Page 46 of Resisting the Alien Rider

“What is it?” I asked again, crossing my arms and standing in front of him. I used my best big-sister voice on him. The one that usually said I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Or believe any lies.

Resigned, he sighed and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“Back’s burned.”

“What?!” I hurried around him and got down on my knees. Before he could argue or pull himself out of reach, I grasped the thick dark rope of his ponytail and tossed it forwards over his shoulder. The ragged lines of scar tissue looked dark. Inflamed.

“What the hell happened?” I asked, my voice sharp even as my touch on his skin was gentle.

“Why I always wore the vest,” he grunted as Ibrushed a tender spot. “It’s like our ears. Scar tissue is more sensitive to sunburn.”

“Garrek,” I whispered, biting my lip to hold tears at bay. Maybe this was why he’d been so fucking weird with me lately. He was in constant pain from long hours with his back exposed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“No point. I don’t have another vest. My hair covers it some.”

“Clearly not enough!” I cried. “I have sunscreen, you dope! And anti-inflammatory creams!”

“I have a big back. I’d use it all up. Be a waste.”

“How could that possibly be a waste,” I demanded, “if it’s something that could help you feel better?”

“Because you need them, Magnolia!” He twisted so abruptly and violently to face me that I fell flat on my ass. “You have a whole life to live with Oaken after you leave me!” His eyes seared me. “Do you think Oaken has fancy human creams and medications to replace those ones? Of course not!”

His eyes closed, and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he opened his eyes again, there were lines of pain etched around them. “I can’t, Magnolia. I can’t keep… Keep them.”

You have a whole life to live with Oaken after you leave me.

A month ago, that sentence would have filled me with joy.

But now…

Now, when I heard the words, it was as if each one landed like a blow. Feeling suddenly bruised, like my insides had been battered, I got unsteadily to my feet. Iwent back into the tent, feeling Garrek’s eyes on my back the entire way.

Inside the tent, I let myself cry. Silently, because I knew Garrek with those Zabrian ears of his would hear me if I weren’t careful. I ripped open my med kit, took out the tubes of sunscreen and anti-inflammatory cream, and hated how small they were. Because Garrek was right. He was big. He had a lot of scars. The tubes would be empty in a matter of weeks, if not days.

In that moment, I didn’t even care. I would have emptied the entire contents on him in a single day if it would have made a difference.

But I knew he wouldn’t let me. He would never allow me to sit there and put the cream on him if it meant I’d later go without. He wouldn’t let me help him.

I glanced around the tent, trying desperately to come up with other solutions. Maybe I could make him a new vest. But out of what? If Garrek had had any spare hides or fabric, he likely would have made his own by now. I’d seen him mending Killian’s bedroll before. He knew how to sew.

I looked at the bedroll in here now but abandoned the idea of cutting it up almost as soon as I thought of it. This was Garrek’s. Even if I was making something for him, I didn’t feel that I had the right to ruin it. And, despite the fact that spring was advancing into summer, it was getting colder and colder at night out here. Once I met up with Oaken, Garrek would need his bedroll back.

What, then? Use some of my own clothing? None of my shirts would fit him, and I didn’t really have anything extra to cut up. I’d packed the bare minimum: pants, a few tops, underwear, one set of now blood-stained pyjamas, and the jacket, hat, and boots provided by Tasha, the bridal program’s facilitator on Elora Station.

I did have a little bit of yarn and my crochet hook, but it was nowhere near enough to make Garrek an entire vest.

I didn’t have anything extra. Nothing frivolous. Nothing I could live without.

Except…

My eyes snagged on a sliver of lacy white fabric in my bag. Slowly, I pulled the garment out.

My wedding dress.

It was the one thing that I didn’t really need. The one pretty, romantic, non-practical item of clothing I’d brought. I’d worn it my first day here, when I’d expected to meet and marry Oaken upon arrival.

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