Page 33 of Desperation

“Not if we have a USB cable.” I dug into my purse, praying I grabbed my charger, and I nearly wept with joy when I found it. I showed it to Devon, and he hopped out, opening the rear door to unearth a black leather satchel out from beneath my bags. Returning to his seat, he got his laptop out and opened it, powering it up. It didn’t take long for him to connect my phone and start the process.

In the meantime, Jameson began to cry, letting out little mewls to let me know he was hungry. “I need to feed him.” Concluding he’d probably need a diaper too, I grabbed supplies from his bag and unbuckled him, bringing him up front with me. I changed him in my lap, a difficult task considering how much he’d grown. When I lifted my shirt to nurse him, Devon stiffened. He wasn’t watching me, but he was aware of what I was doing. “It’s okay. You’re not going to see anything,” I assured him, stifling a laugh.

“Oh, uh … okay,” he stammered. “I can always step out when you need to do that if you’d like. I don’t want to invade your privacy.”

I chuckled. “I’m just feeding him. It’s completely natural.”

“Oh no, I didn't mean—” he began, his face blanching. “Ah, shit. I don’t have a problem with it. I just don't want to see your breasts.” My mouth dropped open in shock, and his eyes widened, his face turning redder by the second. “I mean, Idowant to see your breasts; I just didn’t think you would… Shit. That didn’t come out right.” I laughed then, an unattractive guffaw ending in a snort. And it felt good, amazing really. I hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.

“Gah,” he groaned, pulling his fingers through his hair. It was entertaining to see him so flustered, the usually cool, calm, and collected badass SEAL getting embarrassed over my boobs.

“I guess it’s good you don’t mind seeing them because he nurses pretty often.” I switched Jameson to the other side, and Devon stared pointedly out the windshield.

I gently laid my sleeping baby back in his car seat and buckled him in, while Devon put his laptop away and finished disabling my phone. We were still almost two hours from our destination, and I dozed off and on the whole way, the low hum of soft music lulling me into a relaxed and placid state.

There was a light dusting of snow covering the ground around the cabin. It was colder up here in the mountains, but I would tolerate it if it meant breaking free of Drake.

We carried our bags inside, and Devon turned on the gas logs. “Looks like there’s a furnace too,” he said, studying the panel on the wall. The cabin wasn’t the primitive shelter I’d been imagining, but was instead quite modernized. I placed Jameson’s carrier on the floor and glanced around the space.

“I need to call Mark and let him know we’ve made it,” Devon announced after carrying the bassinet in and setting it up in the bedroom. He disappeared through the door to make the call, and I wondered what he’d say. Would he tell Mark, his benevolent boss who offered this place up without a moment’s notice, the whole story about what Drake did to me? He returned a minute later, not nearly long enough to divulge the whole story.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. I nodded emphatically. I was starved. We hadn’t taken the time to stop for anything to eat for the two of us on the way up here. “Mark assured me the pantry was stocked with nonperishables. It isn’t gourmet, but it will keep us from starving.” He shrugged then reached for my hand and pulled me to my feet. He was strong, and I was lighter than the last time he touched me. I careened into his chest as he pulled me up. I braced my hands on his taut abdomen, my fingers curling into the hard ridges hidden beneath his hoodie.

“Whoa, you okay?”

“Yeah.” My voice came out breathy and unfamiliar. Heat spread up my arms and settled into my chest. I stepped away, breaking the contact before it could travel any farther. That was the last thing I was thinking about. The last thing Ishouldbe thinking about.

He turned from me and stalked toward the kitchen. I followed close behind him, impatient to find provisions. We unearthed a stash of spaghetti sauce and pasta. I could work with that. He filled a pot with water and brought it to the stove to boil while I warmed the sauce.

“I can run out for supplies in the morning,” Devon informed me over plates of spaghetti. There was no meat in the sauce, but it was warm and filling, nonetheless. “Do you need anything for Jameson?”

“It depends on how long we’re going to be here.”

Devon grimaced. “You’ll need to call Drake from the sat phone and let him know you’re safe and that you aren't coming back. And we need to document your injuries.” Another wince. I gulped. There would be photographic proof of what he’d done to me, of my bruised and battered face. “Assuming you intend to press charges.” Would I press charges? I knew I should, but could I? Drake could lose his job, his livelihood. He’d hate me forever. Would he never stop coming after me then? And what if the charges didn’t stick? What if they accused me of lying, and he took my son away?

My hands clutched my chest, fingernails clawing at my shirt. I couldn’t breathe. The endless possibilities and scenarios suffocated me.

“Hannah?” Devon’s worried expression filled my vision. I stood from the table, chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. “Hannah,” he repeated, this time with more urgency, but I couldn’t respond. He reached for me as my legs gave out, and we sank to the floor together. His long arms cradled me, rocking me gently as he whispered soothing promises into my hair. “Shh, it’s alright. It’ll be okay. We’ll get through this.” He pressed a tender kiss to the top of my head, and my breathing finally began to calm. I let him hold me as the tears came, silent but heavy. We stayed like that for a long time, until Jameson began to cry too. I wiped my face and stood, needing to tend to him.

“I’m sorry,” Devon said, and anguish washed over his features.

“What for?”

“For bringing that up. For pushing you. It’s too soon.”

“It’s okay. I just don’t trust the police with this. They’ll take his side.”

“We can’t know that for sure. I know his dad has—”

“His dad is the reason I can’t go to the cops. He convinced his whole department I was mentally unstable.”

“What?” Shock fell away, replaced by anger as his eyes turned into molten pools of rage.

I picked Jameson up and held him tight to my chest as I relayed the entire story to Devon about what had happened the last time I tried to get away. His fists clenched and unclenched as he strode to the door, yanking it open so hard I thought it would come off the hinges. He walked outside into the chilly night, and I lost sight of him in the full blackness of a starless sky. I clutched my baby tighter to my chest to ward off the cold. Creeping across the floor, I pulled the door closed and found a switch on the wall that turned on the front porch lights. I hoped he didn’t roam too far. He wasn’t wearing a coat, and the temperature was below freezing.

He returned a while later, his cheeks and nose pink, and stood by the fire. I took his hands in mine, the icy chill sending shivers all over my body.

“Your hands are freezing,” I lamented and rubbed my warm ones over his. He sucked in a breath, and my gaze shot to his face. He was watching me, his eyes searing into me like he could see to the depths of my soul. I wanted him to kiss me, to take the pain away. To make me forget.

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