I want to ask her what happened, but my curiosity can wait. After a while, she places her head back on my shoulder. I can’t resist nuzzling her neck. She’s warmer now. I rub my hands over her belly as we sit on the floor in front of the fire without words. Her hands move to cover mine. Her fingers are warm now, too. Not icy like when I found her.
Good.
“It was my fault . . .” she whispers.
I look up at her, my lips still hovering by her neck. “What was, baby?”
“Joshua.” The word is rote. Emotionless. Like a shock victim.
I should have thought of shock.
Fuck me.
“What’d you mean?” I ask.
“That he died. It’s my fault he died.”
“Hell, Evie. Don’t say that.”
Those words will bury their way into her soul and eat it from the inside out.
“I should have known. I should have put a stop to it the first time. But I’m just a coward, and now a good man is dead.” Her voice is too soft, but it drops an octave as she says, “And it’s all my fault.”
Grabbing her shoulders with both hands, I tug her around to face me. She relents and turns on her seat, brown eyes finding mine. I tilt her chin up when she tries to break eye contact.
“Hey, you listen to me. It was anaccident. By definition, that’s no one’s fault. Least of all yours.”
She’s shaking her head. My fingers slip away.
“It wasn’t. I know now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I made the wrong choice.”
She lies on the blankets and curls up on her side.
Christ.
I’m no more the wiser than I was back in the forest where this is concerned. But I won’t push her. Not now.
Evie falls asleep in front of the fire, and I lay beside her, studying the old tin roof like I’ll be able to find the answers to the mystery of this girl who has burrowed her way into my heart.
When none present themselves and my back aches from the hard floor, I fold another blanket around Evie and pad to the bunk. I don’t want to wake her, so I take the only pillow from the bunk and gently slide it under her head. She moans the sweetest sound but doesn’t wake.
Back on the bunk, I lie on my back with my hands under my head. Exhausted from a day in the sun and crashing around the forest mid-storm, I close my eyes. My body sinks into the old thin mattress and I let sleep take me under.
I wake with a start. The early rays of morning stream through the opaque windows. Evie is sound asleep on the floor, the fire long gone out. But it’s much warmer now, the remnants of the storm’s cold trail a distant memory. I sit up and run a hand over her clothes. They’re mostly dry.
“Please tell me there’s coffee in this shack of yours,” Evie drawls softly.
I roll off the bunk and set up a small pot with instant coffee from my bag and water from the rainwater tank, setting it on the burner of the stove. Evie hugs the blanket around herself, watching me. She looks paler than usual.
“How you feeling?” I ask.
“Fine, I’m okay.” Her eyes snap to the front door, as if she can avoid me by not looking at me.
“What the hell were you doing out in the storm?” I try to rein in my worry, but my words still sound harsher than intended.
