Blood Moon by Gwendolyn Harper (best sales books of all time .TXT) 📗

her lips into a line. “It’s not lasting as long. I think the generators are low on fuel.”

A knot formed in Caitlin’s stomach. They’d be out of power soon, and with Booker still sick…

Caitlin nodded. “I won’t dawdle then,” she said, trying to sound casual.

She’d never been one for cold showers, but she figured it was time to suck it up and deal.

After the initial shock, the water was soothing as it ran over her cut, rinsing the wound.

She washed, and washed, and washed. Layers of blood and filth scraping off her arms, neck, face.

Ducking her head under the spray, she watched the water turn from rust and brown, to pink, to clear.

“Wait, wait, wait! Please don’t go! Please! NO!”

She stumbled. Nearly fell against a shelf but corrected at the last second. Dizzy… So dizzy… She had to run.

Run, run, run, as fast as you can…

Caitlin’s gaze followed the remnants of her actions circle the drain.

She did what she had to.

She survived.

She came back.

A knock at the door made her jump.

“Caitlin?” Nicole called.

With a shaking hand, she reached out and shut the shower off.

“Yeah?”

“Booker’s awake.”

Chapter Two

“Would you cut that out?”

Caitlin rolled her eyes, patting his forehead with the damp rag again. “No.”

“Cae—”

“You’re still running a fever.”

“Not as bad as before,” he said, hoarse voice making his accent thicker. “I can even hold my head up and piss by myself.”

“Booker—”

Warm hands caught her arm, keeping her still. “Hey, c’mere.”

Tugging the washcloth out of her grasp, he set it aside before urging her closer.

Caitlin pushed back. “Jack…”

“I just wanna hold you,” he murmured, inching over on the bed to give her space.

With a deep sigh, she relented, curling onto her side with him at her back. His muscled arm wrapped around her waist, pressing her close.

“We’re supposed to be keeping you cool,” she said, arching her neck to try to look at him.

“Nah, I’ll be alright.”

So goddamn stubborn.

“Booker.”

“Meadows,” he teased.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled. “Fine. Two minutes.”

“I’ll take it.”

They were quiet as they lay there, nothing but each other’s breathing and the occasional bird chirp outside breaking the silence.

Booker’s other hand slid up the back of her neck, gently rubbing circles over the tight muscles that curved into her shoulders.

When he started playing with her hair, Caitlin tensed milliseconds before his fingertips ran over the stitches in her scalp.

“What’s—”

“Alright cowboy, time’s up,” she said abruptly, forcing his arm off her so she could get off the bed. “I’m gonna go make you something to eat.”

“Cae, what hap—”

“Shh, just rest,” she said, hardly looking at him as she left, closing the door behind her.

Tears blurred her vision as she hurried downstairs.

What was she supposed to tell him? That she’d done the unthinkable?

And that she’d done it for him?

She couldn’t let Booker carry that on his conscience.

Caitlin had made it home. That’s all he needed to know.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks.

Nicole stood by the table with the revolver in her hands, counting the shells.

“You fired a shot.” It wasn’t a question.

Caitlin’s lips parted, searching for the words.

“You wouldn’t have wasted a bullet on one Geek,” Nicole continued. “So—”

“What exactly are you looking for here, Nicole?” Caitlin snapped, panic and fear boiling over in her chest. “You’re snooping through my stuff, acting like I’m a criminal. I mean, Jesus Christ, you want me to take a lie detector test?”

Setting the revolver down, Nicole spread her hands in a placating move.

“Caitlin, I’m not accusing you of anything. If anyone understands the realities of this world, it’s me. But you clearly experienced something traumatic yesterday, and I just think if you talked about it—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she cut her off. “I don’t want to have a girly vent session over a glass of wine. It was awful, and terrifying, and I never want to think about it again, so just drop it.”

Caitlin turned, looking for an escape in a home without one.

Sighing, she went back to her original plan—making food for Booker.

Digging through the cabinets, pulling out beans and canned chicken, she tried to think of a way to make it taste even remotely appetizing.

Warmth rushed her a second before she was wrapped in a bear hug, Nicole pulling her in as close as possible.

“I’m sorry, Caitlin,” Nicole whispered against her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Stunned, Caitlin didn’t return the hug right away.

But once she did, the tears flowed, and they didn’t stop for some time.

* * * * * * *

Two days later Booker’s fever broke.

Caitlin awoke in the early morning to him fighting with sweat-soaked sheets, grunting under his breath about needing a shower.

“Whoa, easy,” she said, tripping out of the rocking chair to rush to him. “Go slow, Booker.”

“’M alright, songbird,” he said, gingerly standing. “I can take care of myself.”

There wasn’t any heat to his words, but the phrase still caught Caitlin like a sucker punch.

It’d been a while since she’d been given the brush off by Booker, and usually she could track the reasoning.

Not this time.

With each shuffling step he took, she felt a canyon being carved between them.

Biting the inside of her lip, Caitlin stared at a spot on the hardwood floor until she heard the shower turn on.

There were a dozen things she wanted to do, wanted to say.

Instead, she began stripping the bed and searching for spare sheets.

By the time she heard him shut the water off, she’d just pulled out his extra clean clothes.

Booker returned, a towel wrapped around his waist, damp hair dripping onto his bare shoulders.

“Is