Chapter 3
The fire was crackling merrily, there was fresh coffee brewing, and she could smell toast. Casey snuggled in under the blankets and smiled. She’d dozed off…where? In the kitchen, she remembered, but that didn’t make any sense, and she certainly wasn’t there now.
She sat bolt upright, spilling blankets off herself.
“Good morning,” Nathaniel said from the kitchen. “It’s a good thing you’re up.”
“Oh?” Casey rubbed at her eyes. “Why?”
“I don’t know how you like your eggs.”
“Scrambled, please. Is the power back on?”
“Not yet. The stove’s gas. I thought we should use up the eggs before they went bad.”
“Right.” Casey stretched, yawning. “Did you go out to get more firewood?”
“Yeah. You really did in that bottom step.” His grin was infectious. “You meant to aim there, right?”
Casey stopped mid-stretch. Last night was flooding back to her now, from the bear, to Nathaniel’s disappearance. Something niggled at her mind and she frowned. They had talked about…bears, wolves. But she was sure she hadn’t told Nathaniel that the bear came into the house.
“How do you know I shot the step?” She asked slowly.
At the stove, Nathaniel froze. Then he said, not looking up, “Well, you have a shotgun there and a step that looks like kindling. Didn’t you say there were bears around?”
“And wolves,” Casey said. She was looking for the same reaction he’d had on the lawn the night before, and she got it; he went still, then had to force himself to keep moving. “Don’t like wolves?”
“Does anyone like wolves?” He asked her. “They’re dangerous, vicious.”
“My dad says not to worry too much,” Casey offered. “I used to get really scared, but he told me wolves don’t seek people out unless they’re starving, or rabid. Our wolves around here are fine, as far as I know.”
“You looked scared last night.”
“Look,” Casey said, stung. She was not a coward. “Last night was terrible. The power went out; I was alone, and that bear came into the house. And not through the glass; he opened the door.”
Nathaniel looked up. He had stopped stirring the eggs entirely, and his eyes were fixed on hers.
“Can I…” Casey looked away.
“Can you…?” His voice was soft as he prompted her.
“I wanted to tell you something. Tell anyone. But it’s stupid.”
“I won’t think it’s stupid,” he promised at once, and to her surprise, he seemed to mean it.
“My sister got chased by a bear once,” Casey explained. “She said bears’ eyes were black, and really cold—like people say about sharks? She said there was no pity or anything. It was going to kill her. Not because it was cruel or anything, but just…that’s what it was. It killed to eat. But when the bear came in last night, it wasn’t like that at all.”
“It wasn’t?” Nathaniel turned off the stove and came to sit on the arm of the couch. His brown eyes were intent.
“No. It looked…” Casey searched for the word. “Pleading. It wanted help. It was injured.” She shook her head. “I know that’s stupid. Bears don’t ask for help; it didn’t know what it was doing. Maybe it smelled food and it was just scared because of the pain. But its eyes seemed warm. It seemed like it really saw me. Shock, I guess.” Last night, in the heat of the moment, she thought she would tell Jenna all about this. Now she was thinking better of it. In the cold, hard light of day, she could see it was nothing more than craziness to think that she had…what, communed with a bear? The words sounded ridiculous coming out of her mouth.
But Nathaniel didn’t seem to think so.
“That’s why you shot the step,” he said slowly. “You didn’t want to hurt it.”
Casey flushed and looked away. She wanted to sink through the floor at the thought of the confrontation. Sure, advancing had been a smart move. But who tried to reason with a bear? I don’t want to hurt you.
“It was already hurt pretty badly.” For some reason, she felt almost guilty. It was those human eyes, wasn’t it? If a human came in hurt, she would never have sent them back into the woods; Nathaniel was proof of that. But the bear, she had driven away. Which made sense, she told herself. She didn’t know how to fix a bear’s wounds, and it would have killed her before it let her try. Still, the guilt would not leave. “I wonder if it survived.”
“It did,” he said confidently. “Bears are tough.”
“I hope so.” Casey’s stomach rumbled. “Man, I could eat a horse.”
“The eggs!” He leapt off the end of the couch and stumbled, wincing.
“I’ll get them!” Casey scrambled over and sat him down. “And then we should look at your leg. I forgot.”
“It’ll be okay.”
“Well, we should change the bandages, anyway.” She surveyed the eggs in the pan and held back a grimace. They were ruined, but she could hardly complain about food he’d cooked. She scraped the best of them onto his plate and took the rest, carrying plates and forks back to the couch.
“These are awful,” he said, after one bite.
“No.” Casey chewed. And chewed. And chewed some more. “I think they’re good.”
“I’m making more.” He snatched the plate out of her hands and limped off.
“Did you carry me to the couch?” Casey asked him, and he smiled up at her briefly from where he was scrubbing the pan.
“You fell asleep on the counter.”
Now that she thought about it, she could remember strong arms lifting her and holding her close. She had snuggled closer, and he had laughed a little bit—not a mean laugh, a pleased one. She remembered him tucking her in…
She blushed, and looked away.
“Thanks.” She rubbed her face and looked around. The bloody towels were still piled by the hearth. “So how did you get hurt?”
“It’s not important.”
“Well, is someone looking for you?”
That took more thought than she expected, to get an answer. “No,” he said finally.
“I mean, did anyone know you were out here? Someone’s going to worry—friends, family? Coworkers?”
“Nope.”
“Really, I have gas in the car, I could take you—”
“No.” He didn’t yell, but his tone stopped her dead. “They know I can take care of myself in the forest.”
“But if you hadn’t found the cabin…” Casey said.
“I might have died, yes.” He looked up, and his eyes were so calm that she shivered.
“That’s why they’d be worried,” she explained slowly. “They’d be worried you were hurt, or dead.”
“Some things are unavoidable,” he said oddly. He held up a hand to forestall further conversation. “I really don’t want to talk about it. Now; two eggs or three?”
“Two is fine.” Casey frowned and looked away. Her head wasn’t hurting, but everything about Eric was flooding back. Was it too early to start drinking again?
Nathaniel let her think while he cooked. What he was thinking, she could not have said. She stole glances at him sometimes, but he seemed entirely absorbed in the task of whisking the eggs. If it bothered him at all that he could have died, there was no sign of that now.
Casey sighed and tipped her head back on the couch. Where was Eric now? Bad idea, her mind told her, but the thought was like pressing on a bruise. It was Saturday morning; he was probably sleeping in beside…what was her name? Anna. He’d thrown it at her a few times, like he was trying to convince himself that he knew she had a name. Anna and I understand each other. What the hell did that even mean?
“If I give you these eggs, are you going to yell at me?” Nathaniel asked. “You look really angry.”
“Just my stupid ex.” Casey took the plate of eggs. “Sorry. And don’t be all sympathetic,” she warned, pointing her fork at him. “I came up here so I wouldn’t have to listen to all that crap.”
“Which crap?” He asked, mouth full of eggs.
“’Oh, he was never good enough for you,’” Casey mimicked. “’I never liked him, you can do so much better.’ See? Crap. I can’t take that yet. Maybe in a week. Of course, I’ll probably be fired by then.”
“So you’re not going to try to get him back?”
“Hell, no.” Her answer surprised her.
He grinned.
“I don’t mean—I don’t know what I mean. I feel like shit that he ran off with some nineteen-year-old, you know? But I don’t want any part of someone who does that. Not at all.”
“Good,” Nathaniel said decisively. “Don’t waste your time with people like that.”
“Sounds like you’ve been through the same sort of thing.”
“Everyone has, I think.” But he sounded aggrieved. “It’s a terrible thing to do, people know that. And it doesn’t work out. But they do it anyway. There’s no loyalty.”
“We weren’t married,” Casey said miserably.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said at once. “You’re with someone; you should be loyal to them. Respect them. If he didn’t want to be with you, he could have said that and broken things off. Instead he tried to pretend it was true love, right? He couldn’t help himself. It was meant to be.” He shook his head. “Coward.”
“Coward,” Casey said thoughtfully. “I did a lot of bastard and slob last night. I like coward. Maybe I’ll add that one in.”
“Don’t even think about him,” Nathaniel advised her. “Why spend any more time?”
“I…” …Have no good answer to that.
“Casey.” He took the plates and set them aside. “You’re funny and smart and kind, and brave as hell.”
“You’re just saying that because I saved your life.”
“Right. You saved my life. You didn’t hide in here with your gun. You didn’t shoot that bear because you were scared. You’re going to tell me that I barely know you, but I think I know more about you from these few hours than most of the people you know. You’re all those things I said, and you know what? You’re drop-dead gorgeous. Your ex made the biggest mistake of his life.”
“You’re sweet.” Casey was blushing. This was the sort of pity she hadn’t wanted, but it didn’t sound like pity, coming from him.
“I’m not…sweet,” he admitted. It came out a little like a growl, making her shiver.
“Then what are you?”
Instead of answering, he stood, pulling her up after him and enfolding her in his arms. Before she could even react, his lips came down on hers.