When he reached his home, there were quite a few kids gathered on the lawn, waiting for him. When they saw him approaching, they ran to him, dozens of small feet tapping out a stampeding rhythm as they charged to greet him.
“Gripp! Where are we going today?”
“Are we going to play baseball?”
“No, basketball! That’s my favorite.”
“Could you show us how to set snares?”
“Or hunt for tigers?”
Gripp quieted the group, smiling as he observed how happy and relaxed the children were. They had no fear of working in the mine, not anymore, and they now had decent houses to live in, clean water, and plenty of food. He treated every one of them as if they were his own.
“I think we’ll play baseball,” he said. “Then maybe we can make some fishhooks and go down to the river for a few hours.”
Some of the kids cheered while others grumbled. Gripp knew that he couldn’t please them all, and on the next day, he’d choose another activity, so no one felt left out.
They started to set up for a game of baseball, and Gripp stood out as coach. They played for a couple of hours before the kids started to get tired. Some of the younger ones went home, hugging him before they left and thanking him for the game.
With a much smaller group of older kids, Gripp headed to the nearby creek and taught them to make fishing hooks. They sat on the bank, listening to the stream gurgling as they waited for a bite.
While the kids were with him, Gripp was content. It gave him a great sense of joy not just to help the kids but to train them to survive as well.
As the darkness grew deeper, the kids began to head home. Some of them caught a few fish and were excited to take their catch home for their families. As the last boy finally left, Gripp stared into the darkness and waited.
It didn’t take long until the memories began to drift through his mind. The sound, scent, and faded dark of the jungle reminded him too much of April. Sometimes it was like he’d fallen into the past, and if he reached out, she would be there, right beside him.
Gripp thought about shifting and running through the jungle to let his panther release some stress. His big cat was miserable, though, and the wild, fiery spirit of a shifter did not rise in him. He was merely exhausted and heartbroken, a tired ex-prisoner trying to soothe his heart in any way he could.
He turned and walked back to his small hut. When he got back, he showered and ate, not paying much attention to the food. As he headed to his simple bunk, Gripp thought that surely, this time, he would fall asleep easily and dream deep.
Gripp's body sang with tension when he stretched out on the mattress. His muscles seemed to fight each other as his heart rate rose and his blood pounded. Sweat beaded on his brow, and the panther within growled and hissed, lashing its tail.
I can’t sleep. Why can’t I sleep?
Gripp was tired, terribly so. He had purposefully exhausted himself every day in an attempt to avoid this insomnia. Still, over the last few months, he’d barely had a night or two where he had fallen asleep easily and slept the night through.
As he tossed and turned, desperate to get comfortable, Gripp finally admitted to himself that he had not had a decent night’s sleep since the last time he’d slept with April by his side.
Gripp turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. His joints ached, and his muscles throbbed. He wanted her so badly at moments like this. He felt like he couldn’t be satisfied unless he got up and ran to her, crossing continents and oceans as fast as he could until he held her in his arms again.
These thoughts always ended the same way. With the memory of her face as she’d slept. He’d paused at the door and gazed at her one last time, hoping, praying, that she would run to him and tell him that she couldn’t be separated from him.
Yes, of course, she had to have her work, but if she really wanted him, they could have figured out a way to be together.
But she hadn’t run to him. She hadn’t come to him and begged him to stay. She’d just turned and walked away.
Gripp sighed, turning over again to glare at the wall. He had traded one prison for another, it seemed. This one did not involve bars or chips inserted into his neck … this one he had made with his own decisions.
He closed his eyes and focused on his breath, trying to relax enough to sleep. As he began to drift away, his dreams brought April to him, and finally, his misery lifted. It was just a dream, but it was such a relief to hold her again that he didn’t care.
He wondered if he would ever see her again or if the only release he would ever have from now on was in his dreams.
THIRTY-THREE
APRIL
The plane began its descent, and April felt anticipation rush through her like a wave of fire. She felt alive again for the first time in months, overwhelmed with feelings. Her heart pounded, and her mouth felt dry. She didn’t know if she was excited or terrified.
