Rise: Populations Crumble, Book 2 by Gandy, A. (read book .txt) 📕

stop. Looking left, I spot our cabins. So I head right, towards the empty stretch of beach, and I just walk. Tears stream down my face freely now that I’m alone, and if any sobs escape me, they are torn away by the ocean wind that relentlessly whips my face.

I don’t know how long I walk in the cold, leaning into the wind with the dark, stormy ocean waves as my only company. Eventually, I stumble, and rocks bite painfully into my palms and knee, right through my jeans. I gingerly slide back to a sitting position and examine my palms. They’re sore, but not bleeding. My left knee, on the other hand, has a gash that is bleeding down my shin. I press a palm across it to staunch the bleeding, and stare out at the waves, their tumultuous show fitting my solemn demeanor.

After a few minutes, the tears stop. My mind is finally blank, numbed by the sea, the wind, and the solitude. The blood has stopped rushing in my ears, and my knee still looks ugly but has clotted for now. That’s going to suck to clean, I think absently, before hearing rocks grinding together behind me. I turn, expecting a bird or something, and see Patrick sitting a ways up the beach, watching me without intruding on my private moment. He must have shifted and caused some rocks to slide down.

He lifts a hand and gives me a small wave. I wave back, and he holds up one of my hoodies in offering. The gesture causes me to self-assess and realize that I am, in fact, freezing. I nod and start to stand, but he pops up and jogs over to me before I attempt to stand with my sore knee. I take his extended hand, and he pulls me to my feet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. My foot fell asleep, and when I moved, the rocks slid,” he says, looking bashful.

“It’s okay. How long have you been out here?” I take the jacket from him, and gratefully slide it over my tousled hair, sighing as the warmth engulfs me.

“Well, I was right behind you when you left the tour. But when you turned away from the cabin, I jogged over and got your jacket before I caught back up with you a mile or so back. I thought it would be best if you weren’t completely alone, since you seemed so upset.” He shrugs one shoulder.

“Well, thank you for bringing my jacket. I didn’t realize how cold I was until I saw it.” I rub my hands together, trying to get the blood to flow back to my chilled digits.

“Are you ready to walk back? We should probably take it slow—that knee looks like it hurts.” He frowns, concern etching his handsome face. “Are you able to walk back? I can carry you if you need me to.”

I wave a hand, dismissing his concerns. “I’m fine, but yes, let’s head back.”

I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t push me to talk, he just lets me be. We make our way slowly back towards the cabin, the wind at our backs in this direction. I stumble, and his hand wraps around my elbow before I can hit the ground again. Once I’m steady, he lets go, and I instantly miss the warmth of his grip.

“I’m sorry for dragging you out here. It was all too much, the thought of being stuck in one of those rooms for months, constantly monitored . . .” I trail off, unsure how to describe the feeling without sounding crazy. I clear my throat. “I’m used to a lot more freedom, back home. First they want us to track every intimate detail of our personal lives, and now they say they may not allow us to go home, even when we are having the baby.” A lump rises in my throat, and I have to swallow twice before I can continue. “I can’t imagine having a baby here, surrounded by medical staff, a thousand miles from home. I always thought I’d be back in Jackson Flats, with my mom and Tess, and able to take the baby home the next day. Being isolated and alone here feels like I’m no different than a monkey in a cage.” I look out over the waves, my arms tightly crossed over my chest.

“I understand why you feel that way. I don’t want to be this far from family when our child is born, either.” His voice comes out in a low, soothing murmur.

I shake my head, anger still coursing through me in hot waves.

He stops, turns to me and holds me gently by both arms. “Sadie, I promise you, right here, right now, that I will do everything in my power to make sure you get to go home.” One hand drifts up, and he gently pulls a strand of my chestnut hair back from where the wind whipped it into my face.

I look up at him, and I’m sure he can see my troubled thoughts in my eyes. His expression is tense, and I can see the muscle tick in his jaw.

His thumb swipes down my cheek, and over my lip, soft as a whisper. My reaction is involuntary, lips parting of their own accord at his touch—both comforting and searing. My thoughts scatter, the anger sucked away in the icy wind.

“I wish I knew what you were thinking right now.” His voice is still soft, almost a warm purr in my ear. His thumb skates down the side of my neck, over my frantic pulse, teasing me.

I feel myself sway towards him once, twice. His other hand slides down my arm, to entwine his fingers with my own. “We should head back and get that knee taken care of.” He gives my neck one last soft stroke, and then releases me so we can start the long trek back.

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I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, steam