Whoa, shelve it, Will. This getaway was supposed to be about easing the resentment from his heart, not battling the scars from childhood.
Out of the corner of his eye, Will noticed Sara shivering as she popped off the top of the ibuprofen bottle.
“If you remove your wet jeans we can dry them by the fire,” he offered.
“No, thanks.”
“Okay.”
“No offense, but I won’t get very far without my pants.”
“Nor will you get very far if you come down with pneumonia.”
“Okay, Dad.”
He sighed. “Sorry, guess I clicked into parent mode.”
He refocused on the water heating in the pot. For whatever reason, she still couldn’t completely trust him.
Understanding comes from walking in the other person’s shoes. Reverend Charles’s advice when Will struggled to understand Megan. No matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t make sense of why she’d pushed him away.
Since he and Sara would be stuck in this one-room cabin for a while, he tried seeing the world from her point of view to better understand her reactions. She seemed clearheaded, not as delusional as before, and she feared someone was out to harm her. That was her reality. He had to respect that fact. She was also wounded and stuck in a remote cabin with a stranger who, in her eyes, was somewhat of an enigma because he considered himself a gentleman.
The fact that the thought of a good man was so foreign to Sara probably intensified her distrust.
Will realized that in order to take care of her, he needed to respect her space, and not act aggressive or domineering. He hoped she would open her mind to the possibility that he truly wanted to help.
* * *
Gripping the gun firmly in her hand, Sara found herself struggling to stay awake. Not good. Things happened when she slept.
Bad things.
“Do you have any coffee?” she asked.
“Sure.”
Will went into the kitchen. She eyed the bottle of ibuprofen in her lap, then the chewable vitamin C tablets. She’d taken both, thanks to Will’s suggestion.
Will. A stranger with really bad timing who’d happened upon a woman with a target on her back. A stranger who wouldn’t leave her, even after she’d told him her life was in danger, that she could be putting his life in danger.
“It’s instant,” he said, returning to the fire to warm water.
“That’s fine.” She handed him the chewable vitamin bottle. “You could probably use some extra C, as well.”
He popped one into his mouth. “Thanks.”
She watched his jaw work and his Adam’s apple slide up and down as he swallowed. He fascinated her, this gentle, strong and honorable man.
He scooped coffee into a mug and added water. “You can take up to five of those vitamin Cs if you want.”
“What I want is to be home,” she let slip.
“Which is where?” He handed her the mug.
She noticed blood smudging his skin. “What happened to your wrist?”
“Ah, nothing,” he muttered. He dug into his pack and pulled out an antiseptic wipe. “I’ll bet you’re a city girl.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“A good guess.”
“What about you?” she said.
“I live in Echo Mountain,” he said as he cleaned blood from his wrist.
“What’s that like, living in a small town?”
“It’s nice, actually.” He opened a dehydrated packet of food, poured hot water into it, sealed the bag and set it aside. “Never thought I’d end up living in a small town, but I’ve been here for ten years and can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“You moved here from...?”
“Denver,” he said. “My wife was from here originally, but she wanted to live near the Rockies so she got a job in Denver after college. We met on a group hike and...” He glanced at the fire.
“What?” Sara asked.
Will stood and went to the kitchen. “I should find us something to eat on.”
She sensed he regretted talking about his wife. Sara wondered what had happened to her but wouldn’t ask.
“Tell me more about your girls,” she said.
Walking back to the fire, he handed her a spoon. She used it to stir the instant coffee.
“Claire’s my eldest daughter. Eight going on eighteen.” He shook his head and sat in a chair beside the fire. “I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through her teenage years without getting an ulcer.”
“That’s a ways away. Perhaps you’ll remarry.”
The flames danced in his green eyes as he stared at the fire. “Perhaps.”
“How long were you married?” she pushed, sipping her coffee.
“Ten years. Claire was six when her mother died, and little Marissa was only three.”
“It’s hard for kids to lose a parent.”
“So I’ve been told,” he said.
There wasn’t a day that went by that Sara didn’t ache for her mom and dad.
She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. They spent the next few minutes in silence. Will seemed temporarily lost in a memory about his wife, and Sara beat herself up for not getting enough evidence to put LaRouche and Harrington away sooner.
Sure she’d recorded their conversation and the murder, but when she’d checked her phone earlier, she’d noticed it had been damaged in the fall. Hopefully a tech could retrieve the file.
Will opened the packet of rice and beans, dumped it onto a metal plate and handed it to her.
“What about you?” she said.
“I’ll eat whatever’s left over.”
She hesitated before taking it.
“Go on, it’s not bad,” he said.
“But it’s your food.”
“I’ve got more.”
She
