Page 57 of Stuck with My Bossy Protector

“I want those onion rings you get at crappy bars,” he replies. “You know the kind I’m talking about. They’re huge and crunchy. Washing them down with a cold beer and shooting some pool sounds like heaven right now.”

“And I want a big slice of apple pie,” I sigh. “Or a bowl of my mom’s chicken and dumplings. Real comfort food: that’s what I miss.”

Noah grins. “Your mom sounds like a great cook.”

“She is,” I nod.

The conversation continues to flow, distracting us from our physical discomfort and the echo of fear that haunts the back of our minds. We reminisce about our childhoods, about family and friends, about the dreams we had as children, determined not to dwell on the danger we find ourselves in. I realize I’m not as cold as I was. Or I’m hypothermic and no longer feel the cold.

He tells me about a flight he made way up north. I love listening to him. His voice is soothing. It’s something I’ve come to need. Him. He’s what I need. I argue with myself about whether it’s real attraction or the circumstances because, honestly, in this life-or-death situation, I genuinely do need him.

My thoughts wander to our time in the cabin and the sex. My mind keeps drifting, trying to remember when I got my last birth control shot. “Oh crap.”

“What’s wrong?” Noah asks with concern.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Are you hurt? Did you hear something?”

“No,” I groan. Do I tell him? He does have a right to know. “I was just thinking about something.”

“What?”

“So, remember when I said I was on birth control?”

He stops walking and looks at me. “Yes, I remember that very clearly.”

“I might have been wrong.”

“How can you maybe be wrong?” he asks.

“I travel a lot, and honestly, I don’t have much sex. I thought I got my shot a few months ago, but it was longer than that.”

He nods, but I can see he’s still not getting it. “Okay.”

“It just means I’m not actually on birth control at the moment.”

His face is blank—no expression. Finally, he nods. “Okay. We need to keep moving.”

I keep pace with him. “For what it’s worth, the doctor did tell me it takes months or even a year to get pregnant once I stop taking it.”

“Okay.”

I frown. “Are you freaking out?”

“A little.”

I can’t help but smile. “We’re on the run from dangerous drug dealers that want you dead and my ex, who has already killed two people, and this is what freaks you out?”

He gives me a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I guess when you put it that way.”

We walk in silence for a while. The sunrise is beautiful, providing another distraction. Birds are chirping, and, in the distance, a deer peeks out from behind a tree. It’s strange how the world can seem so peaceful and normal when your life is anything but. It’s a little warmer, and I love being able to see, but I realize that means we’re easily seen. The daylight brings a new level of danger.

“We’ll keep following this stream,” Noah says, interrupting my thoughts. “That’ll ensure we get to town.”

“What if they are waiting in town for us?”

“I don’t think they’re going to want to make a scene with witnesses,” he replies. “And I can guarantee you the people in town aren’t going to be unarmed.”

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