Page 96 of The Outsider
“Not directly, but there’s always a threatening undercurrent with men like him. Not used to being told ‘no.’ Fortunately, he’s also stupid and not very calculated.”
When we got back to the house, Kimmy and I made dinner. John was supposed to be home to eat, but we finally admitted defeat after a half hour of waiting for him and dug in. After dinner, I wandered aimlessly on the first floor before deciding to go to bed.
Upstairs in our room, I walked into the closet to put my clothes away. Unsurprisingly, my side of the closet was somewhat chaotic, with clothing folded haphazardly and partially hanging off of hangers. Meanwhile, John’s side was neat as a pin, each item folded with care and sorted into precise, sensible piles by type, colour, and season.
I was seized by a sudden sadness and yearning that I didn’t completely understand as I stared at a stack of his t-shirts. Other than today, I’d barely spent any time with John in the last couple weeks. It wasn’t his fault, of course. He’d been working so hard to make this place livable again, along with hunting to feed us through the winter and his patrol duties.
And Kimmy was busy right alongside him, both with the restoration of Summerhurst and with the return to her nursing duties. So far, Asha had tried to be home as little as possible, heading out on scavenging missions daily, and even if she’d been around, I knew she’d take any complaint from me as further confirmation that we didn’t belong here. And I wanted to belong here. Ineededto belong here.
I pressed my fingers to my eyes.Surrounded by people, and I’m still lonely somehow.
Without giving it too much thought, I grabbed one of John’s more well-loved t-shirts from a shelf. I took a shower in the ensuite bathroom, washing my hair for the first time in a week and luxuriating once more in the miracle of indoor plumbing. When I got out, I pulled the grey t-shirt over my head. The hem skimmed my thighs, and the soft, well-worn material smelled of laundry soap and the indefinable scent of John’s skin.
I crawled into bed, hair still damp, and turned out the lights. The bed was cold without my human space heater, and loneliness closed in again like a vice. I rolled onto his side of the bed, then pulled the t-shirt collar over my nose and inhaled deeply.
I must’ve fallen asleep that way, because the next thing I knew, the fabric was being gently lifted off my face and a warm, familiar hand was smoothing my hair. I stirred but felt too groggy to open my eyes.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” John whispered.
“Where were you…?” I trailed off, too sleepy to continue.
“I’m sorry,” he replied regretfully. “There was an emergency at work, right at the end of my shift. Alan Wheeler fell off his roof and injured his back. It took us a while to safely move him to the clinic.”
I sighed and rolled over, eager to go back to sleep. I heard him undress, then felt his weight as he climbed into bed on my usual side.
“There a reason we’re playing musical sleeping spots tonight?”
I made a noncommittal sound and buried my face in his pillow.
“Why are you wearing my shirt?”
“Smells like you,” I mumbled.
There was a pause, and then I found myself enveloped by his body as he hauled my back against his chest and enclosed me in his arms.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, pained. “I haven’t been there for you lately, have I?”
“You have,” I replied. “Just busy. Not your fault.”
He covered every inch of me he could reach with kisses, and I squirmed.
“I’m trying to sleep!” I squeaked, and he chuckled as he settled in, spooning me.
“I have a day off tomorrow,” he murmured, tucking my hair behind my ear. “We could go to that trading post I told you about. It’s a couple hours’ ride.”
“Now you have my attention,” I teased.
“Figures,” he said, amused. “You got the horse-riding bug. Anyway, I thought maybe after, I could make you dinner.”
“And ravish me by moonlight?” I asked, batting my eyelashes before realizing he couldn’t see them. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because he snorted.
“I mean, if that’s what you want, I’m not gonna say no,” he replied, and I could hear his smile in his voice. “I’m sure I can power through.”
“Power through? There are other ways for a lady to get off these days, you know, if it’s such a hardship for you.”
I squeaked with laughter as he pounced, playfully pinning me against the mattress.
“True,” John said, “butmy lady’s pleasure is never a hardship. It’s the whole damn point.”
