Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Cyrus

My eyes fluttered open to find Crow still sitting in the same chair, watching me. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he’d been there all night, that he hadn’t slept and had kept vigil over me, yes, but he also wasn’t comfortable with me in his cabin—if you could call it that. Cabins felt small to me, and this…wasn’t.

Had anyone ever been here? Did he have secret mountain-man friends? Women he brought up here to fuck? Even as I asked myself those questions, I somehow knew the answer was no. That no one had been here in an extremely long time except for me.

“Why?” I asked, unable to hold back the question. “I’m not your concern. You could have helped me to my car and let me drive home last night. Why did you bring me here?”

He stood silently, not even the chair willing to make a creaking sound beneath him. He walked over to me, then gave me an up-nod like he wanted me to stand up. When I didn’t, he reached for me swiftly, my instincts making me flinch even though deep in my heart, I didn’t believe Crow would hurt me. I didn’t believe he would hurt anyone unless they gave him a reason to, and then, like with Billy at the store yesterday, all bets were off.

It made him stop, though. His head cocked slightly, but I didn’t think he realized he did it. His face hardened, his mouth tightening into a straight line. He grabbed me and jerked me to my feet…well, foot. “Jesus Christ. Someone got up on the wrong side of the chair this morning,” I joked, but of course I didn’t get a laugh in return.

He gave a jerky nod toward the door.

“I have to piss.” He closed his eyes and let out a breath as if he was tired of me. “You’re the one who brought me here. Don’t treat me like shit because you’re sick of me.” It was something I was used to. I wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. While I was pretty steady now, my mood swings could be a lot—okay one day and then unable to pull myself out of bed the next, and when I did struggle, my mood swings were often cycling rapidly, so I was all over the place, and people around me had no idea what to expect. Mental illness was a bitch. I took medication for it, but it had plagued me for most of my life. People had judged me for it, walked away from me because of it, looked at me like I was broken because of it. The thought of Crow doing that made my skin prickle more. That shouldn’t be the case. It shouldn’t matter to me what this man thought of me, but it did.

I began to limp toward the door. Crow let me get a couple of steps in before his fingers wrapped around my wrist. He gave a small shake of his head, and then without a word, lifted me again.

“Sweet Jesus. I can walk. I’m not helpless.”

He didn’t listen, of course, instead walking me down the hallway and into the bathroom. He set me on my feet, then stood with his arms crossed, waiting.

“You want to watch me pee?” He rolled his eyes in response. “You really don’t trust me in your space at all, do you?” Because he wasn’t used to having someone in his space. Because this was his, and he’d been through so fucking much in his life, and he’d been here alone for ten-ish years. It hit me then how big it really was that Crow had brought me here at all. “I’m sorry I invaded your mountain…and that I hurt my ankle, so you felt like you had to bring me here. I know this is sacred to you—your home. I’ll go as soon as I’m done.”

I hobbled to the toilet, feeling Crow’s eyes on me. His eyes were always on me, and it was unnerving and welcome at the same time. I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, pulled my dick out, and began to piss. I wasn’t shy of my body. There had been times I was so high, I’d strip for my ex and all his friends, dance for them and blow them, always the life of the party, always the center of attention. Eddie’s slut boy—the reason he kept me around and the reason they all liked me.

When I finished, I scooted to the sink. It put me close to Crow, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off him. The scent of Douglas firs, musk, and fresh air filled my senses again.

I expected him to move, to take a step back, but instead, when I turned the faucet on and began washing, he reached out, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand.

I sucked in a sharp breath, watched him in the mirror. His gaze didn’t meet mine there, instead looking at how he touched me.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t want him to stop.

Crow fingered a lock of my hair next, rubbing it between his index finger and his thumb. I trembled when his large, warm hand went back to my cheek. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into it, nuzzling into him, because this touch felt so fucking different from anything I’d felt before—like he was in awe of me, like he was cherishing me and taking care of me. Like he didn’t feel worthy of me, and that was fucking crazy because I wasn’t shit. There wasn’t and had never been anything special about me.

“Crow,” whispered past my lips, my stupid decision breaking the moment and making him pull back. With a sigh, I turned off the water. “I can walk,” I snapped when he tried to pick me up. God, what was wrong with me? I was hurt because this man I didn’t know didn’t want me? That he’d stopped touching me?

For the first time, Crow listened. He kept close as I limped toward the living room, and when I almost stumbled into the wall, he stopped me and slowly put his arm around me as if asking my permission.

I nodded because I didn’t want to fall. When we got back into the living room, I leaned against the back of the couch, staring off into the kitchen area while he grabbed my shoes and socks, placing the ones I wouldn’t need in the backpack I’d brought with me. He nodded for me to sit on the arm of the couch, and I did, not letting myself look at him while he put my sock and shoe on my good foot. His fingers brushed against the bandage on the other, but I didn’t tremble this time, didn’t feel much of anything, if I was being honest.

He tried to put his arm around me again, and I stiffened, though I wanted Crow’s hands on me. He pulled back, gave me a look that said not to move, then disappeared into the hallway.

He’d left me alone.

What was he doing?

Seconds later, he came out with a pair of crutches that would have been really fucking convenient to have earlier. “Oh, now you bring these out?”

He shrugged and sized them correctly for me, then handed them over.

Crow took the bags and followed me outside. The sun was bright up here, but the trees did a great job of offering shade.

I took in the grounds in a way I couldn’t last night—Crow’s large cabin, a barn, and another building, wood he was clearly cutting, large gardens filled with vegetables, and flowers planted everywhere. There was a greenhouse too. It was like his own world. “It’s incredible,” I whispered, unable to hold the words back, but instead of replying, he just nudged me on my way. Again, it stung.

I started down the gravel road, but he stopped me and nodded toward his truck. Oh, that made sense. Easier than hopping all the way to my car.

The drive was quiet except for the sounds of the engine and gravel crunching beneath the tires. When we got to the gate, Crow got out to press the code in to open it. Had he done all this on his own? Was it even possible to do all this on his own? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

He came back to me, opened my door, and helped me out.

“I can handle it from here.”

He ignored me, walking with me to my car.

I got in, tried to hand him back the crutches, but he shook his head.

“You should keep them,” I told him. “I’m sure you have them in case anything happens to you out here.”

He just put them in the back seat.

I waited, wishing he would say something, needing words from him again, needing fucking something, but only silence and Crow’s now detached brown gaze met me.

I closed the door, started the car, and pulled away. When I glanced in the rearview mirror, he was already gone.