Page 25 of Loud Unspoken Memories

He says it like he’s not going to see me for a while. Considering he was just outside for hours, it stings a bit to know he’s choosing to go out in the weather again versus being stuck inside with me. Maybe I was reading too much into those ‘looks’ I thought he was giving me. I guess going as long as I have without dating has made me seriously question my ability to read men.

Through the window, Bex and I watch Dallas diligently chainsaw through the massive tree limb, then cut it up into small pieces, adding it to his ever-growing pile.

I get the idea he uses chopping wood as exercise.

Or an escape. But an escape from what, exactly?

My eyes fall upon the door of his hobby room, and I wonder if all the answers lie behind that old, wood plank door.

I’m not sure how long I sit on the couch and gaze out the window. I lose all track of time and become entranced watching Dallas as Bex lies contently next to me, his head on my thigh as he’s a most happy recipient of all my petting attention.

Dallas stands straight up, stretches his back, and wipes sweat from his brow. He looks over, catching me staring at him. Our eyes meet. He’s at least thirty feet away, but he might as well be right in front of me with how our gazes seem to connect.I don’t blink. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. Something passes between us. Something profound. It’s like desperation, sorrow, and… passion. An odd combination. But nothing about this situation has been normal, why should the way we look at each other be?

He turns away sharply, as if remembering something, and goes back to chopping wood.

“Come on, Bex,” I say, patting his head. “Let’s make dinner.”

~ ~ ~

Ninety minutes later, I’m putting away the last of the clean dishes.

We ate in relative silence, the only sounds being the hum of the generator and the occasional grunt from Bex as he implored us to drop scraps off the table.

Maybe Dallas was worn out from all the hiking and wood chopping. Maybe he was thinking about Abe, or what he’s going to do with Bex. Or maybe he was wondering how long he’s going to be stuck with me.

By the time darkness falls, I’ve convinced myself that nothing passed between us earlier and I was reading far too much into what was probably only a few-second glance and not some deep connection between our souls.

Bex is staring at the front door. I pull on the coat Dallas loaned me earlier. “I’m going to take him out.”

Dallas looks up from his laptop. “I’ll do it.”

“You’ve been outside all day. I don’t mind, really.”

“Don’t go far.”

His eyes hold mine for a moment and the feeling from earlier comes rushing back. I wasn’t imagining things. Thereissomething passing between us.

Then suddenly, he averts his eyes, slams the lid to his laptop, and walks across the room, hand on the doorknob to hishobby room. “Don’t wait up,” he says, then he disappears behind the door.

“What was that?” I ask Bex.

He doesn’t answer. He just nudges my hand with his snout.

“Okay, boy. Let’s go.”

Hours later, I feel Dallas get into bed. I keep my eyes closed and try not to move. The urge to look at him is strong, though I don’t know how much I’d be able to see by the dim light of the fire. I lay still and pretend I’m sleeping until I don’t feel any movement or hear any rustling of covers.

How long has it been? Five minutes? Ten?

When I open my eyes, my breath hitches. Dallas is lying three feet away, his head on his pillow, and he’s staring directly at me. Flames from the fire dance in his eyes. Warmth spreads throughout my entire body as if it were ninety degrees in here instead of sixty.

If circumstances were different, and we weren’t being forced to be together in this small cabin and in this sole bed, I might scoot over and snuggle into him. Let him know I was open to whatever seems to be happening between us. But we aren’t here by choice, only by necessity. And that changes things.

Maybe he can’t tell I’m awake. The fire is behind me. It’s possible he can’t see me staring back at him.

I’m frozen, lost in his eyes. His sad, sexy, dark, intriguing eyes.

Those eyes move away from my face and focus on my chest. Last night I slept in all my clothes. But it was far from comfortable. Tonight, being more confident that I’m not going to be murdered, I put on my normal sleep pants and cami and snuggled under his thick blankets. Those blankets must have fallen away, my shoulders and neck now exposed to the cool cabin air.

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