Page 28 of Unrest
I put it all on and opened the door. I pushed forward against a blast of wind to close the door as quickly as possible.
“Pepper?” Rylen called from ten feet away. “What are you doing? Whose is that?” He pointed the binoculars toward the coat. I raised my tired legs to trudge through half a foot of snow until I was at his side.
“They were Thomas’s mom’s,” I explained.
He nodded. “What was everyone laughing about in there?”
My face warmed despite the cold. “Nothing. They were just being dirty.”
“Dirty, huh?” He stared out. “What’s Amber Tate’s idea of dirty?”
I made an awkward chuffing sound. “I don’t know.” My face could officially melt all the snow around us. Just the thought of dirty talk with Rylen . . .
“Aw, I embarrassed you.” He chuckled. “That’s cute.”
I elbowed him, but the gesture was muffled by our many layers.
We stood side by side, looking out at the wintery landscape. The smattering of pines were flaky white, and the hills looked like smooth mounds. Snow hid every jutting rock and imperfection. Flakes drifted down lighter now, and the cloud covering wasn’t as thick overhead as it had been hours ago. Some patches of sky had stars peeking out, bright and brilliant.
I marveled. “It’s funny how scary the snow was earlier when we were in it, but now that there’s a cabin with a fireplace it’s . . .”
Rylen peered down at me. “Stunning.”
“Yeah,” I whispered back. “But do you think it’s safe here?”
“I’m not too worried about this place since DRI already checked it out,” he said. “Hopefully it’s off their radar now.” Yet he still peered through the binoculars, turning slowly in all directions.
I stood with him for a long time. Long enough to get cold again. I crossed my arms and took turns bending my knees to try and keep blood flowing. I tried, and failed, to blow smoke rings with my breath. I looked over to see him staring off, binoculars lowered.
“What are you thinking?” I whispered.
Air puffed from his nose and he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me.”
He was quiet so long I thought he would refuse, and then: “I wonder if it mattered at all that I got Liv out of her village. Maybe it would have been better for her to have gone with her cousins. Maybe she’d still be alive.”
My gut pinched. Of course he was thinking of her. The woman he’d tried to save. The woman he’d hoped to love someday. I wanted to tell him he’d given her a good life here in the U.S., but after learning how unfulfilling their marriage was, I didn’t think it would be much comfort.
“I highly doubt she’d still be . . .” I stopped myself, feeling callous. “I mean, those small towns and villages around the world were the worst to suffer from water plagues.”
He didn’t respond. After a minute he simply raised the binoculars again and kept scouting. He still felt guilty. He probably still blamed himself for not bringing her with us, therefore letting her be taken to that camp and dying with my family. My parents and Abuela cared for her and I knew she liked them, but I understood what Rylen meant. She might have died happier with family members in her homeland, rather than people she’d only known for a few weeks. I wanted to tell him there’d been no way of knowing, and that he’d done nothing wrong, but they were only words.
Time passed and the wind picked up as the clouds thickened overhead again. When my teeth began to chatter, Rylen put one arm around me, pulling me close in front of him, even as he kept watch with the binoculars in his other hand.
I snuggled nearer, pressing us together to garner warmth. His sweatshirt was wet, but I still rested my face against his chest.
“You don’t have to stay out here,” he murmured.
“I know. But I want to.”
“Well, I appreciate the company.”
I lifted my face to smile at him just as he pulled the binoculars away to look down at me. We both tightened our grips, jolting to find our faces so close. I felt the warmth of his breath on my nose and cheeks. I knew his mouth would be warm. So warm. When he didn’t move away, I slowly went up on my tip-toes and pressed my lips to his cheek, his scruff rough against my softness. I stayed there, my face against his. Oh, my God, what was I doing? This wasn’t like holding hands. We were too close. Too intimate. His breaths puffed out faster. My hands moved up to his chest.
“Pepper . . .” I could feel his heart beating fast through his sweatshirt.
I didn’t move, didn’t speak. His face turned toward me the slightest bit, enough to put our lips even closer, our breaths mingling. Then he cleared his throat and turned his head away. “You should probably go in out of the cold. Get some rest.”
All warmth I’d garnered slipped away as I stepped back and wrapped my arms around myself, ashamed and embarrassed. Holy shit. The guy hadjustbeen talking about his dead wife, and here I was, getting in his face. What was wrong with me?
“Okay,” I whispered. He turned from me and rubbed his face. I trudged back into the cabin without having the guts to look at him again.
