Page 25 of Searching Blind

“No.” His lips curved into a smile as they brushed her temple. “My Lucy. Always so pragmatic.”

Warmth curled through her belly. Had he just claimed her as his?

“No, I meant the sunrise. Describe it for me?”

She looked toward the east. “It’s still mostly dark out here, but there’s this warm promise of light just at the edge of the mountains. The clouds are like... wisps of cotton candy, all pink and orange and purple.”

He groaned. “Jesus, I’d give a body part for some cotton candy right now.”

“Sweet tooth, huh?” She’d never have guessed it. From the hard lines of his body, she’d pegged him for a health food fanatic. The kind of guy who bought dry-as-dirt granola and tried to convince you it was as good as a candy bar. She’d dated more than her share of that type.

He grinned. “Sugar is my kryptonite. But don’t tell anyone and ruin my rugged, man-of-the-wilderness facade.”

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it.” She took a deep breath, the pine-scented air filling her lungs. “The trees are still in shadows, but they’re beginning to take on different shades of green, from the deepest emerald to a light sage. And the sunlight... it’s like melted gold, pouring over everything slowly, lighting up the world bit by bit.”

His fingers brushed against hers. “Sounds beautiful.”

“It is.”

“You love it these mountains. I can hear it in your voice.”

“I do. I’m from Ohio originally, but my parents brought me out here to see the redwoods when I was about ten, and I fell in love. I wrapped my little arms around the biggest tree I could find and knew right then I wanted to work here.”

His lips curved into a smile at her temple. “This place… it has a way of captivating people.”

“It does. I’ve seen it time and again. And until last year, I always felt most at peace in the woods. Most at home. There’s an honesty in nature that people lack. It’s raw and beautiful and...”

“Unforgiving,” he finished.

She turned to look at him. His face was cast in the early morning light now, his blue eyes reflecting the sunrise he couldn’t see.

“Yes,” she agreed softly. “It can be unforgiving and brutal, but nature doesn’t kill just because it can. Not like people.” She realized he was looking at her instead of out at the horizon. Well, not exactly at her, but in her direction. His expression was quiet, contemplative.

“I wish you didn’t have to know that firsthand.”

“Me too.” She glanced down at Zelda who lay patiently between them with her head resting on Sawyer’s thigh, brown eyes soft and tail wagging.

“The Shadow Stalker is dead, Lucy.” He said it softly, gently, as if worried the name might trigger her. His fingers tracing over the back of her hand. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

She cleared away the sudden knot in her throat. “I know that, but…”

“But,” he finished when she trailed off, “the fear doesn’t just disappear because the threat is gone. I get it. After what happened to me, I had nightmares for years. Still do sometimes, honestly. I saw his face all the time—the sniper who shot me. Of course, I never actually saw his real face, but my fucked-up brain decided to fill in the blanks. One of the other fun side effects of an occipital lobe injury is hallucinations. They’ve mostly disappeared now, but for a while I saw that sniper everywhere. He was the only thing I could see. Just a blur of light and color and then there he was, crystal clear. I thought he was real, and I was afraid of every shadow, every unexpected sound. It took a lot of therapy and time to feel safe again. But there are still moments when I feel on edge, when all the progress I’ve made seems to vanish.”

God, what he’d gone through. Her heart ached for him. And, really, her experience, as awful as it was, paled in comparison. Why couldn’t she just suck it up and move on like he had?

But…

“I have nightmares all the time. I close my eyes and I’m back in that damn cave, shot and bleeding. Cold. Alone.” The thought made her sick, and she had to swallow back the bile rising in her throat.

“Hey, come here.” He traced his hand up her arm to curl around her waist. He pulled her into his side, and she let herself be pulled, sinking into the warmth and security he offered. Zelda shifted back to make room, and Lucy curled up against Sawyer, nestling into his side. His other arm slid around her, too, until he was completely encompassing her.

“You weren’t alone in that cave,” he murmured into her hair. “You had me. And you have me now.”

The words seemed to hang in the air between them for a moment, charged with something she didn’t dare name. And then he was gently tilting her chin up. It felt like the world narrowed down to just this moment, everything else forgotten.

His thumb brushed back and forth over her lips, a quiet, almost reverent touch as if he were memorizing their shape. A jolt of electricity sizzled down her spine, lighting her body on fire in a way she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. She found herself leaning into him. Their noses brushed against each other’s in a feather-like touch before Sawyer’s lips found hers in the gentlest of kisses.

Her heart pounded wildly as Sawyer’s hand moved up to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. It was disarming and sweet, the gesture so full of care that it brought tears to her eyes. She’d missed him more than she ever admitted to herself. She’d spent the last year worrying that the connection they’d shared had been nothing more than a trauma response, a fleeting, desperate grasp at humanity during a nightmarish ordeal. But this...

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