Page 48 of Coerced

Maybe a noise had scared her.

I rolled out of my sleeping bag, unzipped my tent, and slid into my boots. Standing in front of her tent, I thought about how to do this. It wasn’t like I could knock on a door or anything, so I crouched down and called her name.

“Kerry?” her voice wobbled.

“Who else would it be? Why are you crying? Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer, but the front of her tent unzipped. I peeked in and saw she was on her hands and knees inside, her face two or three inches from mine. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders and her cheeks were wet.

“What’s wrong, angel?” I reached out with one hand to wipe away her tears. “You lose Sir Martin? Or have a nightmare?”

“My night light died.”

I blinked.

Okaaay. Not what I expected.

“It’s a full moon and the sky is clear. Look.” I moved aside so the moonlight shone on her face. “It’s not even really dark out.”

“I know,” she hiccuped, then moved back to sit on her sleeping bag. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.

“Do you want my flashlight?” I tried again.

She shook her head, and I was at a complete loss.

“What can I do to make this better?”

“Hold me?”

She held out a hand, and I dropped to my knees without a second thought. Leaving my boots outside, I zipped the door closed and crawled over, then gathered her up.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“For what? I’m exactly where I wanna be. I should be thanking you.”

“But I broke it!” She started crying again, this time in breathy little sobs. “It was the first gift you made me and I broke it!”

I had no clue what she was talking about.

“You’re gonna have to give me a little more. I’m completely in the dark here.”

Her sob became a giggle, and I wondered what was wrong with her.

“Is it PMS? Because, if it is, I got you. I brought along two emergency bars of dark chocolate.”

“No, it’s not PMS.” The giggle became a laugh.

When she turned her face into my neck, I felt her smile against my skin.

“I’m gonna guess I’m being funny without knowing it again.” My lips grazed her skin. “Let me see this night light. Maybe I can fix it.”

She held up a slip of paper.

Oh. It was the candle I drew her months ago, on the night she’d healed my back. The same night I fell the rest of the way in love with her, although it had taken me a long time to figure that out.

Examining it, I couldn’t feel any of the power I’d put into it. That was odd. It should have lasted way longer.

Unless she’s been using it every single night since then. But why? She has a regular night light in her room. And I hung up that net of Christmas lights across the ceiling for her. She doesn’t need this when she’s home.

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