by Harloe Rae
The soft notes of her song tapper into silence. “Do you miss your computers?”
I furrow my brow, not taking the chance to look at her. “Why do you ask?”
“That’s what you do for work, right?”
A grunt rips from me with the satisfying crash of a falling bough. “I didn’t get much of a chance to dive into any projects. My release was only a week ago. More than that now, I suppose.”
The sound of something smacking into a solid surface almost has me turning around. “Urgh, right. That’s really unfair.”
“Yeah, it fucking sucks. I lost my shit when we first woke up, but things aren’t too bad. We’re doing well enough, right?”
“All things considered? Heck yes. We’re ruling this deserted in the wilderness ploy.”
That can’t be repeated enough. I set my sights on another thick limb and lift the blade. “We’ll survive from that sort of gumption alone.”
“Don’t forget the abundance of fresh fish.”
I drop my arm and glance at her. “Are you hungry?”
Blakely waves away my concern. “I’m fine and dandy. So, were you planning on returning to those types of tech jobs?”
That question gives me reason to pause. “You mean the kind that got me arrested?”
“Even I’m not ridiculous enough to suspect that.” Her blue eyes roll skyward. “I just meant computer stuff in general.”
“Sure, why not?” I resume chopping at the branch. “It’s the only thing I’m decent at.”
Choked laughter twinkles from behind me. “Um, that’s horribly false. I don’t have a ton of knowledge about your previous life, but that’s a fat lie.”
My stomach sinks at the vindication in her voice. If she ever talks to my parents, they’ll give her a few reasons to doubt me. “Nah, my skills are best used behind a screen.”
“Your talents are endless.” She motions at the pile of discarded wood surrounding me in hacked bits. “Exterior design, remember?”
I shake my head with a chuckle. “Yeah, maybe there’s a second career waiting for me.”
“I’ll be the first client banging on your door.”
The idea of that is more humorous than exterior design. “You’ll never have to want for anything.”
“Oh?” Blakely’s features flicker with heat and light a match to any resolve I’m foolish enough to preserve. Regardless of her lust aligning with mine, we’re on an icy fringe of the Arctic Circle. My balls will freeze before I have the option to thrust.
I snag a few logs and strut to where she’s standing. “That’s a dangerous look to point at a starving man.”
She snaps her jaw shut with a gasp. “Sorry.”
“Never apologize. Especially not for that.” That’s another statement I can’t repeat enough. I skate a finger along the fiery blush covering her cheek.
“Okay,” she murmurs while leaning into my touch. Underneath the red splotches, a chill is blooming.
After gathering more logs and bark, I kneel on the ground. Blakely crouches beside me with a bundle of twigs and dry vines. I hammer into the mostly frozen dirt with the butt of the hatchet.
She watches my straining effort. “Damn. I guess we can’t have it too easy.”
“Almost like a rock.” I’m chiseling at the surface and barely leaving a dent.
Blakely finds a sharp stick and begins pounding at the solid floor. “Do we need a hole this bad?”
“Nah, we’ll be fine without a pit. Once the fire is going, a natural groove will form.”
She begins constructing a tripod with the precision I use. “Fingers crossed for a widespread thaw.”
“Not sure that ever happens this far north.”
“Again, why would anyone choose to live here?”
“For the thrill of it?”
“Damn daredevils,” she mutters and shoves a bunch of kindling between the tilted logs.
“Our names will be listed among them, for merely surviving.”
She hikes a slim shoulder. “It’s a rite of passage. We can accomplish anything after enduring this.”
I track her gaze to the whipping rapids crashing against the shore. Squeals of wind warn us to seek cover. Our little bubble is still being protected, but for how much longer?
“We better get this done so I can catch dinner. The weather is only going to get worse.”
I drop down beside her, leaving zero room for personal space. Blakely doesn’t seem to be bothered by my close proximity. If anything, she angles toward me to get a better position. That’s my assumption, at least.
After placing a piece of crispy bark in front of us, I reach for some crunchy brush and leaves. I remind her how to rub a twig against the flammable base. She’s a quick study. Her slender hands move with effortless ease and have smoke rising from the twisting sticks faster than any typical beginner. I bend to where the first flickers spark, giving them a soft exhale for fuel. Blakely joins my methods, and our breath mingles into a hotter accelerant than gasoline.
“We did it.” Her tone vibrates with awe as she watches the flames spread.
“That was all you.”
She pokes her tongue out between her teeth. “I prefer when we’re in the grind together.” Her eyes widen, and she blinks too fast. “I mean, work. That’s more appropriate for this context.”
I dust my lips across her tipped jaw. “I don’t mind being in the grind with you.”
“I would hope not. Otherwise I’m doing something seriously wrong. The competition around here is nonexistent.”
“It wouldn’t matter if there was, sweetheart. Trust me on that, if nothing else.” After laying a loud kiss on her cheek, I stand and begin searching for an adequate spear. “I’ll be right back.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Her gaze is a tad starry and gleaming from the glowing light.
“Just a quick in and out.”
“That’s what she said.” Blakey dips her head to hide a giggle, but her words register regardless.
“Don’t be mistaken, boss. There will never be anything quick about that with us.”
I stride to the river while she’s left sputtering behind me. And yeah, there might be some swagger in my step.
Survival tip #17: Giving voice to panic will drown out sound reason.
Irrational fear is a thief, dashing off with my sensible reasoning the moment Halder is out of sight. He leaves me in the lurch for too long. The need for oxygen singes through my lungs. I didn’t realize my last breath was still trapped inside of me. That burning ache brews until I release a gasping exhale that almost doubles me over. But my entire focus is on the man exiting the chaotic stream mere feet from me. A rush of heightened emotions pummel me, thrashing for the front row.
Halder walks toward me with four fish skewered on his rod. That last word has me glancing at what he’s packing below the waist. I have no doubt he could melt the polar ice caps with that blowtorch. Good grief, I’m spiraling down the gutter again. When did I become such a sexual deviant?
Those ponderings vanish into a poof of smoke when the crotch in question greets me at eye-level. “Are you ready to eat?”
“Uh-huh. I’m practically famished.” He told me I shouldn’t apologize for my lewd stares. A girl might as well take advantage, right? I peek up from underneath my lashes, concentrating on the shadows lining his face.
His Adam’s apple twitches with a heavy gulp. “I hope this will satisfy you.”
“You curbed my appetite earlier. I’m sure this will be no different.”
A low noise resembling a growl rolls out of him. “You’re trouble, Blakely.”
Why is that hint of a scold so damn arousing? Because it’s coming from him.
“Thank you.” And yes, my voice is one thread away from being porno material.
The relief propelling me is strong enough to forget my stirrings of mortification. By this point, humiliating myself in front of this man is common practice.
Halder doesn’t comm
ent further on my bold actions. He prepares our dinner and hovers the spit over a section of lower flames. His focus should be on cooking the fish, but those emerald depths never leave me. He mutters a string of statements under his breath. The words are too jumbled to comprehend, but I swear he mentions needing to split more wood and burn off some energy. I cock my head toward the pile of logs stacked behind the pit before dragging my gaze back to him.
Drops of water dribble off his short beard to race down the column of his throat. The shaggy hair beneath his cap is wet and sticking to his skin in disarray. He’s not drenched by any means, so there’s no threat to his health. Other than catching a fever from being so sexy, of course. Hidden in winter gear and drenched in mud, he looks better than any superhero I’ve previously bothered to idolize with an immature crush. Such a foolish waste of fantasies.
A ferocious gust of wind carries the scent of grilling fish. He risked himself to feed us. The amount of selfless regard flowing through him isn’t naturally ingrained in many. I guarantee holding onto those qualities is even more rare after being wrongfully accused and incarcerated for a crime he didn’t commit.
Before I can hop to my feet and shower him with gratitude, Halder reclaims his spot beside me. I snuggle into his side without hesitation. He curls an arm around my shoulders and passes me a bowl of fish. The steaming food has my mouth watering in less than a second. The man sharing this meal with me isn’t innocent of blame, though.
Is this the point we’re at? My comfort with him should be raising a fistful of red flags, but the opposite holds true. All I feel is an unconditional sense of belonging. This is where I’m meant to be, crazy as that sounds. Nothing about this situation is moral or planned or within the realm of feasible possibilities. But the bricks being laid from this journey belong to us. Those blocks are ours alone. After everything we’ve already experienced together, I can tell he will be an irreplaceable entity in my life.
We eat in silence, allowing the songs of nature to serenade us. Hoots and yips from wild animals compete with the snapping wind. Snow is falling in fluffy flakes that speckle every visible surface. The moisture is no match for our roaring flames, sizzling into nothing but a speck of mist as it falls.
When my dish is spotless, I consider licking the bottom to be sure no morsel has been missed. “Seriously, Halder. You’ve got mad skills. I don’t care what you think.”
“That’s an unfavorable opinion.” He grunts and tries to dump the rest of his fish into my bowl.
I nudge his attempts away. “Knock it off. One, I’m super stuffed. And two, you need more calories for all that energy burning you’re planning to do.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “What?”
“I heard you muttering about chopping wood and taking out your frustration or whatever.”
He’s quiet for a bit, his vibrant gaze staring off into the tree line. “Does it bother you that I’ve spent years in prison?”
His question gives me pause, mostly so I can get myself on the same page. “For the sake of your freedom? Absolutely. I’m freaking livid. But no, I’m not turned off by the meaningless criminal record you carry around. That bogus rap sheet is like a noose. Will it go away once you’re proven innocent?”
Halder groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You make it sound so simple. You know that the wheels of justice are hard to reverse. It’s not their fault, though. This world is poisoned by corruption.”
I’m certain my forehead matches a squashed orange rind. “Um, you lost me.”
“The entire legal structure is pushing against me. Paul, my lawyer, tried to get me a new hearing the entire time I was locked up. The process is painfully slow and stuck in a massive bottleneck.”
A cramp twists in my belly at the defeat caging his voice. I place a hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. “This is just me playing devil’s advocate, okay? But does it really matter, at this point, for the ruling to get overturned?”
His eyes drop to where I’m touching him. “For the sake of my perceived worth, yes. It would be helpful to have my name cleared. There are some questioning my innocence, and felonies stay with you the rest of your life.”
I wonder if he’s referring to his parents. I’m not brave enough to ask right now. “Those who truly know you don’t need further proof.”
Halder stares at me. Can he see that I want to be one of those vital members in his corner? “But I will always be a convicted criminal.”
“Is that what defines you, though? Just because you were found guilty, doesn’t mean you are.”
“You’re too lenient, Blakely.”
A twitch teases the corner of my mouth. “I have been told that my heart is too soft. Why do you think I accept clients who are incarcerated or recently released on parole? Willingly, I might add.”
Halder glares at the sky, his features creasing at the edges. “Because that’s part of your job description? The system offers a stable salary? Job security? It’s not like people are going to stop getting arrested. Decent benefits?”
I cringe at any of those explanations being a deciding factor, even though a few are. “County social work is considered a sacrificial, or charitable, position, because our pay is never enough. The amount of effort required doesn’t match the earnings. Being able to provide support and services to those needing it most covers the cost of what money doesn’t. Turnover is extremely high for our field, though.”
“That doesn’t surprise me, with the shit I’m sure you deal with.”
“Burnout rates are another risk factor. Compassion fatigue and continuous empathy is exhausting. I spend less than half of my hours with Streebston cases, but they need more support. Clinics or schools contract with us more than correctional facilities. There are plenty of people in our communities seeking services.”
He prods at a patch of dying embers before adding two logs onto the fire. “Well, they better not be taking you for granted.”
I bump against him. “Most of those guys couldn’t care less about meeting with me. I’m just a necessary evil to meeting their probation.”
“They’re a bunch of ungrateful morons. And I was almost one of them.”
A huff steams off my lips. “I’d never toss you into the same category. But anyway, I believe everyone deserves another chance to prove themselves. Some even need a third or fourth. But you? Don’t feel less than because of the circumstances hefted onto your shoulders. I don’t think you need to seek forgiveness from anyone. Retribution? Sure. It sounds like some revenge is also in order. That’s below the belt, right? I might need to turn a blind eye.”
Halder swoops in and kisses my temple. “I’m not worthy of you.”
“That’s an unfavorable opinion.” I repeat his earlier conviction with a wink. Before we get into another boomerang without an agreeable outcome, a question pops into my inquisitive mind. “Will you tell me about prison?”
He stiffens against me. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything you’re willing to share. Did you have a bunkmate?”
“I did. A few, actually. They rotated our assignments throughout the years. I had a cell to myself for several months when numbers allowed for it.”
“How was that determined?”
When he shrugs, I’m jostled sideways. Halder tucks me into him before I can straighten myself. “Luck of the draw? Maybe they took good behavior into account. I tried to keep my nose clean and avoid the shady stuff.”
I widen my eyes. “Oooh, so all those rumors about drugs and the black market?”
“One hundred percent factual.”
“Are the guards aware?”
He tips his head back with a dry chuckle. “Fuck, yes. Many of them are the facilitators. They’d set up bargains and transactions without hesitation, especially if the deals benefit them.”
“That’s awful.”
“Welcome to learning about the underbelly of society. Prison isn’t meant to be a walk in the rose gardens.”
“Nah, there are plenty of inmates more than ready to join their dirty forces. They left me alone so long as I kept my mouth shut.”
“Did you make any friends while on the inside?” That question sounds lame, even to my own ears.
Halder makes a noncommittal noise. “Not really. Some guys were decent enough to carry conversations with. But I wouldn’t call them my buddies.”
I frown. “Were you lonely?”
He smiles, but the expression is heavy with sorrow. “That’s nothing new. I’ve spent the majority of my adult life isolated one way or another.”
“Well, that’s really depressing.” I flinch at the final word, sensitive to the overuse of that specific term. But there’s really no better option to describe that type of existence. For me, at least.
“Thinking about you kept me company most nights. Restored my sanity, too. I have you to thank for making those dark years bearable.” His confession is so quiet that I almost give credit to my imagination. Then he reaches for my hand, laces our gloved fingers together, and eliminates all uncertainty.
I part my lips on a breathy exhale. “Oh, wow. You’re an expert at hitting me right in the feels.”
He lifts our joined palms and presses his mouth to the exposed skin at my wrist. “I’ve never been much, but I want to be the best for you.”
I officially swoon at that. Yep, it’s official. This guy is going to make me a stage-five clinger before we get rescued. I let his sweet sentiment sink in, floating in this moment of sugary bliss. Every piece of me is lax and slack.
Before I can formulate an eloquent response, Halder stands with a groan. He dusts the stray ash off his clothes while studying my dazzled appearance. His chuckle only sends me into a deeper tailspin. “We need to make a few slabs for the lean-to. I didn’t cut enough for that.”
I clear the fog from my brain with a couple of rapid blinks. “What about Skipper?”