Page 16 of Protected

So strange.

There doesn’t seem to be as much of it now to fit inside my too-small self.

When I’ve controlled myself, I turn around to see that Deck is still standing there. He’s dropped the towel on the ground, and he’s just watching me.

“I’m going to lie down and get some rest,” I tell him, so self-conscious I have to fight not to simply run away. “Is that all right with you?”

He nods soberly.

He’s still standing motionless, and it’s deeply disturbing. But I like this quiet spot. It’s out of sight of everyone else. So if I feel like crying, I can do it with a semblance of privacy.

I step over to pick up the towel and then lie down on the grass, using the towel as a pillow. It smells like Deck, but I don’t care.

It’s not that bad.

I turn on my side with my back to him and pull myself into a loose fetal position.

I work on not crying out loud. I work on it for only a few minutes. Then I can’t work on anything because I’ve fallen asleep.

I wake up when someone nudges my leg.

At first I have no idea where I am or what’s happening or what hour or day or year it is. But then I breathe in the scent of Deck and turn over to see he’s still there.

He’s sitting down, leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. Close enough that he can reach me with his foot, which is how he woke me up.

I sigh and sit up, sore and exhausted and oddly lighter than I was. “You provoked me into losing it on purpose,” I say bluntly.

He meets my eyes.

I blow out another breath and stretch my arms above my head. “Well, I do feel a little better for some reason. I don’t even know why.” A lot of hair has slipped out of my braided ponytail, so I pull out the elastics and start from scratch, smoothing it down to secure it tightly and then braiding the tail. “I guess you overheard what I was saying to Burgundy this morning, didn’t you? About me feeling trapped. Frozen. When it counts.”

He nods slowly.

“And that’s what the whole thing was about? Proving I’m not actually trapped. That I’m able to lash out if I need to.”

He makes a series of gestures. One that looks like he’s grabbing someone. Then a repeated punching of his own palm with his right hand. He nods at me a few times.

“Yeah. I get it. I still don’t like my chances of overpowering a much bigger man, but I do want to fight back. I really do.”

I’m about to get up when he stops me. He hooks a couple of fingers into the neckline of his T-shirt and pulls, stretching it far enough to expose a lot of his shoulder.

There’s a red, angry blotch on his skin. From where I repeatedly hit him.

“Oh shit. I did hurt you. You shouldn’t have let me do that to you.”

He raises a finger to stop me, touches his shoulder, and then gives me a thumbs-up sign.

For no good reason, the sight of huge, shaggy Bigfoot giving me a cheesy thumbs-up makes me snort in amusement. Then I start to laugh. Then I can’t stop.

He’s shaking his head bemusedly as he stands up and then leans over to extend a hand to me.

I let him help me to my feet, still laughing a little.

I really don’t know what comes over me, but I giggle on and off for the rest of the afternoon.

6

Four weeks passin no time.

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