Flames of the Forgotten

Chapter Eighteen

My first evening in my new cabin went well. The weird tension between Jackson and I dissipated during dinner. We fell into easy chatter discussing tomorrow's to-do list. It felt nice to have someone to talk plans out with. I think for him, too. I'll be learning how to make and set snares tomorrow, and Jackson seems as excited to teach me as I am to learn. He said it gets to be a lot of work checking and resetting so many every day. It feels good to know I can take some burden away from him rather than feeling like being one.

The stew was much better with the added flavor from the chicken broth, and the noodles made it filling and kind of homey. We both stuffed ourselves, knowing the noodles would become complete mush if we tried to keep the soup warm for the next day.

After dinner, we cleaned up and looked over some of that old notebook together.

... and now it's fallen dark, and we're both awkwardly sitting at the table because it's time for bed.

It was one thing when he curled in with me after a nightmare; that was unplanned. This is us going to bed together, and it's beyond weird.

"I think I'm going to use the outhouse and then crash," Jackson thankfully breaks up the silence.

"Good idea. I'll go after you," I say all too eagerly.

He nods as he stands to leave, and I let out a sigh of relief once the door closes.

When he gets back, I duck out and forget I'm wearing shorts. I run to the outhouse as fast as I can and then race back.

"Brr! It's getting so cold!" I say, rubbing my arms vigorously as I step inside.

Jackson lifts the covers for me. He's already lying in the bed. "Damn, you must be freezing get in here! I'll go get your clothes tomorrow morning."

I hurry to join him, pulling the blanket tightly around myself once I'm settled in. I curl on my side, mimicking Jackson's posture so we are facing each other.

"Do you want an extra blanket?" Jackson asks.

No, I want your arms around me. I don't say that as badly as I want to. Instead, I say, "It's okay. I'm already starting to warm up."

"You're adjusting so well to being out here. How?" Jacksons asks.

"What other choice did I have? I knew if I wasted even a day feeling bad for myself, I'd regret it later, so I just... got to work, I guess."

"I can't believe you're not pissed, or depressed, or both."

"I was both," I explain. "The night my dad dropped me here, I hadn't even had dinner. He could've made sure I had my favorite meal before sending me off to starve. But no. He never thinks things through. I was so mad at him that it made me walk faster. I think my anger got me to safety." 

"That must have been scary here that first night," he murmurs.  

"It was. Once I was able to sit in that shelter, it all hit me. That's when the anger turned into tears. I'll admit I cried like a damn baby that night, exhausted myself to sleep."

"Of course you did," he says softly. "Fuck. What a goddamn dumbass sending you out here at night, that was so dangerous."

"He was panicked..."

"Don't do that," he cuts me off.

"Do what?"

"Make excuses for him. Your dad made so many wrong steps before you ended up here, and that's all on him. You're his daughter he's supposed to protect you."