“Perry, you couldn’t have known this would happen. I sure as fuck didn’t.”
I shrugged and took some more jerky out of the bag.
“I guess I always felt like you were always so removed from everything,” I admitted between chews. “You know, being the host, you have to go first. I mean, you always had me out there ahead of you. I had to face everything alone, at least that’s what it felt like. I just assumed you were never as scared as I was, that you weren’t at risk. But…now I know you were. You’ve been with me every step of the way. Every scary ass door you made me open, you were right behind me. I’m sorry if I seemed…”
He raised his brows. “Disagreeable? Wussy? Wrong?”
I tapped his hand lightly. “You know what I mean. Now I know. We’ve always been in this together.”
He looked straight ahead into the forest as he brought his knees up to his chin and rested his arms on them. “I’m glad you finally caught up.”
A silence, heavy as paint, sank on top of us. With no roar or crackle of the fire, there was nothing around us but the quiet of the trees and the occasional chirp from an insect of some sort.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking about turning in,” he said after a yawn.
“It’s like six.”
He shrugged. “And I’ve had a long day. I don’t know if it’s the same with you and your…Jean Grey thing…but having to fight off Mitch really tired me out. I guess that’s the drawback for being Hulk. I feel like I could sleep for days.”
I was tired too but my mind and heart were too jumbled for sleep.
He eased himself out of the log and disappeared behind the trees, taking a whiz somewhere. When he came back, I was lying lengthwise in the log, my back to the wood.
“You don’t have to turn in too,” he said crouching down so he was at my level.
I nodded. “I know. And I don’t think I could sleep anyway but it’ll at least keep us warm.”
“How about you keep the first watch and I’ll take over the rest?”
That sounded like a plan.
He lied down in front of me, back against my chest, and I brought the blanket around so we were both tucked in. Despite the odds, it was actually comfortable.
A few moments passed in the dark, each second feeling infinitely longer than the last as I wrestled with my conscience.
Finally I whispered, “Dex?”
He twitched and grunted in response.
I waited some more. Then I said, “I’m sorry.”
Silence. I was starting to think he hadn’t heard me and was about to repeat myself when he answered.
“I’m sorry too, kiddo.”
And that was that. He sounded sincere and he sounded sad. And even though my forehead was almost pressed to the back of his neck, I felt the walls going up around him. A distance settled in where there wasn’t distance before.
I didn’t want to lose him. I couldn’t lose him. But I hadn’t given him much choice. It’s all I could think about as the minutes turned into hours and the sounds of the forest intensified.
The night was long.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dex kept his word and after he had at least six hours of solid sleep, he stayed awake while I went to sleep. By that point my mind and body were exhausted, not only from the day, and the constant fear that the creature was lurking somewhere in the woods, but from the turmoil my heart kept spitting out at me.
When daybreak finally rolled around, another hazy grey morning in the mountains, Dex had gently shaken me awake. There was no time to sleep in. We had to get moving while we could.
We packed up and left our log home behind, heading back the way we came to find the river again. I couldn’t quite keep up with him; every single bone in my body ached, from my shins all the way up to the bruise on my cheekbone. I had taken a hell of a beating yesterday and it was all finally coming down on me. With no adrenaline to keep the pain at bay, it was almost distracting at times.
Dex helped me when he could and soon we reached the roaring blue river. I went as fast as I could, wincing every couple of steps, telling myself that as soon as we got back to the cabin, I’d be stuffing myself full of Advil and any leftover bourbon. The small first aid kit we had packed had everything except bloody painkillers.
We had been walking for about two hours, taking more breaks than we should have, when the clouds overhead thickened and a slight breeze picked up. Seconds later as I finished off a glass of icy river water, a light snow began to fall. It was beautiful, the way the delicate flakes danced on their descent but I knew sooner or later it would start to trip up our journey back.
“We have to keep moving,” Dex said and brought out the space blankets to wrap around our shoulders like a cape. We were dressed warmly but at this point there was no such thing as being too careful.
He shot me a glance as I winced my way around a slippery rock bed.
“Do you want me to carry you?” he asked.
I waved him away and put on a brave face. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m serious. I could actually carry you the whole way. Remember? I’m Hulk now.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you going to let this thing go to your head?”
He tried not to grin but he failed. He let out a laugh. “Oh, it’s already gone to my head.”
“I can tell,” I said. I straightened up and tried to ignore the burn in my bones as my boots slipped on the fresh snow.
He studied me for a bit, pursing his lips. Then he said, “All right, but if I see any more painful looks from you, you’re going on my back. Got it?”
I knew better than to argue with him. I just nodded, focusing my attention forward and keeping my facial expressions at bay.
Why are you being so nice to me? I thought to myself even though I knew the answer. The answer hurt too.
The more we walked, the more I was able to take my mind off the pain. Nothing was damaged, really; I just had to suck it up. But after a few hours we came to something we couldn’t quite get past.
“Ah, shit,” Dex swore. He brought out the map and looked it over.
The river banks had been slowly but surely tapering off until there was nothing left. The river decided to cut right through a mountain, bordering by towering cliffs. There was no way we could follow it directly anymore unless we felt like taking another dip.
“Now what?”
“I’m thinking,” was his answer. He put the map down and looked up at the cliffs. The only choice we had without going off course again was to go straight up but that was ludicrous. Even if Dex was stronger and I was on his back, he wasn’t Spiderman. Or a spider monkey for that matter.
“Don’t worry,” he commented without looking at me. “We’ll try and find our way where it’s less steep.”
Once again, could he hear me? I decided it didn’t really matter. He was right when he said we were always on the same page. At least, we were most of the time.
It didn’t take us too long, maybe ten minutes of picking our way through the forest again, before we were able to hit the mountain slope. It was about as difficult as a steep hike, hard on the knees and the lungs, but not impossible, even though I was occasionally grinding my teeth in pain. I kept imagining lying in a bathtub at home, soaking in a pile of Epsom salts and relaxing with a glass of wine and I worked toward that thought.
The funny thing was, when I had that mental image, it was of the bathroom back at my parents’ house. It hit me like a blow to the gut, the fact that I wouldn’t be returning to that place. I couldn’t even think about my entire life prior to this without feeling a bit sick at the way things were left.
Then I was reminded of the bathroom I had now. At Dex’s. The thing was, when I really thought about it, I didn’t want to actually move out. Logically, it made no sense for me to stay if I was so hell bent on returning our relationship to normal – living with him would be too hard if we were just friends, the friends I said I wanted us to be.
But I told him I was moving out. That was the original plan and I had to stick to it now.
I guess I had been mulling all of this drama over in a daze of sorts because before I knew it, the climb had softened its intensity and was leveling out. We were much higher and the snow was really coming down.
Dex paused, catching his breath, and looked around us. My eyes followed. Everything was grey and white, like we had climbed up into a cloud. Scratch that. We had climbed up into a cloud. The white mist blew past us, almost tangible, like something you could hold in your hands, dumping snow on our heads and shoulders.
“Is this it?” I asked.
He kept his head raised high in the air, sussing out the situation. “I guess we either plateau for a bit or go down again. I think we’ve been walking in a straight line, which means we will eventually meet the river again. We’re just way ahead of the path, that’s all.”
“You think we’ve been walking in a straight line?” I scoffed.
“I don’t see a river to follow and I don’t have a compass, do you?” he answered, still eyeing the hazy landscape around us. “So yeah, I think. I’ve been keeping track, don’t worry. I guess we’re caught in some low crest that’s not on the map.”
“Will we still make it back before it gets dark?” I asked, swallowing the dull panic in my stomach.
“I promised you we’d make it,” he said, finally bringing his eyes to meet mine. “I meant it.”
You know those times when someone just takes your breath away out of the blue? When you see them day after day, and then one day you just see them. Like a layer has been stripped away, leaving the core exposed. This was one of those times. I don’t know if it was the stark and moody backdrop behind him but I suddenly saw Dex Foray so clearly. He seemed taller, even though he wasn’t, and just rippling with determination. It had settled in his dark brows, causing shadows to be cast on his eyes. Only occasionally could you pick out the rich brown of his irises, otherwise it was just a feeling you got from looking at him, not an image. His jaw was wide and tense, and maybe his cheekbones were sharper because of the stress we’d been under but it was accented by the dark facial hair that hugged all the right places. It all wrapped together under a package of black messy hair and taut, tanned skin, a man of virility and strength, and most surprising of all, of heart. This wasn’t the Dex I used to see. No, I finally saw Dex as the man he was.
What a strange, strange place to have an epiphany.
“What is it?” he asked, the wind whipping the map in his hands.
“Nothing,” I answered robotically, still caught in his gaze.
His frown deepened. “Are you worried?”
Yes, I thought. But about the wrong thing.
‘No.” My tongue felt too big for my mouth.
“All right. Let’s keep going then.”
I watched him take the lead, his black on black form fading as he walked. Then I shook the crap out of my head, the loose thoughts that weren’t going anywhere. I followed closely behind him, my feet being careful on the snow-slick rocks. Up here there were no trees, just boulders, loose shale, and a powder-fine grey dirt that stuck to my boots. Everywhere I looked, we were surrounded by a white mist of quickly drifting particles.
