Page 67 of Last Light

Seven

IWAKE UP THE NEXTmorning sore and aching.

In fact, I feel terrible.

I never realized having sex could take so much out of a person.

The truth is I don’t want to get out of bed.

It’s not like the bed is all that comfortable. The mattress is about two inches thick, and the sleeping bag beneath me feels sticky. But it will take such an effort to haul myself onto my feet that I keep lying there even after Travis gets up and moves the trunk away from the door.

He pulls on his clothes, goes outside for a few minutes, and then comes back in to unshutter the windows and pack up the stuff we used last night.

I’m still curled up under the blanket on my side.

He knows I’m awake, although he hasn’t said anything to me yet. He’s looked over at me several times as he’s been going about his business. Finally he stands next to the bed and reaches a hand out to me.

I take it with a groan, letting him pull me to my feet.

“You not feelin’ good?” he asks, peering at my face.

“I’m fine. Just tired and... I don’t know.”

I’ve slept in a T-shirt and my panties, and his expression changes as his eyes move lower on my body.

His gaze doesn’t change in a hot way. Rather in an urgent way.

He reaches down to lift the bottom of my T-shirt, his eyes still focused on my lower body. “Layne?”

“What?” I have no idea what’s distracted him like this.

He tears the blanket off the bed and stares down at the rumpled sleeping bag we slept on.

This time I can see what has him all uptight.

Blood.

There’s blood on the sleeping bag. I look down at myself and see blood smeared between my thighs.

“You were bleedin’!” He grabs me by the shoulders. “Did I make you bleed last night? Did I hurt you?”

“No! Of course you didn’t hurt me.” I’m finally processing what I’m seeing. And why I feel so bad this morning.

It’s been months.

Months and months.

I’ve almost forgotten.

“Damn it!” I burst out, closing my eyes as the frustration washes over me. “My period started!”

Travis doesn’t say anything, but I open my eyes in time to see relief and understanding soften his face.

“Damnit,” I say again, softer this time.

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