“Share. Please.”
“I was just thinking …” another giggle burst forth, making my lips twitch with the desire to join her.
“What?”
“I hope I’m not a vegetarian …” her voice trailed off as she burst into laughter.
I had to join in her merriment. Lifting up my glass, I toasted her. “Here’s hoping you’re not an alcoholic either.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth but the amusement spilled over. Unable to help myself, I found myself roaring with laughter with her.
Rabbit had a great sense of humor.
I liked it.
Fuck. Of course I did.
Chapter Eight
Joshua
Rabbit moved yet again. We were sitting by the fire, neither of us talking much. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Since our shared laughter at dinner, we had slipped back into a more companionable state. Using one of the gas lights, I was scanning some notes I had printed before the storm had hit. Rabbit was sitting across from me, closer to the fire, but seemed to be shifting a lot. I watched her for a few minutes and noticed the constant winces of pain as she moved.
“Did you hurt yourself when you fell this afternoon?” I asked, breaking the silence.
She looked over, startled. “I’m not sure, but my side aches.”
I thought about it for a moment, remembering the huge patchwork of bruising she had on her side. What if she had caused further damage today? I took in a deep breath. “Your side was really bruised and swollen. I was worried about how bad it looked. Would you let me look at it? Just to make sure it’s okay?”
She hesitated and then nodded. She got up slowly and came over to me. I switched on a light, using precious power, but needing it to see clearly.
“I’m just going to lift the shirt so I can see, okay?”
“Okay.” The one word was spoken so faintly I could barely hear her.
I lifted the edge of the shirt and saw a large mass of bruising. Once again, I fought back the wave of fury I felt at seeing the evidence of her beating. The area was still swollen and red and the imprint of the top of a shoe, which was more vivid than ever, told me whoever had done this, had stomped on her. Hard. I felt my stomach lurch at the thought of what she had endured.
“Is it okay if I touch you?”
All I got was a nod. Gingerly, I traced over the bruises. The area was warm but not overly hot. I couldn’t see any additional bruising but I noticed how she suddenly flinched and heard the small gasp as my fingers traced the shoe imprint. “Sorry,” I whispered, hating the thought of causing her additional pain. The desire to press my lips over the bruises and heal her with my touch hit me and I pulled back quickly before I followed through on my impulse. I dropped the shirt and hesitated before asking her if I could look at her leg as well. She nodded and I pulled back the sweats she was wearing, checking the dark angry bruises there, as well. “I think they’re just tender. You probably hit them when you fell, so you are feeling it more tonight,” I assured her. A thought occurred to me. I sat back unsure how she would take my idea.
“I think we should take some pictures of your bruising,” I said quietly.
She stiffened. “Why?”
“When you remember who you are, you may need evidence of what happened to you. I’ll use my camera and put the pictures on a flash drive for you. I’ll erase them after. I promise.”
I heard another soft okay.
I got up and grabbed my camera and a ruler, and then took some pictures. Each bruise I looked at made me nauseous again. I used the ruler against the hand and foot prints to show their approximate size, in case Rabbit needed that information. I could feel the anger building at the faceless person who did this and I wanted nothing more than to give them a taste of their own punishment. When I finished, I stood up. My voice was tense. “All done.”
I helped her straighten up from where she had been leaning on the sofa, holding onto her until I felt she could stand on her own again. She stood; her eyes downcast and I could see the tears falling down her cheeks. I knew exactly how vulnerable she was feeling at the moment. But I wasn’t ready to share that with her. Instead, I leaned forward and brushed my lips gently against her forehead.
“You were very brave to let me do that,” I whispered quietly against her skin, wanting to praise her for her courage. She didn’t say anything, but I felt a deep shuddering sigh flow through her. Before I could even acknowledge the need to do so, I wrapped my arms around her and stood holding her. She burrowed into my chest and my arms tightened, holding her closer, still mindful of her injuries. We stood silently for a few minutes, both taking comfort in our closeness. Regretfully, I pulled away and sat her on the sofa. I got some pain pills and gave them to her. “Don’t let it get so bad. Stay ahead of the pain,” I scolded her gently.