Raging Heart On_ Friends to Lovers Romance(114)
Her words roll over me, dig under the skin and lodge there. Lodge in a way I know they will fester and cause me trouble later.
“No one stood up for you?”
“One person, Rory. He stood up for me. He always stood up for me.”
“What happened with the two of you?”
“I married him.”
“You’re married?” I ask, and I do my best to ignore the way those words burn. It’s a good decision to let her go tomorrow. She has a man. She has a life ahead of her.
“Not anymore.”
“He stop taking up for you?”
“He died.”
“Tough break,” It’s an asinine thing to say, but then so is the feeling of happiness that an unnamed person was dead. It’s still what I feel inside.
“Yeah, it was. Did you go to your Uncle Raymond’s?”
“How did you know?”
“The hunting cabin and your uncle was in your file. I told you; I’ve been reading about you for months.” I don’t make a comment. I don’t think I’d know what to say. “Are you leaving in the morning, Max?”
“Yeah, it won’t be safe to stay.”
“Take me with you, Max. Don’t leave me here alone again, please?”
Across the room the light from the lantern flickers and then burns completely out. Darkness drapes over us and I hear her voice repeat in my head. Take me with you, Max. I can’t keep her, but maybe it would be okay to take her with me, just one more day. Truth is, I’m just not ready to let her go yet.
“Go to sleep, Tess,” I tell her, rolling over on my side and giving her my back.
“You didn’t answer. Please, Max? Don’t leave me here alone.”
“You’ll go with me when we leave, but you may wish you hadn’t before it’s over.”
“Sweet dreams, Max.”
Again, I don’t know how to answer her. I don’t think anyone has ever said those words to me before. I need sleep, but I lay there a long time before sleep claims me, the last thing I hear is Tess’s plea in my mind.
“Take me with you, Max.”
9
Tess
A clanging noise jerks me awake. I sit up and feel the sharp pain in my wrist as I pull too far away. Handcuffs. Memories from the day before surface and panic once again overtake me as I think Max has left me alone again. Relief almost overwhelms me when I find him standing over an old camping stove, cooking.
“You have food?” I ask, excited. I’m starved. It feels like I haven’t eaten in days.
“I’m not sure you can call it food, so don’t get too thrilled.”
“Oh my God, Max! Is that bacon I smell?”
“It’s more like cured jerky,” he says dryly.
“I don’t care what it is, just give it here,” I answer him, my mouth watering. “Oh my god, is that eggs?” I ask when I see the fluffy mounds of yellow sitting on the plate, he brings me.
“More like dried powder. Still, they aren’t bad in a pinch,” he says putting the plate down on my lap. There’s the not quite bacon-bacon, eggs, toast and… “Peaches?” I question him.
He shrugs, “I thought you might want fruit. Women like that kind of thing right?”
I want to ask what he did with gruff, silent Max, but I don’t want him to make a reappearance, so I zip it up.
“It’s great…umm can I get, I mean will you unhook me so I can eat?” I hold up my hand waving it and making the chain rattle. He looks at me and back to the handcuff.
“I’ll feed you,” he says, his eyes darker.
My stomach flutters at the look in his eyes and I’m imagining him feeding me. I want that. I want more of what we did together yesterday, even knowing I shouldn’t. I need to divert him right now though and figure out exactly what I’m going to do.
“Max, this is ridiculous, it’s not like I can get away from you. Just let me loose so I can eat, and while we’re talking about it, I need to use the facilities, so…” I trail off wiggling the chain again.
He frowns, but pulls a key out of his pocket and undoes my lock. I rub my wrist, from reflex. It doesn’t really hurt; Max fixed the cuff so that it was very loose. I just don’t like the idea of being restrained. A flash of need has me picturing myself restrained; naked while Max is over me…I ignore it. That’s definitely not going to help me clear my head and figure out what to do.
“The facilities, Kitten, are an old lard bucket behind that row of shelves,” Max says, watching every move I make.
“A lard bucket?”
“No indoor plumbing in a cheap underground survival shelter,” he returns in his wry, statement-of-fact voice that I’m either beginning to really like or hate. It’s a toss-up.