She was smooth in his hands, her hair tangled in his fingers.
She tasted like fresh rain, like a storm rolling over the hills.
When Mac had startled awake to her car alarm, it had woken Kane as well, and he bounded from down the hall to check that everything was okay. The woman in front of him looked shattered, her hair a mess on her head, sweat at her collar.
“You okay?”
“Yeah…uh…nightmare. Go figure.”
“Yeah.”
As Mac moved back to the couch, picking up the blankets from the floor, Kane averted his gaze. It had been a long time since a woman was around.
“Want me to restart the fire? Are you cold?”
“Uh, sure. Yeah. If it’s no trouble. I can help.”
Mac stood, quick to her feet, the anxiety still pounding through her.
“You’re okay. I got it. Lay back down.”
“Okay.”
And she did. Kane busied himself with stoking a new fire, setting it up so that it could slowly burn until true morning came. The firelight caught in Mac’s hair as he struck a match and lit the kindling. Her nightmare had cut through her mask of grief and allowed Kane to see a little more of her.
Finished with the fire, Kane sat himself down on the couch.
“Your eyes,” she said.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Uh, forgot what it’s called. Two toned or whatever.”
“Heterochromia.”
“That.”
“I just noticed. Something about the fire. Light catching.”
“Yeah, it does that.”
He leaned back, his eyes heavy watching as the fire crackled, the faint scent of pine dancing in the air. Mac sat back as well.
“You can give this back to her, if she wants it.”
Mac was holding out the stuffed rabbit.
“Alice doesn’t take back gifts. It’s yours now. Though with being here when we got here, I’m guessing it was yours to begin with.”
“Fair.”
She held it back to herself, golden arms wrapped softly around it. The grief mask was taking back over, closing up her face that anxiety had so animated.
“Okay, well, if the fire needs help, just come get me. Down the hall. You know.”
“Okay. Yeah, I will.”
He got up and walked himself back to bed, the door left open a bit so he could watch the cast light glimmer down the hall. Propped up in bed, his eyes fell heavy again only to snap open at a knock on his door.
“Alice?”
His first instinct, the relative stranger not yet incorporated into his worries despite offering help shortly before.
“No, it’s me.
“The fire again? I didn’t think I was out that long. Gimme a sec.”
“It’s not the fire.”
He stared questioningly into the dark, her silhouette offering nothing back.
“What’s up then?”
She didn’t answer. She just crawled into bed next to him, her warm body against his. Her twisted mask of grief replaced by something else.