"About last night,” I began, sitting up and feeling a dull headache roll across my skull. With a shock, I realized I was experiencing my first hangover. Mild, but undeniably a hangover. If there was a silver lining, it was that my dad couldn't see how severely I'd disappointed him. Unfortunately, I couldn't spare myself the same humiliation.
Pretending to be deeply interested in lacing my boots, I kept my eyes steadfastly on my feet, avoiding Jude's direct gaze. "What we did was stupid, obviously. A mistake."A colossal mistake. "I had too much to drink, and I wasn't thinking. I wish I could take it back."
Jude made no comment.
"I was half passed out when we . . . did what we did. I hardly remember what happened." If only it were true. In reality, my memory tormented me with a perfectly scripted blow-by-blow. "Whatever happened between us, I didn't mean it. The real me didn't do those things, I mean."
When Jude still didn't respond, I stole a nervous glance in his direction. The careful, evaluating manner in which he watched me made it hard to read him. I was sure he felt the same way. Didn't he? There were so many things I wanted to ask him, but I stopped myself. I wasn't going to dig for a way to rationalize my behavior. It didn't matter what Jude thought. What I did was wrong, period. And he was the worst possible person I could have made such a grave mistake with.
Jude sat up and stretched, languid as a cat. He rolled onto his knees, belted his jeans, and cast me a sly look. "How long did it take you to come up with that speech?"
I frowned. "It wasn't a speech. It was impromptu.”
”Good. That explains why it sucked."
"Sucked? Excuse me?"
"You weren't drunk, Britt. You had a buzz, sure, but don't forget I took my half of the bottle. I'll try not to take offense that you think I'd impose myself on you while you were drunk. And if that's how you kiss when you're drunk, I can't wait to see what you kiss like when your mind is fully present."
I stared at him, mouth ajar. I didn't know how to respond. Was he teasing me? At a time like this?
"When was the last time you were kissed?" he went on easily. "And I'm not talking about the dry, noncommittal, meaningless kiss you forget about as soon as it's over."
I scrambled out of my stupor long enough to quip, "Like last night's kiss?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "That so? I wonder, then, why you moaned my name after you drifted to sleep."
"I did not!"
"If only I'd had a video recorder. When was the last time you were really kissed?" he repeated.
"You seriously think I'm going to tell you?" "Your ex?" he guessed.
"And if he was?"
"Was it your ex who taught you to be ashamed and uncomfortable with intimacy? He took from you what he wanted, but never seemed to be around when you wanted something back, isn't that right? What do you want, Britt?" he asked me point-blank. "Do you really want to pretend like last night never happened?"
"Whatever happened between me and Calvin isn't your business,” I fired back. "For your information, he was a really great boyfriend. I-I wish I was with him right now!" I exclaimed untruthfully.
My careless comment made him flinch, but he recovered quickly. "Does he love you?"
"What?" I said, flustered.
"If you know him so well, it shouldn't be a hard question. Is he in love with you? Was he ever in love with you?"
I tossed my head back haughtily. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to cut him down because you're-you're jealous of him!"
"You're damn right I'm jealous,” he growled. "When I kiss a girl, I like to know she's thinking about me, not the fool who gave her up."
I turned away, humiliated that he'd guessed the truth. I could try to deny it, but he'd see right through me. The air between us felt charged and thick, and I sat there, hating him for making me feel guilty. Hating myself for letting things go this far. There was a name for people who fell in love with their captors. This wasn't real attraction; I'd been brainwashed. I wished I could take back kissing him. I wished I could take back ever meeting him.
Jude tied his bootlaces, yanking the knot. "I'm going to set a few traps and hopefully bring back breakfast. I shouldn't be gone more than a couple hours."
"What about the grizzly?"
"I just put two logs on the fire. He won't cross it to get to you.”
”What about-you?" I kept my voice carefully indifferent.
He flashed me a cold smile, sharp at the edges. "Worried about me?"
Because I couldn't think of anything snide to say, I stuck my tongue out at him.
Jude wagged his head. "More tongue exercises? Would have thought you'd had enough last night."
"Go to hell."
"Sorry, love, but we're already there."
Without another word, Jude strode off into the snowy forest.
After Jude left, I decided to inventory our resources. The project would occupy my mind and keep me from analyzing my kiss with Jude. I did not want to figure out how I really felt about him. I did not want to admit that I might be in over my head.
We had a day's hike to Idlewilde, and I wanted to make sure, if a new storm rolled in or we faced some other unseen obstacle, that I knew what supplies we had. Unzipping Jude's backpack, I began organizing his belongings into three groups: bedding, food, and tools.
When I reached the bottom of the pack, I found a small canvas bag holding a few objects, but there wasn't a zipper, or any other opening that I could see. In fact, it was almost as if the bag had been entirely sewn shut. The objects' angular sides strained against the fabric, but I couldn't get to them.
It shouldn't have surprised me that Jude was hiding something-he had gone on about the importance of secrets-but when I used the pocketknife I'd stolen from the ranger patrol cabin to make a neat incision along the seam, and when I saw the contents inside, that's exactly what I was. Surprised.
No, not surprised. Shocked. Dizzy with disbelief. Sickened.
I pulled out a photograph of a girl. It was a candid shot, taken from a distance, but the girl's eyes were eerily aware. Her wide, haughty smile seemed to gloat at the camera, her eyes sizzling with contempt, as if she were mentally flipping off the entire world with a single piercing look.
Lauren Huntsman. The girl who had disappeared last April while vacationing with her parents in Jackson Hole.
Why did Jude have a picture of her? And not any picture, but one taken without her permission. It was like he'd been spying on her.
I went back to the canvas bag, this time retrieving a pair of handcuffs. My stomach soured. Why would Jude have handcuffs? I could think of an explanation. And it wasn't good.