He looked different fast asleep. Unguarded. She’d never seen him like this before. Her anger evaporated. It had fortified her for so long that its absence left a gaping hole. He looked so alone in the bed without her. The sight of him hurt her heart. People always talked about sex making them feel closer to someone. In all honesty, she’d never felt that before today. The connection had never seemed especially profound, not until Nick. How f**king unfair.
But she couldn’t stay.
Roslyn shut her eyes and gathered her reserves. Slowly she extricated herself. Every rustle of the sheets and clank of the chain seemed magnified tenfold. He didn’t stir. First one foot touched the ground, then the second. Her body slid out from beneath his hand and she sat up, then stood.
Her knickers and jeans were caught on the chain. She pulled them back over her foot and up her leg. Inserted her other leg and drew them over her hips. Between her thighs was wet and swollen. Sore from what they’d done and how hard they’d done it. It had to have been eight or nine months since anyone had touched her there, and he wasn’t small. There’d been few preliminaries—not that she’d wanted any. She’d been insane with need for him. She’d been insane, full stop.
Now wasn’t the time to think about it.
She crept toward the kitchen. If he woke she was getting a bottle of water, nothing more. The chain sounded so damn loud. Her fingers curled into fists. The metal links clattered and crashed but he slept on. It would be okay. She’d steal the Golden Goose and get gone.
His jeans lay forgotten on the floor. She slipped her hand into one of the back pockets. Nothing. Had he been lying? But the other pocket … yes, success. Cool metal met her fingers. Excitement beat through her. This was it.
Please don’t wake up.
The key slid into the lock and it snicked open. She slid the links of chain free and set them down quietly. Almost didn’t recognize her ankle without its restraint. There were a couple of red marks on her skin and a small gray bruise above her heel.
Roslyn scrambled into her T-shirt then rose slowly to her feet. Her bra was AWOL and she would have to go barefoot. She didn’t dare open the cupboard to search for shoes. But she tucked his Swiss Army Knife into her pocket, just in case.
Fast asleep, Nick looked almost sweet and innocent. Candlelight softened his features. The blankets were bunched up at his waist, leaving his top half exposed. Such a beautiful body; it was awe-inspiring. And she didn’t know if she loved him or hated him, but she knew she had to go. The ache inside her expanded and pushed at her ribs. So much pressure that she might implode. This whole situation was so wrong it warped her little mind.
Out the door she slipped. Out onto the landing and down the wooden walkway. She laid down the plank to bridge the gap and cautiously darted across. There was a noise behind her. Maybe the wind in the trees. Maybe Nick rising and looking for her.
She ran.
Gravel cut into her feet. Everything was wet from the rain, the scent of damp earth strong. She threw open the pickup’s door. No keys. Where were the f**king keys? Not above the sun visor. She climbed in and reached for the glovebox. Maps and rubbish spilled out onto the floor, but no keys.
She’d run out of time. Her heartbeat was drumming in her ears, deafeningly loud.
The sun was lower than she’d anticipated. The cabin door remained closed … but for how long?
Roslyn jumped out of the pickup and headed for the highway on foot. There’d be something. A car she could start or another house she could hide in for the night. She’d return to the school tomorrow and make them see sense, work something out.
Her thin T-shirt was useless against the ice-cold wind blowing through her. She jogged past the other cabins. Stones kept cutting into her feet, but she’d manage. There’d be no stopping now. Yes, she’d head back to the school. Neil wasn’t selling her twice. She’d beat the wanker with a wine bottle if she had to. Bash some sense into him. Her days of playing victim were over.
The muscles in her legs burned. Nick would follow, but she’d deal with that later. She wasn’t going back to the chain without a fight.
It was better when she hit the highway. The asphalt was kinder to the soles of her feet. There wasn’t anything visible in either direction except trees. Lots and lots of trees with the evening’s shadows growing beneath. Town was to the left.
Back up the driveway there were no signs of life. He wasn’t coming. Probably wasn’t even awake yet, because when he woke—shit. He’d be furious.
Except a part of her strongly disagreed. Nick wouldn’t be stomping and yelling because he’d be too scared for her. He’d be beside himself. No matter the time of day, he’d follow her. She knew it. He would come after her to find her and protect her. No matter the danger to himself he would follow her out into the night.
A chill spilled through her.
Nick.
She stood by the roadside, frozen in place. Terrified at what might happen next. Disaster waited around every corner and one wrong step could cost lives. Her life, and maybe Nick’s life too.
What if she did go back to the school? Because if she was brutally honest she had to admit that she’d be sitting there waiting for him. Waiting for them to sort this out and come to some sort of agreement where she wouldn’t be torn in two.
Shit.
She needed to talk to him. They needed to sit down and work this out. What she was doing standing by the roadside as dusk closed in? She didn’t even know anymore. Running away wasn’t the answer. As her father had said more than once, cowards and pussies left things unresolved. Go Dad. Double shit. She had to talk to Nick.
“Fuck it.”
Roslyn about-faced and headed back up the drive, swearing constantly. Badmouthing him and herself and the whole f**ked up world. Not to forget this bitch of a situation. Of all the times to have unresolved feelings for a guy. How f**king old was she? Fifteen? God the drama, it sucked. The first star winked into existence on the horizon. It peeked out from behind the limbs of swaying gum trees, taunting her. The storm clouds were moving north. Her lips felt chapped from the cold, or maybe that had more to do with beard rash. Her poor pained feet were frozen.
The first moan came from a green tin shed, tucked back from the driveway. A second answered it from a nearby cabin. The door stood open. Something was inside there—an infected.
What the f**k had she done?
She pushed herself faster and something dug into her foot. A piercing pain shot up her leg. Hopping in place, she tried to keep her balance. A shard of rock had punctured the sole of her foot. Blood dripped from between her toes. With a tug and a wince she pulled it out. Damn, it hurt.