his house, headed toward the outdoor “facilities.”

When she stepped around the corner, she came to an immediate halt, her eyes widening as her mouth opened on a sudden intake of air. Jak was standing in the snow, shirtless, his jeans still unbuttoned and resting low on his hips, rubbing a piece of cloth over his wet hair. He raised his head at the small sound of surprise, the cloth he held lowering as his blue eyes speared her.

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I didn’t know”—she raised her hand, indicating his half state of undress—“that you were, um…” She tried to look away, she really did, but his shoulders were so broad, his chest so beautifully sculpted, each muscle defined, his skin reddened from the cold, his small, flat nipples—

“Showering?”

“What?”

He looked at her in confusion, his brows knitting together. “I was showering.”

“In the snow?”

He moved closer, and it surprised her that she experienced no impulse to move away. “I have to if I want to stay clean in the winter.”

“Yes. Oh, of course. It’s just… It looks very…uh…uh…”

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