Page 81 of The Space Between
I swallow back the ache within my chest. “Sure. I can have some pancakes before I head to the shop. I’ll help.”
She looks at me for a scant second and I feel like she’s inside my head, but she doesn’t say anything but, “I’d like that.”
We head into her cabin.
We work together. She mixes the batter and sets bacon in the oven to crisp, and I pour pancakes into the cast iron skillet and flip them when they bubble. She’s leaning against the counter, sipping coffee from a chipped mug and looking at me over the rim of the mug while my shirt barely covers her thighs. Setting it down, her fingers twist the hem like she’s debating whether to say something or let it die in her throat.
“What?” I ask, knowing she’s got something on her mind.
She lifts her gaze to mine. “You’ve never asked me about him...”
“You’ve shared what you needed to. And I figured you’d tell me more when you were ready.”
“I’m not sure I ever will be. But… thank you.”
I take a sip of my own coffee to stop for reaching for her. After setting it in the counter, I reply, “You don’t owe me anything, Blakelyn.” And I plate the pancakes.
She swallows so hard I hear it, then, she murmurs. “Neither do you, I suppose.”
She’s wrong. I do.
She’s the only person I’ve let all the way in since the river took my world… and she’s still here.
From the backof the shop, I pause from stacking tubes and watch her wade into the water behind our cabins.
She doesn’t see me. She’s focused… determined. The sun catches in her hair casting hues of red and turning her skin to gold. She hesitates, glancing down. It’s innocent. She’s only in water to her calves. Something probably brushed against her skin, a limb, a leaf, a turtle.
But sheer panic hits me.
It’s not the spot. It’s not even close.
But it doesn’t matter.
In my head, all I see is the rain… the current… the bend in the river.
The silent, raging water that took my family six years ago.
I freeze. My vision blurs. Icy terror floods my spine, and I bark. “Blakelyn!” It’s louder than I mean it to be. “Back up. Get out of the water! Now!”
She jumps and whirls, tripping in her fear. Stumbling, she takes a step toward the shore. Her eyes are wide and scared “What?—”
“Get out. Now.” My voice is hard. Clipped. Cold.
She doesn’t argue as she looks around, trying to find the danger. But her face crumples just enough to let me know I scared her… that my tone did more damage than the current ever could.
I run, closing the distance fast, splashing through the shallows and gripping her elbow as gently as I can. “You can’t be in there alone.”
She looks up at me, hurt and confusion flashing behind her eyes. “I wasn’t in trouble, Gruene. What the hell?”
“You don’t know that.” I snap.
“I do. Ilivehere. I’m not an idiot. What happened? I don’t understand—” She says.
She’s right. I overreacted. I saw her in the water, but I didn’t actually see her at all. I saw them.
I made love to her in the same river that took my family last night.
What is wrong with me? What kind of man does that?
