Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(41)

Alex fared far worse than we did. The only men’s clothing to be found was a white button-down shirt, a long black tie, and a wrinkled pair of dress pants. He opted to keep his filthy BDUs on, but decided to exchange his ruined and blood-stained T-shirt for the button-down.

I found myself watching him as he pulled the shirt over his head, mesmerized by the way the muscles in his back and arms would flex with even the simplest movement. Thomas had always been in great shape, but Alex—the breadth of him, his stature, and the size of his muscles—put Thomas to shame.

I felt a chill then, not from the weather, but brought on by the direction of my thoughts. What was I doing staring at this man like this? And comparing him to my husband, my first husband, who I’d loved more than anything? What was wrong with me?

I started to turn away, ashamed of myself, when Alex turned back around, fully dressed, and slipped quickly back into his military-issued jacket. Seeing the button-down beneath the dark and dirty canvas, I started to laugh.

“You look handsome,” I blurted out.

“Yeah?” He smiled at me. “Should I put the tie on too?”

Before I could answer, Evelyn stepped between us. She looked from me to Alex and then back to me again. “What’s the plan?” she asked, her tone serious, instantly breaking the lighthearted moment.

Not knowing, I looked again at Alex, whose smile was now gone. Sighing, he closed his eyes.

“South,” he said, and when he opened his eyes, his usual grimace was back in place. “We head south like we’d planned.”

? ? ?

We spent the night in the cabin, searching every nook and cranny for anything the man might have left behind. In the end, when we gathered our finds, it didn’t amount to much. Other than a few articles of clothing, a tin mug, a rusty old hammer, and a plastic jug, there was nothing of worth left.

While Alex went out in search of dinner, Evelyn and I busied ourselves tying together some of the little girl’s clothing to make a sling purse of sorts, and used that to store what we’d collected.

By the time Alex returned it was dark out, and Evelyn had started a small fire in the pot-bellied stove for both light and warmth. Huddled together around the small stove, we ate our dinner, consisting of two chipmunks and some berries, mostly in silence.

Evelyn, I noticed, was more withdrawn then I’d ever seen her before. She was moody, her highs and lows becoming more and more noticeable. She outright snapped at Alex, and avoided any sort of conversation at all with me. Although she stayed by my side, still seeking me as a source of comfort, I could tell something was definitely wrong. There was an inner turmoil I could see, anguish and anger written all over her face. I felt helpless, not knowing the right thing to do or say to ease any of it for her, so in the end I didn’t say anything at all.

During the night, while Evelyn and I were occupying the small bed together, and Alex had lain on the floor in front of the door, the wind began to pick up, causing the temperature to drop drastically inside the cabin. Without blankets or the added body heat of Evelyn, who’d curled in on herself and was facing the wall, I woke to the sound of my own teeth chattering.

Freezing, I sat up in bed, finding Alex wide awake and propped up against the wall beside the stove, a small fire still blazing within.

“It-it’s c-c-cold,” I whispered, rubbing my hands up and down my arms.

“Come over here,” he whispered. “The fire is warm.”

Not wanting to wake Evelyn, I hesitated only a moment before I tiptoed toward him, crossing the creaking floorboards as quietly as possible. Holding up his arms in welcome, Alex spread his knees apart, indicating that I should take the space between them. Part of me balked at such an intimate embrace, but the other part of me, the part that was cold and feeling dejected about our current circumstances, wanted to readily accept the warmth he was offering.

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, to be that close to him, and took the empty space of floor beside him instead.

“Lei…”

I glanced up, meeting his gaze, finding his features twisted with some sort of internal pain.

“I would never hurt you,” he said softly.

Feeling my cheeks heat, I looked away and out across the cabin. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, of course I knew that. But some part of me, even the part of me that knew I could trust him, still couldn’t fathom being that close to him, or being that close to anyone other than Evelyn.

“I should have killed him,” he continued, his tone having drastically changed. Instead of soft, meant to be comforting, he sounded darker, angrier.

Surprised, I glanced back up at him, finding him staring off much like I had been doing. Only he was rigid now, his body having gone taut, his jaw hard and starkly outlined, ticking ominously in the firelight.

“It wasn’t your responsibility,” I said gently. “I wasn’t your responsibility, Alex.”

His eyes slanted toward me, his expression impassioned and enraged. “You don’t get it,” he said through clenched teeth. “You don’t know how I—” He cut himself off abruptly, his eyes flashing angrily, and looked away again.

I stared up at him, feeling both helpless and confused, not wanting him to lay blame of the outcome of my forced and abusive marriage at his feet, yet not knowing what to do or say to change how he felt. He was such a quiet man, usually only speaking when spoken to or when he believed it absolutely necessary, but I had to imagine that there was so much more going on inside him, far more than he ever let on.