Page 31 of Sustain

I’m reading into things that probably aren’t there.

We’re isolated in a remote cabin, bonding through adversity. Of course, sparks might fly, but then they’ll most likely fade back to nothing when real life returns. I can’t let myself be carried away with what may be nothing more than a fleeting connection forged by these extreme circumstances. No matter how fiercely my foolish heart may want to hope for more. I’m torn between treasuring Mackenzie’s company for however long we’re going to be stranded, and self-preservation if this is all only whimsy on both of our parts.

I gently extricate Stormy from Mackenzie’s lap, moving to settle the slumbering cat on a pillow nearer the fire. Safer to put some physical distance between myself and the intoxicating woman I’m snowbound with before I do something I shouldn’t, like beg her not to break whatever spell has been cast on me the last two days.

“There now, steady on,” I murmur, adjusting the cat’s blankets needlessly, buying time to rein in the embarrassing transparency of my internal thoughts.

Get a grip, man.

I clear my throat gruffly. “What should we try feeding our girl first?” I ask, exhaling slowly and moving to join Mackenzie on the couch while my pulse settles.

Back to practicalities. Probably for the best before I derail this entire train.

nineteen

. . .

Carrion Comfort

Mackenzie

After brainstorming with Ian on what to feed a cat, I can’t help the huge yawn I attempt unsuccessfully to stifle. I don’t know if it’s from the excitement of yesterday, which led to my nightmares and sketchy sleep of last night, or the pain medicine, or maybe a combination of all of the above. All I know is I can hardly keep my eyes open. Again.

My leg is propped up on throw pillows and Ian has his arm around me. I nestle against him and do my best to stay awake. We’re both watching Stormy with anticipation, willing her to wake up and entertain us.

With the power out and only a sexually suggestive book to read as an activity for the two of us to participate in, we need an outside source of entertainment. But in the downtime waiting for Stormy to grace us with her presence, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay awake.

Feeling the steady rise and fall of Ian’s chest beneath me, and the calming sound of his breaths, I am quickly asleep.

When I wake up, I notice I have a new friend next to me in the shape of a fur ball that purrs very loudly. As I shift slightly, Stormy raises her head to see what has interrupted her ownsleep and glares at me with two different colored eyes, one blue and one green. I whisper an apology and look around for Ian.

It’s still light outside but it feels like midafternoon, so I’m hopeful I’ve only been asleep for a little while. However, I don’t see Ian anywhere, but I do hear water running from the direction of the main bedroom and assume he must be taking a shower.

A cold shower.

The cat climbs onto my chest, folding her paws underneath herself as she stares at me, quite content with where she is and apparently not inclined to move anytime soon. Far be it from me to inconvenience this little Princess. From how comfortable she is with me, I get the sense that she’s used to humans, and probably belongs to someone. I hope whoever it is doesn’t miss her too much and wish we had a way of getting Stormy back home.

“Where did you come from little girl?” I ask, staring back into her intense gaze. “Where do you come from? Where are your people? I bet they miss you.”

I don’t know whether Stormy understands me or not but her purrs seem to quicken and increase in volume as I talk to her. Maybe she feels the vibration of my voice in my chest and thinks I’m purring back at her.

I don’t know how cats work.

“Well, regardless of where you come from, I’m happy that we were able to help you, bring you in, and get you warm, and hopefully fed and watered. Feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

Oddly enough I get the feeling that she does understand me and she squints her eyes while still purring. She adds a little stretching of her claws out and in for good measure, kneading her paws into the fabric of Ian’s shirt.

Apparently, she’s quite content, so I close my eyes again and let the monotonous drone of her rumbling lull me back to sleep.

When I wake again, Stormy is no longer on my chest, and my legs are draped over Ian‘s lap while he sits on one end of the couch reading a paperback novel of some kind. It must be one of the “regular” books from the nearby shelves.

He looks absorbed in the story, and from what I can see, he’s pretty far into the book already. His eyes move quickly down one side then up and down the next before turning the page where he repeats the motion. He goes on like that for quite a while, not noticing that I’m awake yet. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen somebody read that fast before. You always hear about speed reading, but you never see somebody doing it.

I watch in amazement until he’s about halfway through the book before I have to shift my weight. My good leg had fallen asleep since I was laying on my side. As I move, he glances over to check on me, and there’s something in that small gesture that unwinds something inside me. He didn’t look over casually or annoyed that I disturbed his reading. His initial reaction was concern, and checking to see if I was OK.

Maybe I have been alone for too long, or grown too independent to care, or just not paying attention, but I can’t remember the last time somebody looked at me just to make sure I was alright. Even as I think this, I know how sad it sounds in my head. I don’t consider myself a nominee for a pity party, but in all honesty, maybe I should throw one for myself.

If there are other people in the world like Ian, that would look at me that way, then maybe I’ve been missing out on quite a lot. But then, why should I have to keep missing out? Why shouldn’t I let myself feel whatever I want to feel? or do whatever I want to do with another consenting adult?

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