Page 11 of Echoes in the Night

At the door he has me jump on his back and lock my feet in front of him like before. The wind has indeed picked up and going back is a much harder trudge into the force. His strength is almost inhuman.

Once inside we shed our coats. “Okay, my turn to take care of you. Get the stove going and give me a pot. I saw chicken noodle soup in your pantry. I’m sure I can heat that up.”

“Sounds good. “I’ve got some fresh baked bread we can warm to go with it.”

After dinner he surprises me with several sketch books and graphite pencils. “Where did you get these?”

“I learned from Gramps to always have them hanging around. You don’t think we do our carving and woodwork without a design do you? I imagine it’s the same for you as a clothing designer. You sketch it first.”

“True. Thank you, I appreciate these. I never go anywhere without mine.”

“Will you be able to recreate what was in your bag?” he asks.

“Mostly, I think.”

“Or it will come back to you even better.”

I smile. “Wait, you must have some of your work. I want to see. Please?”

“I do, but?—”

“No but. I want to see. Go, go get the sketch books, now.”

Chapter Seven

Jax

Standing, I cross to the bookshelf and pull down one of the boxes from the top and set it on the coffee table. She’s on me before I get the lid off.

“Go sit, I get to pick which one we start with.”

With a chuckle I sit in my chair and watch as she fans through almost all the books making three separate stacks. I don’t want to tell her there’s more where those came from.

Finally, she decides on one of the stacks before crawling onto my lap. Does she even realize what she’s done? The implied trust and contentment of her actions hit me right in the heart. I get the feeling from what she’s said that acceptance has been an issue for her. Hell, I’m more than capable of holding her all night. I wish I could.

Opening the first, she glances over her shoulder. “You obviously are into animals. Tell me all about this one. How old were you? What inspired you? And how many of these designs did you actually carve?”

“Actually, the term for that is whittle. Carving is what I did on the coffee table.”

She rolls her eyes, slaps my chest, and grins. “Smarty pants.”

“The first picture is a fox, and I was sixteen. Thank you for not starting with the book when I was age ten. The only way you would have known it was any kind of animal would have been the tail and the word dog at the top. I think we used that one for kindling.”

She laughs. A sweet musical sound that makes me feel all mushy, happy inside. I want to hear that sound every day. By the time we’ve gone through three books she’s starting to doze off. I should have made her nap today, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. I sensed she wanted normal, like nothing happened. I know that feeling well. She’s not over the worst of it yet. The thoughts, the memories will come crashing down any time. Then we re-build.

With the storm raging and no cell service, I won’t leave her alone. If she hadn’t asked to see the chickens, I’d have found a way to convince her to come with me. I know I wasn’t followed. But what if whoever left her didn’t go far and comes back to make sure she died? She doesn’t know how to protect herself.

Holding her across my lap, snuggled against my chest feels good. Right, like this is where she belongs.

Yeah, she feels good. But she’s young enough to be your daughter. Don’t be a perv.

“Come on babe, time for bed.” I stand and carry her to the bathroom.

After she crawls into bed, I turn off the lights and add wood to the fire before stretching out on the couch, sort of. Only my torso is on the cushions. I’m thinking my ranger roll would be more comfortable when she shifts on the bed.

“Get in this bed, Jax. You’re too damn long and big for that small little loveseat. There’s plenty of room. Unless you’re scared I’m going to jump your bones.”

No, but I might jump yours.I rub a hand down my face.

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