Page 42 of Burn Point

Finally, the storm passed, I unclenched my grip on him, and relaxed a little. He kept stroking my hair.

When I could finally speak, I whispered, “You’re here.”

For a long time, I sat there clutching him to me, sharing his warmth. Just as I was drifting off, he shifted, his voice a low whisper in my ear. “Come on, let’s get you back into bed now. The storm is over.”

I nodded but didn’t let go. He unclenched my fingers and rose, picking me up off the floor and laying me gently on my brand-new bed. He drew back as if to leave, and panic raced through me.

“Please, don’t leave me. Please, stay with me,” I whispered, reaching for him.

I searched the dark for any sign of him, then heard his soft sigh. “Scoot over.”

I slid over, making room for him. He settled next to me, slipping an arm around my shoulders. I turned to him and buried my face in his neck.

Breathing in the safe scent of Nate, I drifted to sleep.

I woke to the delicious warmth of another person in my bed. I was snug and cozy, and I didn’t want to move, but unfortunately, now that I was awake, I needed to pee.

Nate shifted next to me, rolling to his back with a full body stretch, arms bunched up by his head, back bowed, belly hollowing out under the snug t-shirt. What a shame he was wearing a shirt, depriving me the chance to see those muscles flex and stretch.

He dropped his chin, facing me with a soft smile. “Morning, Skippy.”

I returned his smile sheepishly, feeling foolish for being afraid of some wind and rain. “Morning slick. Thanks for coming last night. And staying.” I studied his face, looking for any remains of the aloof jerk that my friend had become in the last week. At least he was back to calling me by that stupid nickname.

His warm eyes traveled my face. “You’re welcome. But I have a question. What are you going to do when you are on the road and a storm comes?”

I rolled to my back. We slipped so easily into comfortable companionship. My foot brushed his, and I played footsie with him while I considered his question. “I don’t know. Freak out?”

He shifted to his side, bracing on his elbow, head propped in his hand. “Seriously, Jordan. What are you going to do? You had a full-on panic attack.”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out as I go. But for now, I need you to move your big ass. I need to pee.”

He rolled to the edge and sat up so I could get by him. I did my business, not even caring that the attractive man just outside the door could hear me.

When I came out, he had the bed made and was standing by the door.

“So. I guess this is it.” I checked my watch. He was scheduled to be on duty in an hour. “I guess I won’t be here when you get home tomorrow morning.”

“This was a trial run, right?”

I took in his pained expression. We’d lost so much by not communicating over the week. I hated myself as I admitted, “I had planned on it at first. But now it seems like I should just go.”

He nodded, looking everywhere around the van but at me. And we were right back to awkward again.

“Will you be back?” he asked the floor.

“Sure. At some point,” I said lightly. Trying not to dwell on the fact that this was goodbye.

He nodded again and swallowed. “Fuck,” he muttered, then stepped to me, wrapping his arms tightly around my shoulders and burying his face in my neck. I slipped my hands around his waist and held tight. For a long minute, I basked in the feel of him. Memorizing how his arms felt wrapped around me, basking in safety and security. How his smell calmed me. Tears pricked my eyes. This was so hard. But I had to do it. I had to say goodbye.

With a kiss to my cheek, he released me and cupped my face with his hand. “Look after yourself, Skippy. And don’t be a stranger.” After a lingering kiss to my forehead, he walked out the door.

That afternoon, with a semi-broken heart and filled with anticipation, I pulled out of his drive. After gassing up, I plugged in the coordinates of my campsite and hit the road. I got to camp and got set up, spending some time chilling by a gently flowing creek. I worked, I read. I made myself a campfire.

I decided my van needed a name and came up with Pearl.

I shot Leah and Nate a text, letting them know I’d made it and was fine. The service indicator on my phone showed that I had one bar, but my messages weren’t going through. Not having cell service was unsettling.

I glanced at the approaching night sky. No clouds were present, and the weather app had shown no rain for a couple of days. No threat of a panic attack.

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