It was the sound of his front door that finally roused her, snuggled in a cocoon of blankets in the spare bedroom. She scrubbed a hand across gritty eyes, grimacing as she slowly started to uncurl from the ball she’d been tucked in. Sunlight peeked in through the curtains drawn across the window in the far wall and she groaned quietly, knowing that she’d slept much later than planned.
And yet, I could go right back to sleep right now and that would be fine. Why am I so tired?
But she knew the answer—she was tired because this was the first place that she’d felt safe enough to sleep in a long time. Then there were the nightmares that had broken her sleep overnight, the ones that made bile rise in the back of her throat even thinking about them now.
Clawing her way free of the blankets, she sat up, again scrubbing a hand over her face and clearing the sleep-sand from her eyes. She looked around the room, sighing quietly. Nothing seemed changed from the night before, which only made her feel that much safer, that much more comfortable.
But I can’t stay here forever. I can’t hide forever. The thought bubbled up from somewhere in the darkness, in the dim shadows shrouding her memory of her life before the cell, but that didn’t make it any less true. I don’t know what I need to get back to, I just know that I need to get back to whatever it is as soon as I can. As soon as I remember, I guess. It wouldn’t be feasible to go before, would it? It’d probably just land me right back where I started, or worse.
How would Davion take that, though? He’d emphasized the fact that she had choices now, choices she probably hadn’t had before. She could make a different call, could disappear into the Protected Zone and whatever trouble she’d gotten into probably wouldn’t follow her.
Or would it? She wished she had the same confidence he did in the safety of the Protected Zone and her ability to vanish and simply be anonymous—to maybe reinvent herself as someone or something else.
I don’t think I’ve got it in me. Exhaling a sigh, she climbed out of bed, unbraiding her hair and trying to rake it into some semblance of order before braiding it again. Maybe it didn’t look nearly as unkempt as she felt like it did. She had very little confidence in that, too.
A light rap at the door drew her attention, the sound of a knuckle against wood. She cleared her throat and called, “You can come in. I’m decent.”
Davion eased the door open, a large bundle of cloth and other odds and ends in one arm. “Morning. You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Sounded like you were having some nightmares last night.” He set the bundle down on the chair in the corner. “Friend just dropped off some more clothes and shoes and some odds and ends for you. Figured I’d let you sleep until you were ready to get up.”
Her heart seized for a moment, stutter-stepping. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I—I didn’t think that they were all that bad.”
“I’m a light sleeper,” he said with a faint, rueful smile. “It’s okay. Just a little hyperaware sometimes, that’s all.”
“Oh.” She smiled back and headed for the bundle. He stepped back to let her unwrap it, leaning against the doorframe and watching. Inside were a few more changes of clothes, some socks, a pair of boots that looked like they’d fit her, a hairbrush, and some fasteners for her hair. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and smiled a little more broadly, nodding. “This is fantastic. Did you thank your friend for me?”
He nodded almost absently, running a hand along the stubble that still marked his cheeks and jaw. “Yeah. I told them maybe we’d see them around town in a few days, if you were up to it. They said no rush.”
She nodded, unbraiding her hair and starting to work the brush through tangles and knots that the braid had hidden. “I would like to see town, but maybe in a couple days. I’m not in any terrible rush.”
“At least not to wander around what’ll strike you as a quaint, old-timey village.”
Heat washed into her cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” he said, his grin wry. “I can tell. This isn’t for you, is it?”
“Am I that transparent?”
He shook his head, chin dipping for a moment. “No,” he said softly. “Not at all. It’s just not a surprise. It’s like I said last night—life in the Zone isn’t for everyone. If you don’t want to stay, no one is going to make you. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“I appr—wait, what?”
His brow arched. “What?”
“Did you just say you’ll take me wherever I want to go.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “You’re surprised by that.”
“Well, yeah,” she said. “From the sound of it, if you leave, you could end up arrested or worse, right? For desertion?”
“Worse than that,” he admitted. “But I’d still do it. I don’t exactly trust anyone that we could hire to take you off-world to get you anywhere safely, which means that I’ll have to do it myself.”
Well, that adds a whole new wrinkle to all of this, doesn’t it? How can I ask him to put himself in danger just because I don’t want to stay here?
Of course, she knew that wasn’t why he’d brought it up—he was clearly surprised at her confusion and concern. The way he’d said it was very matter-of-fact, steady, and her stomach twisted almost uncomfortably.
He knows what he’s doing, knows what he’s about. Who am I to tell him no? Who am I to tell him he doesn’t have to do that, especially when he said he wouldn’t trust anyone else?
“You’re not responsible for me,” she whispered, the words coming unbidden, escaping before she could stop them.
He gave her a faint, sad smile. “Kind of am. I’m going to go make breakfast.”
For the second time, on the second day in a row, he turned and stepped out the bedroom door before she could stop him, leaving her with still another knot to unravel.
