by Ev Bishop
“Well?” she said. “What do you think?”
“Sorry.” He scuffed the loose gravel by the fire pit with his hiking boot. “I zoned out there. Do you mind repeating yourself?”
Her laugh tinkled like wind through a particularly pretty chime. “You really are out of it today. I said I think it’s time. That maybe I’m ready.”
Gray’s whole body tensed. It was good news, of course, but what about him? Was he ready? “Okay, then. We’ll take it really slow. If it starts to feel like too much or you start to panic, just say the word, all right?”
Chapter 13
When Gray grabbed her wrist, Mia shuddered and all her limbs seemed to disjoint, making resistance impossible. She forced herself to breathe through it.
“You okay?”
She nodded. He released her and they stood without touching for a minute or two, then he clamped his hand around her other wrist. After a few repeats of this catch and release game, he grabbed both wrists. She froze and her insides sloshed in a hot queasy mess. No question, this was much worse.
“Okay?” he repeated.
She bit her lip, then bobbed her head. Another second passed and she was free again.
“I know it’s stupid,” she said, sides heaving like she’d been doing a grueling workout, not merely standing in one place for twenty minutes as Gray took hold of her hand or wrist, then let go, and repeat, repeat, repeat. “I totally know you’re safe, but—”
“It’s not stupid. A stress reaction isn’t something a person can consciously control, without work. The body has its own memory, separate from the brain’s.”
That was definitely true. But what confused Mia was how these completely innocuous bits of contact made her feel like she’d regressed. She’d become totally fine during their non-touching workouts—even cocky. Now, even while chanting over and over in her head that the hand on hers was Gray’s and that he was helping her, she felt trapped, like Ryland was right there again and she’d never—
“Hey.” Gray’s voice was gentle but firm. “Come back to me, Mia. Everything’s fine. You’re at your cabin. You’re safe. Take a breath. That’s right. There you go.”
Mia inhaled, held the breath, then slowly expelled it, trying to squash down an upwelling of humiliation. “I know the stuff I need help with isn’t even really self-defense.”
Gray shrugged. “It is what it is.”
At his cabin, after he agreed to work with her, she had been beyond relieved he didn’t back out upon hearing exactly what she had in mind. For three whole sessions, all they’d done was practice her running away—with only words as a prompt, not even feigned contact. Then they’d moved to him lunging at her or pretending to try to grab her—but still without contact. She was planning to do the real, normal stuff you’d learn in regular self-defense classes, but first . . .
She inhaled and exhaled again, loudly. Gray hadn’t acted like it was weird of her at all, but it was so embarrassing. She literally needed her hand held. She couldn’t bear to face any moves that would demand close physical contact until she could manage to have someone hold her wrist or arm without having a meltdown.
“Stop it,” Gray said, as if hearing her thoughts. “You’re doing great.”
“Oh, yeah, great,” she replied bitterly. “I don’t understand my glitch. If I can’t stand to be touched without losing it, shouldn’t that help me be able to get away, motivate me?”
“I can see why you think that, but what you’re really working on is not getting yanked back into the night of the attack and being paralyzed by memories every time someone randomly touches you.”
“I guess.”
“Also, you don’t ever need to apologize to me or try to defend or explain yourself. What you want to work on is specific and unique to you. Call it whatever you want, whatever feels most beneficial to you.”
Mia liked that, the idea of labeling things in a way that felt beneficial to her. She appreciated the experts who helped her learn to cope by providing identifying terminology and explanations for things she experienced. Knowing her reactions and issues were direct, common responses to trauma or whatever, and being able to call them something specific was often useful, even comforting. Other times, however, she felt any type of professional jargon or “official” terms were euphemistic attempts to reduce messy, complex, destroyed parts of her into manageable, socially acceptable things. She wanted to reject every description she was supposed to select on mental health assessments and burn every tied up with a bow diagnosis. She appreciated how Gray didn’t seem to think she was foolish for wanting to come up with the next phase of her own cure. Her own way.
A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. She yanked free without giving it a thought. Then stared at Gray in surprise.
His brown eyes twinkled and his mouth, more visible these days since he’d started trimming his wild beard, quirked. “See? And that’s after a mere half hour.”
She nodded.
“So what do you think? Do you want me to rest my arm around your shoulder or put you in a light headlock?”
The idea made her stomach hurt. “How do I cue you if it’s too much?”
“Just say so. I’ll use a very, very light touch.”
Gray stepped behind her just as Wolf bounded into view from around the side of the cabin. Mia was used to the dog’s disappearing and reappearing acts now and tried to joke. “See? Wolf heard you and decided he’d better make sure you don’t try anything funny.”
“I will never try anything I don’t run by you first. I promise.” Gray’s voice was soft and serious, and when something that felt like screws seemed to untighten in Mia’s stomach, she realized that maybe a small part of her hadn’t been joking, had needed further reassurance.
She could sense Gray’s physical presence behind her now, and he was so much larger, so much bulkier than she was. He was doing this to help her, sure, but if he wanted to overpower her, what—
“So, I’m going to put my arm lightly around your neck and count to three. Then I’ll release you. It might feel scary, but remember, you’re in control of whether I do this or don’t, and sometime soon you’ll be able to free yourself from someone you’re not in control of.”
It really was like he could read her mind—so maybe she shouldn’t worry about this part of the lesson, she should worry about some of the other thoughts she had when he was near. A smile touched her face for the first time since starting the day’s practice. “Okay. Go.”
Gray must’ve speed counted because it was over before she even felt nervous. They practiced again and again and again, going for longer and longer periods of time, with him tightening his hold sometimes. Then they did the arm around the shoulder. It was a piece of cake compared to the choke hold. Despite the deodorant Mia was wearing, she could smell her own sweat when they were done.
“I’m sorry,” she said when Gray undraped his arm for a final time and stepped away.
“About what?”
“I stink.”
He laughed, but his eyes were serious. “Yeah, you do,” he admitted in a low purr, “but I like it.” He looked shocked by his own words and the tip of his nose and his ears reddened. Mia was sure any heat he was feeling was no match for the fiery warmth pooling through her limbs and belly, however. What a thing to say . . . and so strangely erotic.
Their eyes locked, but unlike other times where one or both of them immediately glanced away, they held each other’s gaze, firmly, almost questioningly.
Mia broke first. “Um . . . ” She took a step back and grabbed her phone from the arm of one of the Adirondacks. “Whoa, look at time. It’s 3:30 already.”
“Really?” Gray sounded surprised too. They’d been planning to keep sessions to under two hours. “I should split. It’s a long way back.” He stood up and shrugged into his backpack.
Mia watched him adjust the straps and fasten an extra support belt around his waist. “What do you keep in that thing anyway? And why do you wear it ev
erywhere?”
“You mean in my backpack?”
“Yeah.”
“Just the basics in case I run into trouble on the trail.” He shot her an almost angry look—a familiar expression that always made her laugh now that she was used to him. He was definitely gearing up to give her a safety lecture.
“And if you’re still bent on traipsing around out here by yourself, you should make sure you’re carrying survival essentials too.”
He misread her smile—which was pure happiness that she’d successfully stalled him for a bit. “It’s no laughing matter. Do you know how many accidents and events end in tragedy, when they should’ve gone down as fun adventure stories to recall over a beer, except that people are idiots?”
“No clue, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”
Gray grinned grudgingly. “Well, at least you know that much.”
It was another thing she liked about him. He seemed aware of how owly and grumpy he could be, and while that awareness didn’t stop him from compulsively launching into a lecture whenever something pressed his worry button, it did make his rants sort of sweet and endearing.
“Survival essentials?” she prodded.
“Yeah, ten things you should carry if you’re going into the bush, no matter how short a hike you think it will be or how familiar you are with the terrain.”
“And they are?”
“A light daypack is critical—I have a big sucker for extended trips—and you should leave it stocked so you can just pick up and go.” He sat down on the wide arm of the Adirondack chair closest to her.
Though it was true Mia initially asked about the backpack only to keep Gray’s company a while longer, now she found she was genuinely interested. She was going for longer and longer walks every day, and she had wondered what she’d do if she twisted an ankle, took a wrong turn, or even just got caught in unexpected weather.
“There’s a ton of gadgets folks will try to sell you, but if you carry these ten, you’ll be pretty set for most things,” Gray said, warming to his topic. “Number one priorities: a knife—I prefer a fixed blade, but even a utility tool with a folding blade is better than nothing. Waterproof matches and/or a lighter. Water—or a container and something to purify water. Out here there’s always a water source, but some places aren’t like that and you’d need to pack bottles. Rope—I recommend parachute cord. A toque. I don’t care how warm a day seems, temperatures always dip at night.”
Mia nodded seriously, taking mental notes, trying to record everything he was saying.
“Signaling equipment. Obviously, a fire is a good one and I already mentioned matches—but a whistle, a mirror, a flashlight—I consider those all pretty critical. A compass and/or paper maps. A First Aid Kit, pretty self-explanatory. Shelter building equipment—which can be as simple as a tarp or large garbage bag. I also carry a light waterproof reflective blanket.” Gray took a breath and studied her face, as if trying to deduce whether she was listening properly.
“That’s nine main items, including the backpack—what’s the tenth?”
Gray nodded approvingly, if a bit hesitantly, like he thought she might be teasing him. Either way, he was unable to resist completing his talk. “Finally, a change of clothes, in case you get wet or the temperature falls, so you can add layers.”
Something Mia had heard somewhere popped into her head. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Gray’s brow creased. “Well, I carry a bunch of other stuff too, personal preferences, like a book and a notepad and pen, but no, that’s a solid set of basics.”
“What about a buddy? I thought experts always recommend not to hike without a partner.”
For a second, Mia worried she’d gone too far. She’d only been teasing, but considering Gray’s past, maybe her comment was insensitive. Then relief flooded her as he flashed a rueful smile and cocked an eyebrow. “In a perfect world, that’d be nice all right—but perfect’s already eluded you and me. We’re more like survivalists.”
Mia was ridiculously flattered to be included in Gray’s small club.
“Okay, till Tuesday then.” Gray got to his feet again and whistled for Wolf.
Mia watched his departing . . . backpack. Five nights, four whole days until their next session. It seemed so long. “Hey Gray, wait.”
He stopped obediently and she jogged over to him.
“I just wanted to say . . . thanks for everything. I really appreciate you making time and coming all this way to help me.”
He smiled, then shrugged. “No biggie. I’m glad you’re finding the lessons helpful.”
She nodded, wanting to say more, but had no idea what that more was.
There was another pause, then as Gray made to step forward again, Mia stopped him once more, raising her hand, palm out.
He looked at her quizzically and maybe with a smidge of amusement.
“Spontaneous high five-slash-touch?” she asked.
His expression was definitely amused now. Definitely.
“Oh, yeah, very spontaneous.” He raised his hand obligingly and their palms connected with a gentle smack—then stayed resting against each other.
Mia was shocked by the ripple effect of that simplest of touches. Was appalled by the fireball of need that ignited in her belly at the sensation of his callused palm pressed against hers. Yet it wasn’t the thrill of sexual tension that threatened to undo her. Gray knew her, perhaps better than anyone now, especially regarding the darker details of some of her damage and fear, but his eyes weren’t wary or filled with burdening concern. They were fond.
Gray’s hand slid lightly up and down hers. This was a completely different thing from their workout touches—a whole new animal. How long had it been since Gray had touched or been touched by another human out of affection? As long for him as it had been for her? She felt like she was glowing with transparent excitement, even while she shuddered at the idea of wanting, of desiring, anything that could ever possibly hurt her again.
How could something as tame as two hands meeting in friendly camaraderie be so charged? It stoked a need in Mia that ran far deeper than physical desire, and mutual longing kindled in Gray’s warm eyes.
He searched her face so unguardedly it was like he was touching her, slipping through layers, reading her, knowing her, accepting her just as she was. Bashful discomfort—and undeniable pleasure—tingled across her flesh. And then Gray’s free hand stretched toward her. Soft as a butterfly’s wing, he stroked her cheek.
Mia’s breath caught. Gray winced. Then he smiled slowly, and her lungs filled with air again.
“Okay,” she said, echoing his earlier words a little shakily—and a lot confused. “Till Tuesday it is.”
“Yeah,” Gray replied, sounding equally unsteady. “If anything comes up, leave a note in the tree.”
Chapter 14
Gray reached into the heart of the Secret Keeper, touched the unmistakable texture of an envelope and felt his blood surge. Was it another note from Mia? He couldn’t help but hope wildly—and it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. Despite their spending time together three times a week, or perhaps because of it, they occasionally wrote each other small letters. Silly things, really. She had a penchant for lame jokes and riddles, where she’d write out the question, then put the answer really small and upside down so he had to flip the note to read it. The first joke she’d sent hadn’t included anything else, just the joke—something that made him chuckle much more than her offered groaner:
What did the Tin Man say when he got ran over by a steamroller?
“Curses! Foil again.”
His reply had been a bundle of dried lavender and mint (wrapped in tin foil because yes, he was that hilarious and witty these days) along with instructions to take a hot soak and a promise that the combo would relax stiff muscles and ease anxiety.
They continued on from there, sharing random thoughts and quirky details from their solitary days.
His favorite note
from her to date read:
Did you see the moon last night? I still can’t believe how big and low it was, like if I walked just a few steps I’d be able to reach out and rest my hands on it. It made me feel both infinitely small and strangely powerful and resilient.
It was weird to think you might be watching it too, maybe even wrapped in a blanket, sitting in a chair beneath the inky sky, like I was—and it seemed odder still that strangers all over the place could see it too—because it felt intimate. Like magic or God is real and was reaching out to me personally.
(Yes, surprise! Another note from your insane friend!)
He had written back:
I know what you mean. Living out here, so close to nature in its most pure state, unsullied by other humans, has made me conscious of how insignificant I am in the larger scheme of things—but also how tied into it I am—how tied into it we all are. And not just when the moon’s out.
My life, while everything to me, is a pebble on the river’s floor, tumbling in the current. My pain, while huge to me, is one rain drop in the millions falling on the lake, barely making a ripple. And my joy is a star in the night sky, brilliant and beautiful and seemingly transcendent—but even while I’m experiencing it, long past and burnt out. Some people would find that depressing. I take comfort in it. The earth beneath me, the trees around me, the mountains above me have been here since time immemorial—and will still be here when I’m no longer even a memory. I am the tiniest part of something bigger than myself, something that will continue on with or without me, immune to my actions or demise.
Gray thought of signing the note with something like “Equally Insane,” but in the end left off with three lines from an Emily Dickinson poem instead:
I’m Nobody! Who are you?