Rules of Survival(40)

If Mom had gone to the police with the information she had, sure, she might be in jail, but she’d be alive. Safe. She would have gotten out eventually and we could have had the rest of our lives together. Instead she ran. She ran, and dragged me with her. It just wasn’t far or fast enough to get away.

And now that she was gone, it was all on me. I loved her, but I couldn’t help feeling just a smidge bitter about it all. I had to deal with her problem. Her mistake. One I didn’t even understand. She’d left me holding the bag and never told me what was inside. It wasn’t fair, and I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

But what was done was done. Right now all I cared about was a shower. They usually had the water turned on in these things. It wasn’t always hot, but at this point, that didn’t matter. I was gross. My biggest hurdle would be sucking it up enough to do it with Shaun literally inches away.

I cleared my throat and stood. “I’m going to take a shower,” I announced. Did it without my voice wobbling, too. It was impressive, considering the knot in the pit of my stomach about the size of Texas.

“O-okay,” Shaun said, standing as well. His lips split with a grin that both terrified and excited me. His hands dropped to his waist, and he undid the button on his pants and winked. “Shall we?”

Oh my God. How the hell was I going to do this?

“How about this,” I said, leading him toward the bathroom. “You be a gentleman—I know, I know, it’s a stretch—and stand with your back to me, then I’ll do the same. Nice and easy. Nothing to be nervous about.”

“Nervous,” he said with a waggle of his brow. “Who’s nervous? Excited, maybe.”

“Can we—” I took a deep breath. “Can we just do this and not make a big deal out of it?”

He sobered, throwing his hands up. “Sorry. I promise, no peeking. Not unless you ask.” Eyes smoldering, he added, “You know, in case you need someone to wash your…back?”

I snorted and turned on the water. Thank God it worked. “Unlikely.”

Shaun turned his back to me, and after a moment of hesitation, I pulled off my borrowed sweatpants and underwear, then yanked the T-shirt over my head. The most I could do with it was slide the material down the chain, away from the spray of water, and hope for the best. I did the same with my bra.

I was in and out as fast as possible, partially because it was unnerving to shower while chained to one of the hottest guys I’d ever seen, and partially because I’d been right. There was no hot water. It was tepid at best, which was still slightly better than being smelly and chained to another person. I rinsed out my underwear and slipped the sweatpants back on.

“My arm is starting to hurt,” I complained once Shaun had been under the water for a few minutes. The way I had to hold it, stretched and twisted behind me, was starting to cause pins and needles. His T-shirt hung from my end of the cuffs, since, like mine, without ripping it, there was no way to get it on and off, and his jeans were in a pile on the floor to my left.

A moment later, the water turned off, and I heard the thin curtain move aside, along with rustling fabric. Luckily the dealership had gone all out, decking the demo with all the comforts of home. Two matching towels and a small container of shampoo, right along with a tiny yellow rubber ducky sitting on the sink. “Feel free to turn around,” he said.

So I did, thinking he’d finished getting dressed. And he had—sort of.

His hands were at the waist of his jeans, doing up the button. They were just a bit too big, and hung from narrow hips in a way that accentuated the definition of his muscles. And holy shit, were those muscles defined.

His shirt still hung from the chain, and with the better quality of light than in the feed store, I could finally see his ink clearly. There was a black phoenix rising from a river of fire on the upper right-hand corner of his chest, spilling onto his shoulder and neck. That’s the one I’d caught a glimpse of when he’d first come into the cabin. Then, in addition to that, there were two different Chinese symbols, one over his heart, and another above his navel. The one above his navel was slightly warped, though. The ink around the top edge seemed distorted, but without a closer look, I couldn’t tell why.

“Survival and strength,” he said quietly, setting the towel down. He pulled the T-shirt up along the chain and stretched across to run the sleeve under the water. It was splattered with blood from his wound.

He knew I was watching, and I should have turned away, but I couldn’t do it. Obviously he was nice to look at, but there was something about the way he spoke, a pitch in his voice that drew me closer. “Survival,” I repeated, eyes dropping to the tattoo above his navel. “That one, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

Yeah. Survival. That was all my life was about. Go here. Hide there. Rinse, repeat. I hated it. I deserved more than that. Even if it was just this once.

The words came out before I could think. “Back on the road, you kissed me,” I said.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice slightly hoarse.

My heart threatened to beat right from my chest, pulse making it nearly impossible to catch my breath. Every moment in my life from here on counted tenfold. I had no idea what tomorrow would bring. “Do you want to do it again?”

Silence.

My heart went from erratic to still in half a beat, and I felt the rush of warmth, embarrassed beyond words that I’d actually said it out loud. I started to turn away, but something warm closed over my forearm.