Erasing Faith(93)

Dumping my armful of supplies, I began collecting rocks from the clearing. Once I had enough, I laid them in a circle on the dusty earth just off the side of the cabin, then turned for Wes’ woodpile. Within minutes, I’d stacked several logs in a pyramid and shoved some dry twigs in the space beneath them.

My patience expired after a few unsuccessful attempts to light a fire with nothing but matches and grass. Twisting the cap on my Jameson bottle, I doused the logs with a splash and watched giddily as flames began to consume my makeshift fire-pit. The logs burned warm and bright as I spread my quilt on the lawn a short distance away and sprawled out on my stomach to watch them crack and hiss.

As the sun set and full night descended, I fed the fire and took small sips of whiskey on alternating intervals, which sent an entirely different kind of flame burning down my throat and into my empty stomach. I knew it was cold — I could see my breath puffing in the darkness — but I felt perfectly warm.

Whether from the fire or the liquor, I didn’t care much.

Eventually, I flipped over onto my back and looked up at the stars until they blurred before my eyes.

The last thing I thought before my lids slipped closed was that they were almost as beautiful out here as they’d been from a bridge in Budapest, with a boy’s arms wrapped around me and a future brighter than the moon painted in my mind.

***

“Fuck. You have to be kidding me.”

I knew that voice, but right now it sounded low and pissed off, grumbling in my direction like a freight train. I felt fingertips against my cheeks, patting my skin lightly, but like a stubborn child refusing to wake, I turned my head so they couldn’t bother me anymore.

“Perfect. Just perfect.” The voice was back, angrier than ever. “As if you weren’t already the biggest pain in the f*cking ass in history, now you’re a drunk pain in the f*cking ass.”

I made a light sound of protest.

“Open your eyes, Red.” His fingers traced my jawline lightly, and it felt good — so, so good. “Come on, time to wake up.”

I leaned my head into his touch so my cheek rested in his palm and listened to the breath hiss between his lips in a sharp exhale. He muttered a few words I couldn’t make out under his breath, and suddenly, his hands disappeared from my face altogether.

Some small, sober part of my brain was screaming that it was a good thing he’d backed off, but mostly I felt the loss of his touch like a physical blow. I wanted it back.

I opened my mouth to say so, but was cut off when he spoke again. This time, there was no anger in his voice — it was soft, coaxing.

“Faith.”

My eyes cracked open.

His face was inches from mine, illuminated by the firelight. We were so close, I could’ve counted his eyelashes, if I’d been clearheaded enough to count anything. His gaze burned into mine, hotter than the fire mere feet away, and all I could think was that he was absolutely, unquestionably the most gorgeous human being ever to walk this earth.

“You’re beautiful,” I told him, my voice sounding slurred even to my own ears.

His crooked smile appeared. “And you’re piss-drunk.”

“Nuh-uh,” I said, grinning goofily. “Am not.”

“Whatever you say.” He shook his head slightly, but his voice was amused. “Can you walk?”

I blew out an incredulous puff of air. “Totally.”

He pulled back and watched from a few feet away as I struggled to sit upright. As soon as my torso went perpendicular to the ground, the world around me began to spin dizzily. I could feel my body swaying in place, until two solid hands landed on my shoulders and steadied me.

“Totally,” he agreed wryly.

I tried — and failed — to narrow my eyes at him. “Are you mocking me?”

“Never.” His grin was back. “Can you put your arms around my neck, at least?”

“Why?”

“Time to put you to bed.”

“Ohhh, how presumptuous of you.” I giggled and draped my arms over his shoulders.

He laughed. “I’m not sure who you’re going to be angrier at in the morning — me, for witnessing this, or yourself, for downing a half-bottle of Jameson.”

Before I could retort, his arms looped under my knees and around my back, as he lifted me from the ground. My head immediately fell into the hollow of his throat. I focused my spinning eyes on the vein in his jugular, watching it thrum with each beat of his heart.

“I won’t be mad,” I protested, snuggling into his chest and pressing my nose against his warm skin.

“I very much doubt that.” The rumble of his laugh vibrated my entire body.

I sighed and closed my eyes as I listened to the screen door creaking open. Wes’ steps were steady as he crossed the cabin toward the bed. He came to a stop and began to shift me in his arms, preparing to set me down.

I didn’t want him to.

So, I pressed my lips against his neck and felt his entire body tense tighter than a bowstring.

His spine went ramrod straight as my tongue slipped between my lips, gently tracing the pounding vein in his neck. I worked one of my hands up into his hair as I pressed light, wet kisses against his skin. His arms tightened around me like steel bands and his voice cut through the air like glass.

“Faith. Stop.”