Page 37 of Finding Fate

Fate

Before

Not by my consciousdoing, sometime in the middle of the night, I move across the small room. Instead of waking curled in the corner where I fell asleep, now the thin wood dividing our two areas presses against the small of my back.

With a yawn, I roll to face his side and find him in the middle of the room on his back, staring at the rusted ceiling. Metal grinds and the door to my area swings open. Alert brown eyes snap to a man now standing in the doorway.

Tension crackles in the still air. My gaze bounces from the man staring at me to the one staring down the man in the doorway.

With a grunt, the man in fatigues drops the pan to the floor, food sloshing on the dirt, and sets a small cup of water beside it. Ten points to Slytherin for not dropping that too. These few cups of water they hand my way are barely enough to keep dehydration at bay.

Once the door slams shut and the lock slides back in place, I stretch and look to his side. But no one comes to deliver him food or water. Come to think of it, no one did last night either.

"Have they brought you anything?" I ask between sips of water. Instead of responding, his gaze flicks back to the ceiling. "I'll take that as a no, then."

Brushing bits of loose dirt from the thin blue material covering my backside, I stand and grab the food and water. Careful to not spill anything, I shuffle back to the dividing wall. Little by little, I search for a gap wide enough to slip some food and the cup through. The widest I find only allows a couple fingers to squeeze through. "It might be awkward, but this is our only option. Come over here and I'll share mine."

"I already ate. Their continental breakfast is amazing, but you have to wake up early."

"I was just trying to help," I snap, annoyed at his dumb response. "You don't have to be a jackass." Moving to the other side of the room I turn my back to him and eat in silence.

His sigh is so loud I'm sure the men standing guard heard it too.

"I'm not being an ass, just ill-placed humor. Sorry. And I'm not takin’ food from you. You need it more than I do."

"Ah, so you're immune to dehydration and starvation. Good to know you're invincible, Nash," I say to the wall, trying to keep my tone even.

"Now who's being the ass."

I drop my head forward and massage the bridge of my nose. "Why did you come back? Now you're in here too. You should’ve left me."

The shuffling of material urges me to turn back to his side. My gaze flicks from where he was lying on the floor to where he now stands, facing me, palms pressing against the dividing wall. "But then you'd be alone."

"I'm okay being alone. I’m used to it, really,” I whisper, unable to drop his stare. He has some kind of wooing magic or something.

"No one's okay being alone."

"I am," I mutter, turning back to the wall. "Then no one can leave me behind."

"I thought about it," he admits, drawing my attention back to his side. "When we loaded the last girl into the bird, I almost hopped in too, ready to get out of this shit hole, but I didn't."

"Why?" I almost cry. “When everyone else is eager to get away from me, why did you run back?” Damn, did I say that out loud?

"Can't I just be a gentleman and not want to leave a woman here, alone?"

"Not good enough. Why?"

"I wanted the true Africa captive experience?"

My lips twitch upward beneath my veil. "Nope. Try again."

"I'm a masochist."

There’s no holding back my low chuckle. Two days in a row of some semblance of joy. Maybe this guy isn't so bad to have around. "Doubtful. Real reason."

"Later."

"We might not have later."

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