Page 7 of Finding Limits

I last two hours before I feel the walls closing in on me and even picking up a book and turning on the television doesn’t prevent me from thinking about the long, torturous hours that I’d spend staring into the black. The phone is right there on the table. I could easily call Josie. I know how to use the phone now. I could even text her, but I decide to push through and try to be brave. Having Josie here as my babysitter can’t go on forever, and as sad as it makes me to admit, Mitch can’t either.

It’s past six when Mitch steps through the door. He’s looking worn out and is covered in dirt, but it feels a little bit easier to breathe now he’s home.

“Evenin’, darlin’.” He smiles at me as he hangs up his hat and heads straight for the refrigerator.

I keep stirring the soup I made for us and try to ignore the tiny butterflies he puts in my stomach every time he comes near. I’ve never felt anything like it before and I know it can’t be nerves because nothing about this man scares me. In fact, I find everything about Mitch fascinating. Like the way his beard has grey streaks that match his hair, and the way his dark eyes watch me sometimes. I love the way he sings in the shower and how his fingers look when they play his guitar. But most of all, I like how safe I feel when I’m around him.

The night he brought me here, he told me he’d never let anyone hurt me, and the look he had on his face and the tone of his voice made me believe him. Mitch isn’t perfect, I sense a darkness inside him and I know that, just like the Soul men, he would take a life if he had to. That’s what makes me so confident in his word.

“How did things go with Samantha?” he asks me as he washes the dirt off his hands and scrubs his face over in the basin.

“The usual.” I shrug, knowing that he’d like to report better back to Jimmer.

“And what do we have tonight?” He keeps his distance as he looks over my shoulder.

“It’s some kind of soup, I got the recipe from one of the cookbooks the girls sent with Josie.” I smile back at him. I’ve never met the girls who live on the ranch, but they show me kindness. When I first arrived they sent me clothes through Josie and an open invitation to visit them whenever I feel up to it. When I mentioned to Josie that I felt bad for cooking Mitch my same recipes, she must have mentioned it to them because she came back the next day with this book.

“Smells good.” I turn to look over my shoulder, not realizing how close he is, and when we bump noses I drop the spoon in my hand and spill hot soup all over my dress.

“Shit! I’m sorry.” Mitch steps back, while I waft the fabric that's burning my skin, trying to cool it off. He rushes to the basin and grabs a cloth, soaking it with water, and I freeze when he goes to grab my dress. His hand wraps around my waist to steady me as he wipes the front of it with the damp cloth and I feel every beat my heart makes as his strokes ease the burn.

He’s acted on impulse and when he realizes, his strokes slow right down and his eyes look up at me.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly releases me, taking a step back and holding out the cloth for me to take. “I… just…”

“Thank you.” I take it from him and wipe myself over. “I should chang?—”

“Yeah, you do that and I’ll clean up here.” He looks down at the spoon and the splattered soup that’s all over the floor. All of a sudden things feel really awkward between us. Why am I so surprised that him holding me like that felt exactly like I imagined it would? And why am I so desperate for him to do it again?

I smile at him before I scurry off to change my dress.

Ifucked up, I heard her yell in pain and I went into autopilot to fix the problem. I forgot the rules, I touched her and now she’s freaking out. We may not have made a lot of progress over the past few months, but there've been little things that have made all the difference. She talks, not all that much, but enough. She smiles, and I’ve been getting the feeling just lately that she’s content with her life here.

I swear, the other day I heard her humming while she was changing the sheets on her bed.

I know how fragile she is, that anything around her could be a trigger, and what I just let happen could have set her right back.

She comes back out the bedroom in a pair of jeans and a tee, looking at me awkwardly through her lashes as she steps back in front of the stove.

“Look, Ev. I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s fine, you were helping me.” She smiles.

“Yeah, but I forgot and I’m so?—”

“Please, don’t apologize, you were being kind. I’m okay,” she assures me with a soft whisper that I want so desperately to believe.

We eat our dinner in silence, and as I watch her sip her soup from her spoon, I can’t help wondering what's going on in her head.

She’s clearly trying to be brave, and the thought of her not feeling safe here anymore is making me nervous.

“That was great.” I lift up both our bowls, taking them to the basin when we’re finished, and she quickly gets up from her chair and comes after me.

“No, I’ll clean these. You rest.” She snatches them off me frantically.

“I got it, darlin’, why don’t ya see if there's anythin’ decent on?” I nod my head toward the TV in the corner.

“Please, you need to let me do it.” She keeps a firm grip on the dishes, shocking me with her determination. Up until now, all I’ve seen from this girl is meekness.

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