Page 31 of The Caretaker
I’D CUDDLED BEFORE,but with Solace it was unlike anything I could recall ever doing in the past. When I woke up on the couch wrapped in his embrace for the third morning in a row, I added it to the things-the-new-me-enjoyed-immensely list—even if I shouldn’t have.
Not wanting to wake him, I lay still, the events from a few nights ago replaying in my mind. The unfamiliar tourist traps of Haley Cove, the memories I’d tried and failed to grab hold of at Solace’s grandfather’s house, the subsequent rage and then the surrender to it. More importantly, Solace’s steadfast support through it all.
The ordeal had left me near catatonic for days, so exhausted I could barely move from this spot to take care of my body’s needs. Solace had kept an eye on me during that time, allowing me to rest but occasionally forcing me to eat too.
I’d gone from falling asleep with my head on his lap—and his fingers in my hair—that one night, to waking up to being spooned by him. I’d gladly sacrificed precious minutes of dawn to enjoy him holding me a bit longer, though.
The couch was surprisingly large enough to accommodate me, but it was a tight fit with the both of us. Considering the direction we faced, one wrong move and he’d end up crashing to the floor.
I felt more refreshed this morning, ready to take on the day, or at least attempt to. Eventually, the urge to both relieve my bladder and watch the sun rise became too unbearable to ignore. I carefully extracted myself from him, holding my breath and performing a few gymnastic moves to climb over the couch without waking him.
He rolled to his stomach, murmuring something unintelligible before falling silent again.
After a quick morning routine in the upstairs guest bathroom, I slipped into something warm before sneaking out the front door.
The smart option would’ve been to stick to the paved road, but the forest beyond the fence line beckoned me, so I set off that way, hoping I wouldn’t get lost and die from hypothermia.
I walked longer than I’d planned, well beyond the time it took for the sun to rise above the horizon, and well beyond the point of being able to feel my fingers within my coat pockets.
Stepping into a sun-filled clearing with a landscape of untouched snow, I decided to take a chance that my fingers would survive another thirty minutes or so. Pulling my hat down over my ears, and zipping my coat all the way up to my chin, I stretched out on my back, closing my eyes on an exhale as the sun’s rays warmed my cheeks. Shutting out the cold and the time, I relaxed there, practicing my promise to live in the moment.
“Hey, you’re blocking my sunlight,” I grumbled a short while later, cracking one eye open to see Solace peering down at me. The breathtaking smile he brandished took aim at my heart. All I could think about was how he’d been a soothing presence by my side since the day we met, and how he’d cared for me over the last few days. “How’d you find me?”
“I followed the crater-sized footprints you left behind. You were gone so long I thought you might need rescuing from your bad sense of direction.”
“You make one wrong turn and they never let you live it down,” I said dryly, getting to my feet and dusting the snow off me as best I could.
“The navigation was screaming at you to turn left,” he said in reference to my driving mishaps during our tour around town. “Would you have thought to follow your own foot trail back to the house?” His pleased expression said he already knew the answer.
“Eventually,” I said, taking the gloves he held out for me. “Thanks.” It took a lot for my body to notice the cold, another indication of how long I’d been exposed to the elements.
He stuck his own gloved hands in his pockets, letting his gaze roam free. “I love this clearing,” he said. “Wildflowers bloom throughout it in the spring. I hang out here sometimes, when it’s warm. I can spend hours reading or just thinking.”
“Sounds peaceful.” I gazed around too, imagining the bare branches teeming with foliage and colorful flowers surrounded by the sunlight coming through the opening in the trees.
“It is,” Solace said in a dreamy tone, shutting his eyes and tipping his face toward the sky. I cataloged every detail of his features, while he busied himself with a memory I wasn’t privy to. His rosy, winter-kissed cheeks, his pale hair now braided down his back, the long lashes resting against the skin beneath his closed eyes. His tempting mouth, the fact that a few days ago that thought would have filled me with guilt, but in the moment—the one I was choosing to dwell in until it passed—there was no shame or guilt at all.
I hadn’t realized he’d caught me staring at his lush lips until they moved, snapping me from my momentary preoccupation with them.
“What are you thinking about right now?” he asked, his entrancing eyes full of curiosity. He straddled a fine line between wholesome and seductive, without even trying for the latter.
“This.” I gestured to the clearing, searching for more words to describe what surrounded us. “This stillness. It’s contagious.” Because for the first time in a while, I felt still. Mentally and emotionally.
“What else?” He came closer to brush snow off my shoulders, those near-invisible freckles that I adored coming into view. I didn’t question why I adored them either. I just did. In that moment, I did.
“I’m also thinking about the other night. Thinking about you.” My breath curled between us. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He tilted his head at me.
“For sharing Gavin with me. That couldn’t have been easy. For sitting with me these past few days. For being patient when you really don’t have to be. And for helping me realize that I could still make a life. I’d like to try.”
“Sharing with you is the easiest thing I’ll ever do, Noon. Come, let’s go inside. I want to show you something, and your lips are turning blue.” He secured his gloved hand around mine and led the way back, cracking jokes about my shoe size as we went, claiming that my footprints almost swallowed him whole.
“Exaggerator has just been added to the list of things I’ve learned about you,” I said once we were inside and peeling out of our winter gear.
“You’ve been compiling a list?” he asked with amused curiosity.
“I’m not telling you what’s on it,” I warned, already sensing where things were headed. I beelined for the fireplace, presenting my ice-cold palms to the flames.
