My dreams had become more frequent and so much more…real. As a result, it was increasingly difficult to be around Jake—to look at him and not see his hard, naked body and the hunger illuminating his copper eyes that I saw so frequently in my sleep. As long as we weren’t too close or touching, I found it easy to be around him. But when I came close enough that I could feel his longing for the woman I’d once been, I was torn. I wasn’t her, I likely never would be again, and I wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with that when he finally accepted it.
Determined to get my day started, I dug through my duffel and pulled out a set of clean clothes. After unfurling my favorite black t-shirt, I shook the wrinkles out of it and pulled it over my head. Amused, I considered how foreign my clothes had felt to me a little over a week ago, and that at some point I’d deemed a knee-high pair of soft, pink socks, the black, well-worn t-shirt, and a pair of snug, faded blue jeans my favorite ensemble. Had that always been the case? Given the fact that I’d been a gallery assistant of sorts like Jake had said, I highly doubted it.
Standing as straight as was possible in the two-person tent that was Becca’s and my current bedroom, I tugged my jeans up, pausing as my eyes lingered on the tattoo on my hip. I’d often wondered why, of all things, I’d decided to get a Celtic knot inked on my skin—the same Celtic knot I’d apparently painted on pretty much all of my worldly possessions. What does it mean? I’d seen its twin on the inside of Dani’s left wrist when Harper had been examining her broken arm. I’d wanted to ask her about it on numerous occasions. I knew, deep down, that it was important to us, that it symbolized something that I would probably never fully comprehend, but I wanted to at least try.
Unzipping the side pocket of my bag, I pulled out my brush, running it through my hair before tossing it back down. Jake’s voice rumbled in the still air outside my tent, and I froze, listening and waiting. I wasn’t sure I had gathered my wits enough to see him just yet. Straining to listen, I heard his heavy, unhurried footsteps dawdle by what I assumed was the fire pit. He chuckled softly at something one of the other campers whispered, and I heard a folding chair creak beneath his powerful body. The image of his strong, possessive arms wrapped around me flashed in my mind, and I groaned.
Searching the side pocket of my bag for my toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, another smoldering image of his fingers gripping my hair flashed in my mind. Despite my efforts to explore the comet trail of desire and curiosities left behind by my frequent dreamy sexcapades, it was proving difficult to find my backbone when it came to initiating anything between Jake and me. The pressure to be her, and the fear that I would grossly disappoint him, trumped all of my own intentions and desires.
Finally, I found my toothbrush and toothpaste and grabbed my bomber jacket before steadying myself to leave my safety zone. Unzipping the tent, I stepped out into the chilly morning and let the cool, high-desert air assault my hyperaware senses.
So as not to be rude, I glanced over at Jason and Jake, who were sipping their morning coffee by the fire. “Good morning.”
Jake’s back was to me, but Jason’s wasn’t. My brother looked exhausted, but who wouldn’t be after having second watch—scouting the camp perimeter while the rest of us slept soundly in our tents. Jason nodded at me and Jake craned his neck as I passed by.
“Morning,” they said in unison.
Under the heat of Jake’s stare, I couldn’t help but blush. Can he tell I just woke up from a scandalous dream about him? The way my face reddened and I fumbled around whenever he was nearby, I assumed it was nearly impossible for him not to notice how much his presence affected me.
I walked over to the water station Sarah and I had set up on the back of the temporarily nonoperational and very rickety covered wagon. Taking a couple days of respite while Jake and Jason worked on repairing it was a welcome break from long days of boring riding; it allowed everyone—horses and riders alike—time to rest and gave me the opportunity to appreciate the expansive high desert landscape that surrounded us.
I dipped a small, plastic cup into a galvanized tub of water, filling it as much as I could before heading over to the washing station a few yards away. I stopped at the folding table set up near a small cliff that overlooked a canyon, stuck my toothbrush inside the water cup to wet the bristles, and squeezed on a healthy dose of much-needed minty paste.
Appreciating the small luxuries, I brushed my teeth, grateful to carry out such a mundane task with such a spectacularly eerie view. With the sun illuminating the dense fog that settled between the towering sandstone mesas scattered below our camp, it was like the fog acted as a barrier between two worlds—two realities.
I felt like I was caught between two realities—the one I’d awoken in after the incident at the golf course, and the one I should’ve been in.
“Did you sleep well?”
I jumped mid-brush and pivoted around to find Jake wandering up behind me. His coffee mug was dwarfed in his large hand as he took a sip. His eyes met mine briefly before shifting to my mouth and back. Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze as he tried not to laugh. “You have some toothpaste…right here,” he said and pointed to the corner of his mouth.
Mortified, I hurriedly wiped away the white, pasty foam with my sleeve.
“Did you sleep well?” He stepped past me, his gaze fixed on the canyon surrounding us.
When he looked back at me, expecting an answer, I nodded. With a final quick brush, I spit over the edge of the cliff. “You?”
Amused, Jake watched me as I swished around a final mouthful of water. “Jason and I had second watch last night,” he said.
I spit again. “Oh, right. How was it?”
He shrugged and took a step toward me, a crooked smile parting his lips. “I found something I want to show you,” he said, bringing his hand up to my cheek. Unbidden, images from my dream flashed through my mind, and once again I felt a thrilling sense of panic. With the pad of his thumb, he wiped away what I assumed were the final remnants of my morning routine.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare.
His smile broadened. “What are you doing today?”
I grabbed the jacket I’d hung over some sagebrush and shrugged it on before gathering my things. “Umm, after breakfast, I was going to practice some more with Sam and Tavis. I think I’m finally starting to get a teensy bit better with the whole archery thing.”
“Good,” he said.
“I’m free after that, unless you want to help me with my self-defense again.” I gave him a playful flutter of my eyelashes. “Because last time worked out so well…”
Jake grinned and rubbed the side of his face like he could still feel where I’d smacked him. “Jason and I need to put the front wheel back on the wagon, but we can practice after.”
“Perfect,” I said, and we started walking back toward camp. “So you guys figured it out then? Whatever was wrong with the wheel, I mean.”
Jake stopped just outside camp, dumping the final remnants of coffee from his mug out on the dirt. “I think so. We tweaked a few things, so hopefully it’ll help.”
“Well, that’s good news,” I said, smiling at Sarah as she waddled past us. “I’m gonna help Sarah with breakfast. Come find me later?”
Jake studied me, his expression bordering on amused. “You got it,” he said, and I felt a surge of hope as he walked back toward the fire pit.
Dropping my things off at my tent, I headed over to Sarah, who was bustling around by the food tubs as she gathered her morning ingredients. “What can I do?” I asked, ready to be put to work.
She glanced over at me. “Hey, Zoe.” She flashed a bubbly smile, an expression I’d come to rely on each morning. “Can you wash and chop the potatoes for me? Pretty please, with extra chocolate syrup?”
A laugh burst from my mouth, and I felt the tension Jake had inspired in my body instantly ease. “Cheap shot, Sarah,” I said, shaking my head with feigned regre
t. “I never should’ve told you about my chocolate addiction.”
She batted her eyelashes at me for show and offered me another silly smile. “The potatoes…?”
“Of course I’ll chop potatoes,” I said, sidestepping around her to the oversized basket of what was left of the potatoes we’d brought with us from Colorado Trails. “I’m assuming we’re gonna need all of them, right?”
“Yes, please.”
I heaved the basket up, pausing to figure out the best place to clean them.
“Go ahead and just use the water in the tub, Zoe. It’ll be easier that way. I’ll ask Biggs to get us fresh water later, after we do the dishes.”
“After I do the dishes. You don’t need to be lugging around cast-iron skillets and bending over so much.” I shook my head. “In case you forgot, you’re pregnant,” I added dryly.
“Am I? Geez, that would explain a lot.”
I shrugged, “Just thought I’d remind you.” I offered her a playful smile. Happy I didn’t have to lug at least fifteen pounds of potatoes somewhere else to scrub and chop, I placed the basket on the ground beneath the ledge of the chuck wagon, where the water tub sat. Reaching for the large Ziplock bag of sponges, SOS pads, and miscellaneous brushes tucked inside one of the wagon’s little cubbies, I picked through the contents before choosing a palm-size bristle brush and began scrubbing.
“So, what’s on Sarah’s Roadside Menu this morning?” I asked. “The boys came back empty-handed last night…that doesn’t mean we’re having, like, roadkill or something, does it?”
“I would’ve considered it if we’d seen any that was fresh, but nope, we’re going with spam in our breakfast burritos this morning.” Sarah sighed. “Honestly, Zoe, I’m beginning to run out of ideas. There are so many of us now, I think I’ve exhausted all of my sort-of-quick-but-good ideas, at least if I want to feed everyone before it’s time to start preparing lunch.”
“We’re traveling, Sarah. No one expects a five-course meal. We’re lucky we have you cooking for us at all, and besides, I’ve never heard anyone complain.” I put a scrubbed potato on the cutting board Sarah had delivered to me before reaching for another potato.
“Thanks. I guess it’s just that cooking is really the only thing I can contribute at this point. I just don’t want to disappoint.”
From my periphery, I watched her pour oil into three cast-iron skillets and carry them one by one to the campfire, placing them beside one another on the metal grate Biggs had set up for her.
As she waddled back, wiping her hands off on her apron, she glanced around. “Where’s Becca this morning, anyway? Is she getting tired of me already?”
I laughed. “No, I don’t think so. She’s probably with Mase and Camille. She was gone this morning when I woke up, so don’t take it personal.”
“I’ll try not to.” She bustled around behind me for a while, leaving me to my thoughts as I scrubbed one potato after another.
“How are things going with Jake?” Sarah asked after a few minutes.
I felt my body tense. “They’re good,” I said as nonchalantly as possible.
Lazy footsteps, followed by a sigh and Sarah’s shadow approaching, brought my scrubbing to a stop. I looked over to find her staring directly at me, head tilted to the side and hands on her hips. “Tell me,” she demanded. “What’s wrong?”
Giving in, I sighed. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Something’s…something. You’re lost in thought, which is more of an old Zoe thing than a new Zoe thing.”
My head snapped toward her. “Is it?” I couldn’t help feeling a burst of hope.
With a curt nod, she crossed her arms, resting them on her belly. “Now spill.” The curious gleam in her pale, brown eyes betrayed her hard-set features.
Rinsing off the newly scrubbed potato in my hand, I set it aside and turned to face her. “It’s the dreams.” I wiped my wet hands off on a towel haphazardly draped over the edge of the chuck boxes. “You know…about Jake?”
Sarah grinned. “I remember. Does that mean you finally did something about it?” Her eyebrows danced suggestively.
“No,” I said, exasperated.
Sarah’s excitement vanished, replaced with sympathy. “I’m just teasing you, Zoe.”
“What’s wrong with me, Sarah?” I leaned against the fold-out work table, rubbing my temples as if it might help the answer form.
She sighed heavily. “You haven’t even talked to him about your dreams?”
“God no!” I blanched. “What the hell would I say?”
“Okay, well”—she threw her hands up—“this situation is clearly bothering you,” she said flatly, shielding her eyes as she squinted into the sun burning through the morning fog. “If you won’t talk to him about it, what are you going to do?”
I threw my own hands up, feeling foolish and naïve. “Haven’t you ever been so scared that you’ll fail at something, that you’ll be rejected? I know it sounds silly, but—”
“It doesn’t sound silly.” Sarah stepped closer to the wagon, into the shade, and the tension around her eyes lessened.
“What if taking that next step makes me feel closer to him, but pushes him further away from me? I’m not the same, Sarah. The next step could easily ruin what we’re slowly putting back together—”
“Or make it better.” She watched me for a long moment, clearly considering my situation. “You know what I think?”
I stared at her blankly.
“I think you just need to take the chance—not with sex or kissing or anything you don’t feel comfortable with, but you need to be more open with him. Let’s be honest, it’s Jake, which means he’s not going to push things between you guys…he’s waiting for you.” Sarah placed both of her hands on my shoulders. “If you want things to change, you need to make the first move—and soon, by the sound of it, or these dreams are going to drive you crazy.” Sarah gave my shoulders a squeeze. “You’re torturing yourself, Zoe. I know it’s scary, but you need to do something. You’re letting your fear get in the way of your relationship with him.”
I groaned, nerves making me feel nauseous. “I know.” As much as I knew she was trying to help, it was easy for her to encourage me; she’d been with Biggs for months—they were having a baby together even. They’d come to know each other organically, whereas I woke up in a relationship I couldn’t remember ever having been in.
“For what it’s worth…I don’t think you’ll regret trying to be with Jake. I just hope you don’t hurt him in the process. He’s a good guy, Zoe.” Sarah turned away, smiling to herself as she ambled to the food trunk.
Multiple images of her and Biggs flashed through my mind. Although I’d gotten a bit better at distracting myself so I wasn’t solely focused on everyone’s memories and emotions all the time, some were more difficult to ignore than others. And sometimes curiosity got the best of me, and I couldn’t help but pay too much attention. What’s it like…really being with someone?
Refocusing on Sarah, I realized that she was watching me intently and that I’d been thinking out loud…again. I cleared my throat, feeling like I’d been caught lurking in the dark corners of her mind. Because, in a way, I had.
“What’s what like?” Her eyes narrowed and then widened. “Are you in my head, Zoe?”
Biting the inside of my cheek, my hands found their way to my temples again, and I attempted to rub the swirling questions I had away. “Yes…sorry.”
She only tossed her head back and let out a boisterous laugh. “‘What’s it like?’ It’s amazing, Zoe.”
I smiled timidly, relieved she wasn’t offended by my prodding.
“Which is why I think you shouldn’t run away from whatever you and Jake might still have just because you’re feeling lost. I think you should try to figure things out. Biggs makes me feel beautiful and special, even when I’m as big as a whale. He makes me feel alive.” She smiled, more for herself than for me. “I don’t know how I would’ve gotten this far
without him. Granted, I wouldn’t be like I am now, near bursting and hormonal as all hell, without him…”
Sarah’s thoughts drifted and she glanced over to the tents, where Biggs and Sanchez were standing with Jason. “Being with someone you love makes you feel important,” she said wistfully. “It makes you feel like everything will be okay because you have someone to face your problems with. Jake used to be that for you, at least I think he was. But you won’t know if he still is until you try.”
In spite of my uncertainty, I longed to have with someone what Sarah had with Biggs. Jake was amazing, I knew it innately, even if I wasn’t sure how or why I knew it. Determined to find out if he really was someone I could love, I decided that today had to be that day—the day we would take things a step further, regardless of how small and seemingly insignificant that step might be. I needed it. We needed it.
~~~~~
“You’re getting faster,” Jake said, helping me to my feet after our final round of blocking and kicking. I excelled at the blocking, although any sort of offensive strikes had proved to be more difficult.
“Yeah?” I said, genuinely curious. Cooper trotted over to us, and I rubbed his head while he paused from his exploring.
Jake nodded. “But speed was never a problem for you.”
I frowned. “What was my problem?”
Jake only chuckled as he took in my expression. “Let’s just say you weren’t very strong.”
“Weren’t? You mean not…?”
“Weren’t,” he clarified and gestured to my exposed biceps. They were nothing to write home about. “You’re stronger now. All you need is to remember—” He stopped himself. “You just need to learn how to use that strength again.”
Again. The fact that he’d probably spent countless hours teaching me, doing the same training exercises we’d been doing together the past couple days, was aggravating.
Luckily, Chris and Harper strode by, deep in conversation, giving me something else to think about. Them. I smiled. They weren’t overtly affectionate, but they spent a lot of their time together, and I’d seen Harper come out of Chris’s tent on more than one occasion.
Out Of The Ashes (The Ending Series, #3) Page 11