Colder Weather

"Incredible change happens in your life when you decide to take control of what you do have power over instead of craving control over what you don't."
― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

Redfield, North Dakota - Winter- 2018

The little cabin where his parents had spent countless summers sent plumes of smoke into the swirling winter sky. This was his resting place, his place where he went to find his peace. It was his sanctuary.

What was it Superman had?

His fortress of solitude.

He sat listening to the snow fall beyond the window, wondering what good came from solitude. In most of his life, it had been his preogative to be alone. Safer alone. Cleaner. Smoother. No ties. No strings. No traps.

And no one available to be used to torture.

If you loved nothing, you lost nothing. If you lived alone, you protected anyone who cared about you.

So?

He lived alone.

And he'd never in his life been lonely.

He was lonely now.

He missed the comfort of a daily routine. He missed the sunrise on the lake. The fucking lake. Kennedy was always talking about his damn lake. "You gotta see it man, it's like...this moment of utter bliss. There's nothing but sky and water and peace. You'll never want to leave.

He'd laughed, "You fucking girl. On Golden Pond over here waxing romantic about a body of water."

The joke was on him. It really was. Because Kennedy? He was right. There was nothing more peaceful than sky and lake and land.

He'd gone back to the battle. He'd spent weeks in the mud and muck and blood and thick of it all. It was the first time he'd come back from a mission empty. There was nothing there for him to come home to.

Just this empty cabin.

And he finally understood Leon Kennedy's struggle. What came after the fight? When you finally ran out of darkness to battle, what came next?

In this case? It was nothing.

He had nothing waiting for him.

And it was the first time he'd felt the hardest hit of regret he'd ever known.

He'd spared the pain of loving a woman. He'd spared the pain of raising a family.

And he was alone.

He'd never known the pain of it until he'd sat in Kennedy's chair, played his god damn guitar, and raised his fucking kid. And now?

Now he was washed in it. Because he missed the ranch. Yeah, he did.

But he grieved the kid. Jill left voicemails with her voice on his phone. He listened to them so much he was surprised he couldn't mimic her laughter.

He wanted the kid and for a man that didn't want for anything, it was a hard truth to face.

And what was worse?

He fucking missed Rebecca. Not like he missed Jill when she was gone. Not like that. Jill was his soul twin. His partner in crime. His other piece. It wasn't sexual, not entirely, not for years. He loved Jill.

No hiding it. No lying. He loved her.

But he wasn't in love with her.

He might have been, once, if things had been different. But it had become the best love story never told. And they were better for it.

There wasn't any regret there. No even a little.

But there was regret here.

Because he missed the kid...and he missed her mother. And he didn't like himself for it.

He'd spent years overlooking her. They didn't run in the same circles. Not often. She was all science and behind the scenes. He was the fight and the fire. They didn't brush up on each other often enough to matter. Maybe four times in all the years after Raccoon City.

And then the thing with Arias. And the chopper. And her face while she'd sat there looking at Leon Kennedy.

He'd teased her. She'd laughed. No harm, no foul - no worries. But he'd seen her, maybe for the first time, as a woman that day. It would have been nothing, really. But the captivity had happened.

And their days were spent with each other. They'd become such strong friends. Thick as thieves, bonded like prisoners, but held together by mutual affection. They LIKED each other. It was that simple.

She made him laugh. She was so SURE they'd get away. She was so SURE Leon would come. Her faith was unshakeable.

What had Jill said about Leon when she was with him in recovery? I never poached, she said, not once. Not really.

He hadn't poached.

But he'd looked.

And he'd seen her, for the first time ever maybe. The little thing so often lost in the shadow of stronger women, bigger women, more classically beautiful women. But that was a bullshit cop-out too. Because he'd NEVER met anyone stronger.

She wasn't a punch in the face. She was a whisper in the dark.

And the power of her faith was stronger than any bullet, any bomb, any punch in the face he'd ever delivered. Because it was titanium. It was impenetrable. She KNEW what waited in the dark. She knew what waited in the beyond. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this isn't where her story ended.

He'd been drawn to that first, that strength.

The love? That had come naturally. I'm not your sister, she'd said. And he knew that. He knew it. And he'd never seen her that way.

He wished he could. It would make things easier to see her that way.

He wouldn't lie awake at night picturing her naked and bucking.

Lord.

He shifted and looked out over the snowy horizon. It was time to make moves toward building something for himself. Enough coveting Leon Kennedy's life.

He was CHRIS REDFIELD.

It was time to make his own.

But he picked up the phone to listen to Faith's voicemail and he just kept staring out into the snow.

Silver Lake Montana - Winter - 2019

Mid January in Montana was colder than a well digger's ass. It was all snow and frozen tundra.

"You're sure?"

They stood in the snow, surrounded by most of the ranch hands. Rebecca finished loading up the Jeep, she grinned and hugged Jill - tight and hard.

"I'm sure. Never been more sure of anything in my life. It's what he'd want. You're ok with it?"

"You kidding? I can't think of anything I'd want more."

They were teary eyed as they held on to each other. And Rebecca said, "I can feel him here. Only here. I have to leave, now, for me, for awhile. To stop feeling him."

Jill nodded, stroking a hand over her face, "Is it ok that I..." She trailed off, choking up a bit.

Rebecca cupped her face as two fat tears plopped on her cheeks, "Is it ok that you want to stay here and feel him?"

Jill shook her head, making a small sound of grief, "I'm sorry. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud."

"No. No. I think it sounds just right. You loved him. And this place? It fits you, Jill. It suits you. He'd want someone who loved it like he did to run it. That was never me. I can't love this place just because he did. That's not me." She kissed her, soft and loving, "Take care of him for me."

Jill nodded, teary eyed, "You have everything you need?"

"More than," Rebecca touched her sleeping twenty month old daughter. She touched his Jeep. She touched Excalibur, "I have everything I need and more. Christmas?"

"Definitely. Drive safe."

"I will. I love you, Jill."

"I love you, Rebecca Chambers."

Rebecca hopped in the driver seat and fired up the engine. It purred, happy and loved. She stroked a hand over the dashboard, smiling.

Jill knocked on the glass and she lowered the window, smiling.

And the thief said, "There was an outbreak in Flat Rock River, Minnesota. Airport mess like Harvardville but smaller scale. Good intel shut it down before it got beyond the airport itself."

They locked eyes. Rebecca smiled at her.

And Jill added, "Could use some help on determining the point of origin though...and what strain it is."

Rebecca put her tongue in her cheek, "Hmm. You're not going?"

Jill grinned at her and patted the door of the Jeep, "Well...didn't you hear? They couldn't get the Executioner, of course, but they don't need the Immortal either. Know why?"

Rebecca laughed, shaking her head, "They already have the Human Tank?"

"Bingo, kid. Watch out for that black ice. It's murder."

Rebecca drove to the main road. She waited for the crushing feeling of leaving Leon behind her. She waited to feel it in her guts and her blood. But she was good.

She was GOOD.

She had all she needed of him in this Jeep with her.

And the memory of what might have been left on the ranch where Jill Valentine sat in his chair and communed with his ghost.

Jill turned back to face the house. I can feel him here, Rebecca said. And she was right.

He was here. He was still here. Aloud, Jill mused, "What a guy you are, Leon Kennedy, to haunt girls long after you're gone. I'll make you proud here, I swear to God I will."

The wind rustled...and she was pretty sure that was a little show of faith that offered his answer.

And Jill Valentine became the girl who'd never been afraid to live with the ghost of Leon Kennedy.

Flat Rock River, Minnesota - Winter - 2019

The cold was impreggnable here. It was murder. It left you breathless and trembling.

It was ok there too. She'd gotten used to Montana cold. This wasn't any worse. It was lake effect. It was something to feel it. She'd lived in Chicago for years. She could handle cold.

She caught glimpses of Quint and Keith huddled around a trashcan fire as she rolled up in the Jeep. They were ear muffed and hunkered around the flames, shaking and likely cursing Chris Redfield for making them work in the early stages of a snowstorm.

Rebecca alighted, glancing at the curling trails of smoke from the still burning airport. The late stages, clearly, either sanitation was occurring or it was left over burning from a crash or explosion. The smell of acrid destruction tickled the nostrils.

Quint saw her first and laughed madly, waving, "CHAMBERS! Holy fat fuck on the back of a naked mermaid! Whatcha doin here!?"

Quint was always colorful. He had no filter. He was a complete mess emotionally. He was often rude and missing social graces. He was thin faced with big ears and a concave skinny frame. His hang dog face was perpetually grinning.

She kinda loved him.

Keith was handsome in a stick thin Denzel pre-Training Day kinda way. He was trying to grow a beard and failing. The patchwork mess on his dark skin was amusing beneath the ugly sock hat he wore.

They were call signs Jackass and Grinder. Terrible names. But always together - which somehow made them sound like a crime fighting duo in a bad sitcom.

Rebecca grinned and accepted his hug. Her big purple parka insulated her like a electric blanket. The hat she wore left her face carefully shrouded. The scarf looped at her neck protected her cheeks and lips from wind burn.

She answered, hugging Keith as he wandered over, "I heard you might need some extra hands."

"You fucking bet we do!" Quint grinned, "But I heard you retired."

"Hah. No. Just...taking some time off."

Keith and Quint both nodded, looking sad. Keith remarked, "Heard about the baby though, congrats."

"Thank you. She's wonderful."

Quint shifted a little, "Shame about Kennedy. That cat was a fucking god. Scary to think we're mortal huh? I think we forget sometimes."

Rebecca smiled softly, "You're right about that."

Quint gestured with his head, "You need to speak to Leonidas over there if you want to know where we need ya. He's got us out here freezing our tits off to protect the pass or something from Xerxes. Like if we go home to warm up our sacks, the zombies are gonna rise again and start killing the 8 people that live in this tiny ass town."

Keith snorted a little. Rebecca laughed lightly, "I think I will. Maybe I can get him to ease off a little huh?"

"I'll kiss your sweet cheeks if you do it, Chambers. No lie there."

Rebecca winked and opened the back door of the Jeep. Faith was awake and bundled, grinning at her.

Quint peeped in and grinned back, "The kid is cute, man! Keith look at this kid! It's Kennedy right?"

Keith smiled gently and patted Rebecca's arm, "She does look like him. She's beautiful."

"Thank you." Rebecca picked her up and she giggled, "I'll head over to the tent and see what's up."

Quint grinned at her, "Maybe dinner later? We're all going to the diner down by the hotel after we're done here."
"Sure. Sounds like fun."

"Awesome. Good to see you, Chambers. Bye offspring!"

Offspring. What a thing to call a kid. Rebecca had to laugh.

Faith waved her mitten as Rebecca wandered toward the tent with her.

In the command tent, Chris was leaning over the table in the small lighted area with Barry Burton and Josh Stone. They were coordinating, clearly, on whatever mission had just gone down or was fixing to. Barry saw her first and grinned, waving.

Chris, with his back to her, was pointing at something on his war table. It looked like little chess pieces and a map. He moved one, Josh nodded, and he moved it back.

He was filthy. She could see the curls of old soot on his neck and ears. His face was blackened with it. He'd gone into the fire at some point. He wore gray camouflage and the sleeves were curled up over his elbows leaving his forearms bare to his fingerless gloves. The sock hat in pale gray was pulled over his ears and singed at one corner. He had a walkie talkie clipped to his belt at his left hip and was wearing a vest strapped with ammo and first aid.

Rebecca waved back to Barry, Josh Stone turned - in his pea green BSAA uniform- and saw her, and nudged Chris with his elbow.

There are a handful of moments you never forget.

The first time you find out about Santa Claus.

The first time you kiss somebody you really like.

The first time you look into the face of your baby and wonder how you could love somebody so much that you just met.

And the moment you remember what matters in the world, when you've just about given up hope.

His walkie talkie crackled. He moved to grab it and answer as he turned, showing his face to Rebecca as she approached, and Faith let out a shriek that was so loud it startled the other workers that were around them.

"DADDY!"

Rebecca's heart stopped. She actually threw her hand to her chest to start it again.

Faith struggled in her arms to be put down, desperately. Rebecca set her down, unable to hold on to her.

Barry shifted in the tent, grinning. "I hear that right?"

Josh was grinning too, "Pretty sure she wasn't talking about you, old man."

The bearded red head laughed, unoffended.

That wasn't even the best part.

The little thing waddling through the snow was determined. She was laughing high and bright and happy. Like she'd seen Santa.

"DADDY! DADDY!"

Barry was watching Chris. And there was nothing like that moment, mused the older man, the second you see your kid after a long mission. That look on his old friend's face? That was what joy looked like. It was what being a father looked like.

He'd never thought he'd see it on Chris. It warmed the cockles of his old heart to know he could still be surprised at his age. And that he wasn't immune to happiness. Because he felt it now for Chris Redfield.

Chris dropped the walkie talkie on the table. He turned and...he laughed.

He laughed.

And Barry couldn't remember the last time he'd heard him laugh.

More than that? He grinned.

And in the middle of a place mired in death and sadness, there was just a little bit of joy. Josh mused, "I didn't know he had children."

Barry smiled, crossing his big arms, "Funny thing about that. Neither did I."

The mountain and the baby met in the snow like two reunited puzzle pieces. He scooped her up, tossing her high with a squeal, and she landed and grabbed his ears. She slobbered all over his face. She kissed his laughing mouth.

She squealed, "COLD!"

And he answered, gruffly, "Not anymore. Where ya been, my girl? Where?"

She grabbed his big neck and clung, eyes twinkling like little blue stars in her cold pinked face.

Faith kissed his cheek, giggling at the tickling beard. "Daddy! SHOO SHOO!" She touched his dirty face and looked charmingly offended by it, "Shoo-shoo!"

"I would have showered if I'd known I had a date."

Faith batted her lashes at him, "Daddy - kiss?"

"You little flirt - who says no?" He kissed her while she giggled and blew raspberry on her neck.

Barry glanced at Josh. Stone looked like he'd seen Redfield fart on a zombie or something. Admittedly, it was a shock. In all the time he'd known him, had he ever thought Chris would want children?

Maybe, in the beginning, but it had been lost somewhere under the fight. Whatever else was true? That kid loved Chris Redfield. She kept rubbing his ears and cooing at him.

Rebecca came up beside them, smiling in the semi-darkness. "What kind of tank stands in the cold giggling over a baby?"

He grinned at her while Faith put her ear on his shoulder and clung, rubbing at his chest where she gripped, "The stupid kind. I stayed away too long."

"I'd agree with that statement." She held his gaze for a long moment. And went with truth again, "I missed you."

The warmth on his face softened further. His turned his hand over and Rebecca took it, squeezing. And he answered her, softly, "I missed you guys too, B."

A plural statement. A safe statement. She was looking for something that wasn't here.

Rebecca patted his hand with her other one, keeping the smile on her face, "We're here now. I'd love to help. Think you can keep her while I offer my services out there?"

"Happy to. They could use some help in the medic tent."

"Ah...back to my roots, it seems."

He grinned a little. "Once a medic, always a medic huh?"

"That's the rumor." They were still holding hands. A simple little shift and their fingertips brushed. His thumb swept the inside of her wrist. Tiny things. Meaningless.

Meaningful.

"I'll get to stitching up booboos, then." She let go.

Their fingers trailed apart.

And she left him in the snow with her laughing daughter.

It wasn't a bad way to reunite.

She went into the medic tent aching a little and unsure why.

An easy dinner. A friendly reunion of comrades and friends. Laughter and drinks and stories. About Leon. About life. About loss.

The diner was quaint and friendly. It was an homage to Canada that made her remember the one where she'd faced off against Ada Wong and had the first of many verbal spars.

A maple leaf hung over the booth where she sat, one leg drawn up comfortably, coffee at her hand on the table.

Faith sat with Chris across from her. She was showing her drawings. She was getting all the attention.

It felt good to let her.

Faith was pulling Barry's beard. Quint and Keith were reminiscing about Terragrigia and how it was WARM THERE. Quint kept calling Minnesota "colder than a well digger's ass."

Rebecca was watching the waitress behind the counter serve truckers that were coming in off the icy roads. Josh and Mira were at the bar sharing fries and showing each other things on their phones.

Lots of laughter.

It felt REALLY good to her.

Better than she'd felt on that ranch. Better than she'd felt in a long time. The only time she'd been really happy there was with Claire and Jill and Chris around her. Alone? She'd never felt right there.

Rebecca turned her head to watch Faith get a raspberry on her belly by Barry and laugh wildly and loudly. Rebecca's mouth turned up in a grin. She reached for her coffee and found it gone.

Her eyes drifted over the table.

His sock hat was on the red vinyl top. His hair was sticking up with static and sweat. He had a smoke tucked behind one dirty ear. He really was filthy. Terribly. Nothing handsome at all in the mess of it.

Soot was smeared from one side of his face and up his nose to his eyebrows mixed with blood from a shallow cut on his chin. It made them look like thick black worms on his face. A good face - under all the dirt. Something saved it from being too handsome - some line of jaw or crooked slant of nose.

Someone had broken that nose at some point. She knew he'd been a football player and a wrestler in highschool. Maybe there.

Maybe in all the fighting he'd done since.

A good face to stare at though. Nothing the same in the features. He was half bearded, his lashes were super long and pretty - seeing as he had Claire's eyes in his face, and his mouth was full over those perfect teeth. Big ears in a charming way that highlighted the horrible state of his hair above it. She could see the salt and pepper in his hair - but he'd been going gray as long as she'd known him. It was flattering.

Filthy though. Just slick with oil, soot, sweat and survival. His eyes were insanely blue behind the black. Shot through with green and gold. They were beautiful on Claire.

They were better on her brother.

Plenty worth looking at.

He was sipping her coffee and watching her.

She tilted her head, looking back. He had a little teasing crook to his mouth that she liked. Made sense. He'd stolen her coffee. One of his arms was propped on the table at the elbow. He was stroking a single finger over his chin contemplatively - tracing the slight cleft there.

She liked the directness of his looking at her. She always had. No games here. He didn't wink and coo and flirt. He just...looked right at you.

Rebecca tilted her head, brow lifted curiously. He shrugged one shoulder like she'd verbalized a question. A conversation without words.

She smiled, warming. She bit her lip to stop a little laugh. She watched it happen. He looked at her mouth and back at her face.

Oh.

Her belly quivered a little.

Faith was laughing loudly while Barry tickled her. It was a bright, happy back drop. There was a clatter of dishes behind the counter. Someone cold out an order for waffles. A noisy place - filled with excitement and movement.

He didn't bother to look away from her.

She'd have PAID someone to know what he was thinking.

He was thinking about her naked. It wasn't the first time he'd done. The first time - he'd been touring with her for an afternoon on Bravo Team as a backup. She'd bent down to pick something up and he'd looked at her butt. Why not? He was a guy. She was a girl. She was younger than his sister, sure, but she was a girl.

She was small and skinny. He'd wondered if his dick was bigger than her. So he'd looked and pictured her naked.

He'd joked with her on the chopper when she'd been mooning on Kennedy. Harmless. But not really. He'd meant it. He generally didn't bother to flirt. He just told the truth. He could have stolen her from Kennedy that day with a simple throw down but it wasn't his style. He didn't bother with girls most days.

He hadn't looked again until their time in the castle.

He couldn't stop looking now. She was fuller now. She had been since her pregnancy. She was big enough chested even post breastfeeding that she had a nice spill of cleavage in that v-neck sweater she wore.

He looked. Naturally. It was there. She watched it happen.

Oh, it was a good feeling.

She tilted her head back the other way, grinning now. She took one of his cigarettes from the pack on the table between them. She didn't light it, she poked it behind her ear like a mirror of him.

The leg she had under the table shifted. Her sock clad foot found his calf and rubbed, absently.

Eyes on each other, his hand caught her foot under the table and stroked the arch of it with his thumb. Simple. Friendly.

She rolled her bottom lip under her teeth, laughing lightly.

And his mouth tilted in a half smile.

Quint shouted, "B! B! You hear this shit?! You hear this!? Keith said you can survive with BAT DNA mixed with yours! WHAT THE FIGGITY FUCK!? You ever heard anything so damn dumb? He says his brother was bit by a bat and TURNED INTO ONE GENETICALLY! Like a comic book! Like Spiderman! HAHA! OH HAHAHA!"

Quint was heehawing so loud you had to be charmed by it.

She kept looking at Chris. He shook his head, holding that half smile.

And he said, "Welcome home, B."

And that? That felt perfect.

He played Blackbird for Faith to get her to sleep.

Rebecca heard him sing softly while she showered. She heard his voice grumble as the baby drifted off.

He knocked on the bathroom door, quietly, and said through it, "She's down. You mind if I hang for a bit and play?"

Rebecca stood in the swirling heat, looking at her face in the foggy mirror, "Nope. I brought it for you. Help yourself."

A moment in time. And, "Thanks."

There was no Leon Kennedy here. It was the first time she'd been able to breathe since he died.

Welcome home, B. And she felt more at home here, in the cold with these people, than she had the whole time she'd lived on that ranch. She'd loved the man who'd owned it.

But he'd never been home for her.

She stood in the shower listening.

He didn't disappoint her.

She'd trade Colorado if he'd take her with him

Closes the door before the winter lets the cold in,

And wonders if her love is strong enough to make him stay,

She's answered by the tail lights

Shining through the window pane

Her hand flattened to the door. Her heart flattened to the floor.

He said I wanna see you again

But I'm stuck in colder weather

Maybe tomorrow will be better

Can I call you then

She said you're ramblin' man

You ain't ever gonna change

You gotta gypsy soul to blame

And you were born for leavin'

"He's so lonely, Rebecca. Aren't you lonely?"

She was. But not for anyone.

She was lonely for him.

Well it's a winding road

When you're in the lost and found

You're a lover I'm a runner

We go 'round 'n 'round

And I love you but I leave you

I don't want you but I need you

You know it's you who calls me back here

Her heart was hammering now. In her chest.

"Find your truth, Rebecca."

When I close my eyes I see you

No matter where I am
I can smell your perfume through these whispering pines
I'm with your ghost again
It's a shame about the weather
I know soon we'll be together
And I can't wait 'til then
I can't wait 'til then

What was her truth?

She'd loved Leon Kennedy.

She loved his daughter.

She didn't love his life.

It wasn't for her. What did that mean? That his life wasn't for her?

Would it have been with him in it?

A scary truth was to say no. No. If he'd lived, she'd have come to enjoy living on that ranch with him. But she'd never feel at home.

What did it mean that her life was here, with this ragtag group of weirdos, like gypsies on the road with no real place to call home? What did mean that her home...was wherever Chris Redfield was?

She didn't know. She only knew that she was tired of trying to find answers. She just wanted to find her truth.

And her truth wanted her to stop thinking...and just live.

Her hand shook. But she turned the knob.

She pushed into the room.

And went to find her truth.

There was a moment when one of them could have said something. Or should have said something.

He didn't have the guitar.

He did, however, have his pistol aimed at her where she stood.

The television was muted by on the news. Some kind of war footage in the middle east somewhere. No more wars, she thought, no more lives torn apart.

It was enough of that.

He kept the pistol on her longer than he should have, honestly. It was almost amusing. Would he shoot her, she wondered, for encroaching into his fortress of solitude?

She shifted away from the closed door. He was still filthy. Shirtless and filthy in dirty fatigues. And he held a gun on her and stood between her and her baby like a shield.

"My shield against the world." Claire had said. "He's my greatest protector."

And now Faith's.

And hers.

Her brows lifted at the gun between them. He actually looked slightly embarrassed to be still be holding it.

He set it on the top of the wardrobe where Faith couldn't reach it.

His hand shook a little and made her heart race with it.

He said, quietly, "I should have gone back to my own room."

Rebecca shook her head. Her heart hammered, her voice was shaky, "I don't want you to leave."

She hooked a hand into the waistband of his dirty pants and pulled him forward.

Ten seconds.

The amount of time she spent kissing Chris Redfield in her hotel room.

His hands didn't touch her. She went up on tiptoe to reach him. She cupped the back of his neck to bring him down.

And he didn't stop her either.

Ten seconds.

A good amount of time to find out your truth.

No touching. No hands. He kept those at his sides. She breathed, against his frozen mouth, "He's not here. We are. We're here, Chris. Kiss me back."

His hand lowered. It cupped her face, not easily, rough. His fingers rubbed the back of her neck and tilted her up to him. He scanned her face. She showed him everything she could on it.

Everything she had.

He kissed her, testing, eyes open. She opened her mouth for his tongue. He was hardly touching her.

His mouth wasn't nearly as polite.

It was alot of teeth. Alot of tongue. Alot of wet lips and breathing.

She let go of his neck. She let go of his pants.

She kept hold of something else inside of him.

And she said, "It's good to be home, Chris. I missed you guys."

There. Plural. Like his had been.

Plural.

Her face was smeared with soot now too. She smiled. She stroked a thumb over the inside of his wrist and felt his racing pulse.

"...you're really, really disgusting...really gross..."

He let go of her face. She stepped back and climbed on her bed.

He moved passed without a word. He went right into her bathroom and shut the door...and she heard him laugh.

She pressed her hand to mouth to stifle her own.

It felt so good to laugh and to feel like, just maybe, she was finally finding out where she was supposed to be.

He hadn't gone back to his own room. He hadn't gone back there.

The clock above the bed bonged the hour and Rebecca put a pillow on her face to smother the nervous laughter.