More than Survival: A Post-apocalyptic Love Story (4 page)

Finally, he finished. He stood and tossed me a blanket, and I clutched it to my chest, trying to ease the pounding of my heart as I watched him move about the room. Cleaning the blood from his hands, putting away the supplies he’d gotten out. Then he took off his boots and jacket, and lowered himself into the chair in front of me like he owned the place.

o…” The man held my gaze like he was waiting for me to respond. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say.

“Who are you?” I asked, starting with the most pressing question.

“Sawyer.” He ran his hand through his hair, but it was so greasy it barely moved. He let out a deep breath that sounded exhausted. “My name is Sawyer. I got caught in this storm and was doing my best to get back home when I heard you scream. Wasn’t sure if I’d find you in all that snow, but there you were.” He paused and looked around the room, and something about the way he held himself seemed tense. Stressed even. “Are you all alone here?”

“Yes.” I swallowed, hating how weak that answer had sounded and willing the next words to come out firmer. “My uncle is out. I expect him home any time.”

Sawyer nodded and his shoulders relaxed a bit. “Good. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be alone these days. Especially a woman like you.”

His eyes moved to the blanket I had clutched against my chest. Even though I was covered, his gaze made me feel more naked than ever. I squirmed when the heat between my thighs increased.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

“Lucy.” I didn’t really want to tell him anything, but my name popped out before I could stop it. Again, my cheeks flushed, and I looked away from the man in front of me. His blue eyes made my body tremble.

Sawyer said nothing, and I kept quiet as well, taking a moment to make a mental checklist of the weapons hidden in the room. There were ten of them in all, two within arm’s reach. Sawyer was so close and so big that I knew when he did decide to attack I’d be defenseless unless I was armed. He wouldn’t wait long. Not with as vulnerable as I was.

Sawyer leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles, acting like he wasn’t in any hurry to attack me. But it was pretty obvious he wasn’t planning to leave either, which meant I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. Me trembling, Sawyer alternating between studying the house and looking me over. Every time his blue eyes swept over my body, a quiver worked its way through me. I wanted to get up and get dressed, but I was afraid to put my back to him, certain he’d attack as soon as I wasn’t looking.

“You have any food, Lucy?”

I jumped at the sound of his voice, lost in my thoughts about Sawyer and what he had planned for me and how I might possibly be able to defend myself. When I looked up to meet his eyes, they narrowed on my face. I felt like he could read my mind, and for some reason that made me flush with embarrassment.

“Stew,” I said, not being able to think of a reason to lie. He’d find it anyway if he decided to look for it. “There’s some stew in the kitchen.”

Sawyer nodded once, then slapped his hands against his knees and stood. “Good. I’ll get some for both of us.”

He headed for the kitchen and I scrambled to my room—well, tried to anyway. With the throbbing in my shoulder and the shaking in my legs, it wasn’t exactly a scramble. Once there, I grabbed a long sleeve shirt and pulled it on, tucking it into my pants, then pulled a sweater over it. It was the biggest, baggiest one I had, and it allowed me to tuck a knife into my pocket. Let him try to attack me now and he’d get a big surprise.

I went back out into the living room to find Sawyer humming in the kitchen. The cheerful sound caught me off guard, and I sat down without thinking. He didn’t seem like he was dangerous, but I couldn’t let him fool me. I had to be diligent.

When the stew was ready he brought two bowls back out into the living room, and we settled in front of the low fire. It wasn’t enough to keep me warm, but it took the edge off. The stew would help, too.

We ate in silence, watching each other. I was eyeing him, trying to get a good read on him so I could figure out what his plan was. Why he was watching me so closely, I didn’t have a clue.

“This is a nice set-up you have here,” Sawyer said after a bit, the awe in his voice obvious. “It’s probably the most impressive place I’ve seen.”

“My uncle was a prepper, so he was ready when all this went down. My parents died and he took me in, raised me like his own. It’s been just the two of us for the last eleven years.”

As soon as the words were out, I slammed my mouth shut. Why the hell had I told this stranger all that stuff? He didn’t need to know all the personal details of my life. I had the urge to slap myself on the forehead.

Sawyer just nodded. “Nice. You got lucky. I had to steal most of the stuff I have, which isn’t always easy and rarely comes without violence. Should be used to it by now,” he shakes his head, “I’m not, though.”

I took a big bite of stew, but had a hard time swallowing it. Just hearing him mention violence made my stomach clench. He was dangerous, I had to keep that in mind. Despite his humming and the gentle way he had taken care of me, he would try to do me harm if given the chance. It was possible he was just biding his time, trying to get information out of me before doing his worst.

“So, it’s just been you and your uncle out here this whole time?” he asked, barely looking up from his stew. He was eating it so fast I half expected him to lick the bowl clean when he was done. “Eleven years in the middle of nowhere. Seems lonely.”

“It has been. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to other than my uncle since this whole thing started.”

Again with the information! I felt like I wasn’t in control of my brain or the words coming out of my mouth, and I had no idea why or what to do about it. You’d think after all these years of not talking to another person I’d be shy, but no. Instead, I just threw out every thought that entered my mind without any consideration as to what the consequences might be!

Sawyer paused mid-chew and his eyebrows pulled together. He acted like he was trying to work out some kind of problem. “You’ve never been to town?” I shook my head. “Never been around any men other than your uncle?” I shook my head again, this time slower, and Sawyer looked me up and down. “You’re what, seventeen?”

“Eighteen,” I whispered.

He let out a low whistle. “Damn. So you were seven when this started and your uncle’s been hiding you away since then.” He looked me up and down for the second time, then frowned. “No wonder.”

My heart was pounding like crazy. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Sawyer took another bite and chewed it slowly, not looking at me. After a few minutes of silence he said, “I’ll probably stick around until your uncle gets back. With this storm he could be gone longer than usual, and I’d hate for anyone to find you alone.”

My heart almost stopped completely. I wanted to protest, but I couldn’t because I’d have to admit that my uncle wasn’t coming back.

I sank lower in my chair, cringing when my shoulder throbbed. Thinking about how vulnerable I was made me shake with fear. I was hurt and alone, and even though I was capable when it came to survival, I was still naïve about a lot of things. There was no doubt in my mind that the man in front of me saw me as an easy target, and I hated how right he was.

If only Seamus hadn’t disappeared.             

When we were done eating, Sawyer worked at getting the wood laid out by the fire so it could dry while I cleaned the dishes. It was hard work with my injury, but it kept me busy so I didn’t have to think about the fear inside me or the way my stomach fluttered whenever I met this strange man’s gaze. I had to use the hand pump in the kitchen to fill the washbasin, which sent a throbbing pain up and down my shoulder. Then I scraped the breakfast crumbs into our compost bucket and dropped the dishes into the water. The water was colder than a blizzard, which made me shiver all over again.

“I’m putting the last dry log on right now, Lucy,” Sawyer called from the other room, causing me to drop the bowl I’d been scrubbing.

The bowl hit the side of the metal washbasin with a loud bang that sent Sawyer hurrying into the room. My hands were already shaking, and when I turned to see him holding a knife I almost fainted. My hand went to my throat and I stepped back, but the counter was behind me so there was nowhere to go. My eyes moved to the door and I briefly considered fleeing, but with the snow and my injury it would have been a stupid move and I knew it. I was trapped.

“Shit.” Sawyer put his knife away and took a deep breath. “You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”

I nodded even though I knew no such thing, and the expression on Sawyer’s face told me he could see right through me. Which I hated.

He took a step closer, holding his hands out in front of him like he was approaching a frightened animal. “Lucy, you can trust me. There are a lot of men out there who would—” He shook his head. “Never mind what they’d do. Just know I’m not one of them.”

“Ok-kay.”

He let out a long sigh. “Come here. It’s getting late and I’m exhausted. I want to check your dressing at least once before I pass out.”

When I didn’t move, he stepped forward and grabbed my arms. It was gentle, but it still made my heart pound a thousand times faster.

Sawyer led me into the other room and made me sit on the couch, then took a seat next to me. He moved the neck of my sweater down, but sighed when he saw the long-sleeve shirt I wore underneath.

“Well, you’re going to have to take your shirt off. I can’t do anything through two layers, and that bottom shirt is too tight for me to be able to get a good look.”

My hands trembled, but I didn’t resist. Doing it myself was a preferable alternative to him doing it for me. I pulled the sweater off, then the other shirt, keeping it held over my bare breasts. The little knife I had hidden in my pocket peeked out, and I did my best to conceal it with my shirt. I didn’t want him to know I had it.

Sawyer exhaled and shook his head, and even though I could tell he was doing his best to focus on my dressings, more than once his eyes moved down to swell of my breasts, just visible above my crossed arms.

“Don’t you have a bra you can put on?” he snapped.

I was taken aback by his harsh tone. He hadn’t raised his voice to me once since he’d arrived, and hearing the anger in his words made my heart jump to my throat. Plus, I had no idea what he was talking about.

“A what?”

His eyes moved up to meet mine. He seemed agitated. “Never mind, just keep yourself covered.”

I wasn’t quite sure why he was suddenly affected by my nakedness when early he’d barely seemed to notice, but I did as I was told and held the shirt tightly against my chest as he unwound the bandages. It wasn’t easy, and my breasts were exposed more than once as I moved to allow him access to the bandages. Each time my flesh was bared to him, he gritted his teeth, but he never moved to touch me in a way that was the least bit inappropriate. Despite the warnings I’d always heard from my uncle, I was starting to think Sawyer was telling the truth. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt me after all.

“I’m going to clean it, then redress it with new bandages. We can boil these to reuse tomorrow.” He hoisted himself off the couch with a groan, then headed to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder. “Then I’m going to get some rest. You think your uncle will mind if I take his bed tonight? It’s a hell of a lot softer than anything I’ve slept on the last ten years or so.”

“No. He wouldn’t care.” I didn’t love the idea of him sleeping in my uncle’s bed, but it was better than him thinking he could curl up with me.

“Good.”

He came back carrying the alcohol and I pressed the shirt closer to my breasts. He acted like he didn’t notice, though. Sawyer poured some of the liquid onto a cloth and I held my breath as he cleaned the wound. It stung, but not as bad as it had earlier when it was still very fresh. The blood had started to congeal and parts had already begun to scab over. Now that I had a chance to get a really good look at it, I realized it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought. With as light-headed as I’d been, I had expected a gaping wound the size of my fist. It must have been a combination of the cold and the fear.