Page 4 of Dark Knight

Standing up, I watch as he moves to the tent, opening the front flap, and a lamp comes to life. It’s then I notice it has two rooms. I assume Sawyer is on one side while he—we—will be on the other.

“I dropped a shirt on the bed if you’d like to wear it. You can head in and get changed while I put this fire out and hit the head. I’ll be back in a few.”

Chewing on my lip, I nod and accept the offer. Nolan closes the zipper behind me, and I quickly fold up my sweater, shirt, bra, and skirt and place them on the ground next to the bed with my journal before slipping on the shirt that smells just like him. Spicy, masculine, woodsy. He invades my senses as I inhale the neck of the shirt. I wonder if he’ll allow me to keep it when I leave.

Registering the hissing from the fire, I quickly climb into the bed before the door opens again. I’m already shivering by the time I’ve got the zipper of the sleeping bag up. The flannel inside the cocoon will hopefully warm me up sooner rather than later.

“You good?” Nolan whispers, careful not to wake Sawyer.

“Yup,” I squeak out, and he’s coming in before the full three letters are out of my mouth. I watch him move as he locks the thin barrier after closing it and remains bent down to strip off his clothes.

Too fascinated to turn away, I admire how his tattoos move with his body. The dark ink pops on his tanned flesh, rippling when his muscles flex. Down to a pair of boxer briefs, Nolan has no shame in showing off his body, and I can’t say I blame him one bit because he is a beautiful man.

I’m certain he catches me staring, but he doesn’t say a word as he turns off the lantern, and a few seconds later, he’s crawling onto the mattress with me. He’s brawny, so it’s no surprise that once he’s settled, the bed dips, and we’re as close as if we were lovers.

“Sorry,” I whisper, trying to drag myself closer to the edge and out of his space.

His body turns, and his powerful arm drapes over me, dragging me back into his body. “Stay right here,” he grunts as his hand buries itself under my side while his other arm slips under the pillow my head is on.

I stiffen for a while, but he ignores it as he buries his face into the back of my neck, inhaling deeply before I feel his body relax. It doesn’t take much longer before I follow suit and allow the safety he’s offering to put me to sleep until the sun begins to rise.

Chapter3

Bea

Waking with a sudden jolt, I feel both dizzy and hungover. It’s always like this after an episode. I’ve watched my sisters come home drunk often enough, forgetting what happened the next morning that I know this is what it’s like. Except I always remember.

“You’re tense.” The rumbled voice under the side of my face startles me. Nolan doesn’t let me pull away, though. Instead, he holds me tighter. “You remember.” It’s fairly obvious.

“Yes,” I whisper, not wanting to awaken Sawyer.

“Is it always a bit like falling out of an airplane when you do?” It takes me a moment to figure out his meaning, but when I do, I realize he’s right. The landing is always rough despite having a parachute to catch me.

“Always.” And I hate it every single time.

“Does it happen often?”

“Often enough.”

He shifts beneath me, leaning up on an elbow to stare down at me. “Tell me about it.”

“What do you mean?” But I know. Nolan is intelligent and observant.

“What triggers it?” Brushing my messy hair away from my face, he traces my jaw with a finger, lulling me into a sense of security.

“A lot of things.” I shrug, but I can tell that won’t satisfy him. “Stress, major changes, trauma.”

“What kind of trauma?” I shrug again because I don’t really want to get into that. “Bea,” he prompts, but there’s a demand in his tone.

Blowing out a breath, I accept it’s a losing battle. “I have two sisters and a stepmother. They aren’t the kindest people in the world, but I’m sure they mean well.”

“Like tying your wrists and dragging you around a campground like you’re a dog?” The challenge in his tone begs me to argue with him, but I won’t. Because it’s true. What’s there to argue about?

“When I was a little girl, I’d get so scared when these episodes occurred. I’d cry for days, even after recalling everything. When I started drawing, it would help. I keep notebooks with me all the time now.” I glance up to see his eyes still reflect his anger. “I can leave myself little notes. Clues about who I am. But drawing is what calms me. I’m afraid that when he sends me away, I won’t have the same access to the things I have now.”

“Sends you away?” I freeze; I hadn’t realized I said that out loud.

Clearing my throat, I roll to my back and gaze up at the roof of the tent. The shadows of the trees above sway with the light breeze. Already, the sun is warm and beating down on us.

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