Page 30 of Heart of the Sun

“Then why? Why the tears?” he asked, and I swore his voice had gentled. I felt Tuck pause in his dabbing as though waiting for my answer and I again wished I’d lied. I wasn’t even exactly sure why I was crying and wasn’t prepared to discuss it with Tuck of all people. But the woods were dim, the night folded in around us. I was too spent to spin falsehoods.

“It’s just…everything. I’m cold and scared and I keep picturing Russell’s dead body under those rocks in the middle of nowhere.” A shudder moved through me. “His family doesn’t even know he’s dead.” I held back another torrent of tears. I’d been trying so hard not to think of the man who’d welcomed us onto the plane earlier that day, likely expecting to be home for dinner. How could I cry over a cut in my skin when he’d lost his life? When right that moment, someone might be waiting for him and didn’t yet know he’d never be home.

Tuck was quiet for a few moments, his hands continuing to attend to my gash. “I know,” he finally said. “It’s a lot to handle. When we get to a phone, we’ll notify the authorities about Russell and send someone to pick up his body. It’s the best we can do for him, Em.”

Em.“So you’re sure we can find our way to civilization?”

“Yes. I am.”

My shoulders lowered, that invisible weight lessening just a little at the confidence in his voice. I believed him, not only because he’d sounded sure, but because he’d known enough to collect food and water and medical supplies while Charlie and I had stood there watching him with our mouths hanging open. Useless.

He turned me slightly with light pressure on my hip as he assessed the abraded skin, and I took in a shaky breath. Despite the issues between us, just being cared for was making me feel better, and I appreciated that he’d been willing to put that stuff aside, at least temporarily. He let out a small grunt as though satisfied that the gash he was cleaning was the worst of it.

“So, I guess this makes you the resident medic now, huh?” I asked, shooting him a small smile to let him know I appreciated what he was doing. And also, to distract myself from the weird bubbles popping between my ribs at the feel of his warm, calloused fingertips running over my hip.

“Hardly,” he said, looking back down and giving the wound one more swipe. “Although I did used to read lots of veterinary medicine books when I was a kid,” he said, his gaze rising to meet mine again.

I let out a surprised laugh when I saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Are you comparing me to a horse now too?”

He gave me a small tilt of his lips and his fingertips exerted the barest bit of increased pressure. “Not even close,” he murmured. The moment stretched as our gazes held, one of his hands still on my lower back where he’d held me steady as he’d treated the wound. He released a breath, looking away as his hand dropped. My smile faded. I immediately missed the warmth of his palm on my skin and the way that, for a moment, I’d felt held together by his touch in some way I couldn’t describe. And I felt strangely rejected too. I gave my head a miniscule shake. That, however, was a ridiculous thought. There was no rejecting going on because there was no offer. Quite the opposite,in fact. “You always did have a book,” I said.You and your damn books.

“Some things never change.” He reached for a tube of ointment or cream or whatever was contained in the emergency kit.

Some things never change.

But others alter drastically.Like you.

So why did I suddenly feel unsure of that? Why did he confuse me so much? Still?

Because everything is on shaky ground right now. Nothing is certain. Of course you’re confused and off-kilter.

And the moon is strange, its pearly glow filtering through the trees and making this moment feel like the vestige of a dream.

As though he’d heard my inner turmoil, or maybe felt it too, he glanced up quickly before focusing back on dabbing the cream on my wound and spreading it over the red outer portion. I watched his hand as it moved over that small section of my body and a shiver went down my spine. I tried not to react physically but saw his eyelids flutter as goose bumps broke out on my skin. The skin he was currently up close and personal with. “Does it hurt?” he asked, and I released a silent breath of relief that he’d assumed my reaction had to do with pain and not…What, Emily? What did that reaction have to do with?

“No,” I said, the word emerging in a rush, the volume not quite appropriate for the lack of distance between us and the quiet of the night. I pulled in a deep breath and let it out. “I mean, a little. But it’s manageable.”

He tipped his head back and our eyes met again, and for a moment, he looked confused too and…almost vulnerable. My breath caught.What are you thinking?I wanted to know. I’d always wanted to know, and with Tuck, I’d never figured out how to ask so that he’d answer me honestly. He’d always been so secretive, held his emotions so close to the vest whereas I’d worn mine on my sleeve—and belted them out using the songs I sang. The ones that were usually about him.God.I hated thinking about that.I hated it. Especially now when I had to rely on him in so many ways.

Especially now, after he’d disappointed me so deeply. All those drugs…

And yet still, our eyes held.

“Emily—” Charlie suddenly appeared over Tuck’s shoulder, and I gave a small jolt as Tuck turned his way. Charlie’s gaze went from Tuck to me, down to the exposed wound. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone suspicious.

I started to pull my pants up as though we’d been caught doing something salacious but halted before I got antibiotic cream all over my clothes. But I did hold my hand in front of the sore, so Charlie didn’t have a good view. “Tuck was helping me treat my wound,” I said. “It might be infected.”

“You should have told me,” Charlie said. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s fine.”

Tuck picked up a bandage and stood. He started to turn to Charlie to, I assumed, give him the bandage so he could finish the job, but I stopped him before he did. “I’ll take that,” I said. Truthfully, I didn’t want Charlie to see it, because I could just picture the way his face would scrunch up with distaste like it’d done as he’d glanced at Russell’s dead body.

Or the way I’d seen it do when he got any small injury.

Charlie wasn’t good at keeping his reactions at bay. Part of his job was using his face to express his emotions, and so maybe he had a hard time turning that off. In any case, I preferred to keep my oozing sores away from him.

Tuck turned back toward me, hesitated, but then put the bandage in my outstretched hand. He seemed careful not to touch me. “Make sure to cover the whole thing,” he said. “And reapply the cream and change the dressing every few hours.” He nodded down to the medical kit.

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