Page 5 of Rescued By The Wolf

“It will be fine,” I promise him, though now that I look at him, I’m not sure that just he could fit in the tent.

The man, Flint, is huge. He’s at least a foot taller than me and probably has a hundred pounds on me, which is saying something because I’m a bigger girl.

“Here’s your coat back,” I say, trying to take it off, but he shakes his head.

“Keep it on until we’re back in the tent.”

We start to head that way, and I listen to the crunch of the snow under my boots. They were the only things that I grabbed before I scrambled out of the tent earlier.

“Are you sure you feel safe here?” He asks me as we stop outside of my tent, and I pause.

“I’m sure it will be fine. He wouldn’t try anything again.”

Or at least not again tonight.

Right?

I crawl back into my tent and Flint follows after me. I pull off my boots, tucking them in the corner before I crawl into my sleeping bag.

“Here’s your coat back,” I say, shrugging out of it and handing it to him.

“Are you warm enough?” He asks before he takes it, and I nod.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

We shift around until we’re both comfortable. The tent is so small that we’re kind of smashed up against each other no matter how we lay.

“What did you mean earlier?” Flint asks. “When you said that your stepdad was being creepy the last few months.”

“He’s been… hitting on me. I think,” I add lamely.

I can see Flint’s jaw tighten at my words.

“Did you tell your mom?” He asks.

“I tried, but all of the examples are so… murky. She could always explain it away or she made me sound like I was exaggerating or being dramatic.”

“He’s escalating. It’s not going to get better,” he warns me, and I roll over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling of the tent.

“I know,” I whisper.

I know he’s right. Roger is getting bolder and bolder.

“I just graduated college. I can move out as soon as I find a job. I won’t have to see him that often,” I tell him and he nods.

“Good.”

Flint shifts, trying to get comfortable in the small space, and I scoot over as much as I can.

“Here, you can lie down. It might be more relaxing than sitting up all night.”

He pauses for a moment before he lies down next to me. Our shoulders brush, and I take a shaky breath.

“So, you live here?” I ask.

I need to talk to him. I want to learn more about him and hope that talking will distract me from the feelings welling up inside of me.

“I do. I live in the town over there,” he says, pointing to the east. “It’s this little town called Aspen Ridge.”

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