Page 9 of Trapped: Between Sky And Wind

Bren lies down next to me without touching me. “Is this okay for you? Me next to you?”

I look over at him. He’s staring at the ceiling but his senses seem wide awake. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you’re scared. Of this.”

I don’t know exactly what he means by this, sleeping with me or sleeping next to me, but once again, I realize what an excellent observer he is. Of course, he’s a hunter who must always keep an eye on his prey and can anticipate its reaction before it knows itself. But I am no longer prey.

“Lou, we have time.” That’s all he says.

We lie side by side in silence for a while.

This is complete nonsense! You’ve longed for him so much, and now that you’re lying next to him, you’re as stiff as a porcelain doll.

I scoot closer to him so that our shoulders touch. Bren takes a deep breath and tentatively puts an arm around me.

“Okay?” he whispers and I sense his desire not to startle me with anything he does.

“Okay,” I whisper back. His closeness calms me as it has so many times before. It’s strange how my body always reacts to him. Like understands a lot more about love than my mind does.

I close my eyes with a comforting sigh. Eventually, I roll onto my side and Bren carefully wraps his arms around me from behind, just like he did the night I almost froze to death. His breath breaks against my neck. It’s the kind of closeness I need tonight. I feel protected, even from my fear-filled memories, like only he can keep them at bay. Crazy. It’s all just crazy.

At some point, I grope for the pendants on my necklace which I still wear every day and I think of my brothers. Do they already know? When I wrote the letters, I found my own story quite understandable. I now doubt that Ethan, Avy, and Liam will have much sympathy for me embarking on my own personal summer, even a whole new life, with my former kidnapper. I know there will be trouble, but I don’t know in what form.

For a long time, I am unable to fall asleep. I stare into the night and listen to the sounds of the forest. After the stars fade into a velvety blue sky, I drift off until the gentle vibration of the RV wakens me a while later—the generator is running. Just like back then.

Strangely familiar feelings of fear and happiness well up in me. Darn memories.

“Hey, sleepyhead, are you getting up?” Bren is puttering around the kitchen and glances at me. The tempting smell of coffee lies in the air.

I smile, move the blanket aside, and climb onto the bench. Grey immediately jumps over and happily licks my fingers. I giggle and scratch his head.

“I had to use force to stop him from jumping up to you!”

“He’s grown so big! I still can’t believe this is my little Grey.” Grey barks, seemingly indignant, and I laugh. He no longer fits on the bench with me.

I pet him, but after a few minutes, Bren chases him outside on a long leash. “He needs to let off more steam, otherwise, he’ll go completely nuts during the trip.”

He used to send me outside on a long leash for fresh air, I think, but I shove the thought out of my mind before it can take root. Today is today, over is over. “So, he no longer throws up while you drive?” I ask. I almost forgot.

Bren shrugs and leans against the counter. “He’s used to it by now.”

I watch Grey running in circles like a dervish outside. I’m so glad he has stayed with Bren. If he hadn’t, Bren would have been all alone again. “Where are we going?” I yawn wearily and squint at my cell phone which is on the counter next to the sink. Luckily, it hasn’t rung yet.

Bren pours me some coffee. Just like back then. “Maybe as far as Medford but we’ll have to do some shopping in between. We need a lot of water.”

We have to go shopping. The sentence resonates, and at first, I don’t know what’s so special about it until I realize that I’ve never been out in public with Bren. Our us consisted of the RV, the Yukon, and Grey.

An old shadow invades my consciousness. “You no longer get attacks when you go shopping?” I ask hesitantly, watching his reaction. He once told me that the bright neon lights, in supermarkets in particular, can trigger them.

He shakes his head. “I’ve been working on it. With my therapist and otherwise. Most of the time, it goes well.”

“How often does it not go well?”

“Rarely.”

“How often is rarely?”

“Heavens, Lou, I don’t keep count. Plus, I have my emergency resources, the skills, remember?”

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