Page 15 of Sanctuary

“I’m sorry,” Del says quickly, evidently reading something on my face. “I know that was at least partly because of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I reply. “It wasn’t in any way because of you. But it also wasn’t because I wasn’t careful enough. Sometimes things happen because others are bigger and stronger than us. Because there are more of them. We can’t control that, but it doesn’t mean we have to huddle in fear andnever take any risks or do anything we want to do. I can’t live like that, Del. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

She swallows hard. She’s emotional—I can see it on her face—but she’s trying to restrain it for my sake. “I know you can’t. I want you to live the kind of life you want. But sometimes it feels like you’re… you’re running away.”

I grow still. Have no idea how to answer this.

“And if you need to run, then you need to run. I’ll never blame you for that after everything you’ve had to do to keep me alive.” A couple of tears escape her eyes, despite her attempts to hold them back. She wipes them away impatiently. “You know what you need more than I do. But things changed when I got together with Cole, and I just don’t want you to be running away from… from me. Because of him.” Her whole body shudders with unreleased sobs.

“Fuck, Del, I’m not.” I reach out to pull her into a hug, even though I’m not a touchy person anymore. I squeeze her tightly. “I’m not running from you. Not for any reason. I promise.”

Del shakes for a minute as she hugs me back, but then she pulls away with a wobbly smile. “Okay. Then do what you need to do.” She pauses, as if she’s hesitating about saying whatever’s next. Then she does. “Just know this. I know how much and how often you’ve had to sacrifice, how you’ve been forced to turn yourself inside out to keep me safe and happy. But I’ll never be that—never, not all the way—if you’re not safe and happy too.”

So that almost gets to me too. My eyes burn, and I can’t speak immediately. But I nod and smile at her.

Then I grab my bag and walk out the door.

I head for Sharpsburg first, and I’m pleased when James gives me another job—delivering a package to a town a few days’ hike away. The package is wrapped tightly, and he doesn’t tell me what’s in it, but I don’t actually care.

He offers me a barrel of dried corn in return for the completed job, and I’m not about to turn that down.

The package fits easily into my backpack, so I can travel light. My route will take me past several other communities, so I can stop in and connect with them on my return journey.

It occurs to me I might encounter Aidan since I know he stops by Sharpsburg most Sundays, but I don’t see him. Not on my way there or on the first afternoon’s hike.

The world is large—even a region as unpopulated as this one—so it shouldn’t be surprising.

I make camp in the woods on the first night. It’s getting chillier, so I build a small campfire, and I eat bread and pork jerky after giving myself a quick cleanup in a creek.

The woods are eerily quiet. It’s so late in the year now that even the bugs have mostly silenced. My fire crackles, and I occasionally hear rustling in the trees from the scattered wildlife. But I’m not on a main road—just an old hiking trail—so there aren’t any other travelers or settlers nearby.

I sleep for a few hours, keeping my gun right near my hand in case of trouble. I keep on all my clothes and my shoes, and make sure every one of my belongings is secured in my backpack along with the package in case I need to jump up and leave quickly. It would be better to stay awake, but if I want to continue, I need at least a little rest. But the problem is, when you’re asleep, you aren’t able to keep an eye out.

I wake up to the sharp awareness that someone is here.

Someone who shouldn’t be here.

I smell him before I even open my eyes. It’s the stout, natural scent of an active man who lives mostly outdoors. It hits mysenses and brings with it the mental picture of the man who matches that scent.

Tall. Lean. Handsome. Vivid green eyes. Deep gold hair. Expressive mouth. Clever, dryly amused voice.

Aidan.

I grab for my gun as my eyes pop open, but I’ve barely gotten my fingers around it when it’s wrenched out of my grip and tossed several feet away.

He’s leaning over me, still reaching down. It takes less than a second for me to realize that he’s not reaching for me.

He’s going for my backpack.

He’s going to take the package James gave me to deliver.

Fucking selfish bastard. He won’t even let me have that.

I lever my arm back and thrust it forward again, tightening my fingers into a fist that lands against the side of Aidan’s jaw.

He jerks back slightly, and that gives me the opportunity to grab for my bag and stumble over toward my pistol.

I haven’t reached it yet when he’s on me again, grabbing for the strap of my pack and trying to push me away at the same time. I kick out at his ankles, connecting with one of them hard enough to make him huff and loosen his grip. Then I kick him again, this time higher. In the groin.

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