Page 23 of Lost in You

“Thank you.” She gets up from the couch and limps to the storage room.

Even with the biggest pot the cabin’s kitchen has, it’s going to take me a long fucking time to fill up the tub. And then the snow has to melt, which will move faster if the heating element works.

Is this what the cabin’s owner does? I’m starting to think this cabin has never gotten much use. Maybe someone built it as an escape if the world goes to shit, and they’ve never actually had to fill this tub.

Trinity’s busy at the kitchen stove, my gaze wandering to her every time I bring in a pot of snow to dump in the tub. I catch a glimpse of her expression and sense again that something’s wrong.

She’s in more pain than she’s letting on, but I don’t know if it’s from her ankle or her headache.

“Hey, why don’t you sit back down and I’ll finish that?” I say.

She turns to look at me. “No, I’m okay.”

I should accept her answer and return to filling the tub, but I hate the thought of her hurting.

“It doesn’t bother me at all, you know. If I’m doing more than you are. You’ve got a jacked ankle and a headache.”

“I’m fine. Keeping busy helps me push past it. Just lying in bed all the time isn’t good for me.”

I set down the pot and walk over to her. “Helps you push past what? Is it the ankle or the headache?”

A flicker of annoyance passes over her expression. “I said I’m fine.”

What’s with her? Why won’t she just tell me what’s bothering her?

“If there’s something going on with you, I need to know about it.”

She scoffs. “Why?”

“Because...we’re in this together.”

She takes a deep breath, pinching her brows together. “I’m trying to be in a better mood, okay? And while I’ve felt better, we were in a plane crash almost a week ago. I think eating might help, so I’m going to finish making our food.”

I nod, not liking it but trying to give her space. The lack of food has taken a toll on me, so maybe that’s what’s going on with her, too. I don’t think so, though. It’s all I can do not to tell her to strip down so I can inspect every inch of her and make sure she doesn’t have an infected cut somewhere or something.

Nothing is as simple here as it would be at home. I can’t take her to a hospital for antibiotics. But I can’t force her to tell me what’s going on, either. All I can do is wait, which isn’t easy for me. I solve problems and never avoid dealing with things head-on.

Fighting won’t help anything, though, so I return to filling the tub. About half an hour later, Trinity announces that it’s time to eat.

I sit at the kitchen table, my mouth watering when she sets down a plate of hot white rice covered with chili. Her plate only has about a cup of rice and a cup of dried bananas.

“You need protein,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “This is what I’m eating. I don’t think the chili would agree with my stomach.”

“But--”

She cuts me off. “Let’s just eat, Lincoln.”

I hold her gaze for a few seconds, something I see in her eyes making me back down. “Call me Linc. All my friends do.”

She sits down. “Am I your friend?”

I grin at her. “With this meal, you just became my best friend. How’d you do this?”

“With the hot plate I found in one of the kitchen cabinets. It took forever to boil the water and cook the rice, and it’s just canned chili, but it’s better than beef jerky and protein bars.”

“Much better. Thanks for making it.”

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