As she’d asked, we found a place to practice that day and those thirty minutes proved how inefficiently we worked as a team and as a pack. Isabelle pointed out every flaw and mistake, irritating Emmitt the most. In the end, though, it was Isabelle who closed herself in the car and stewed until we reached our lunch stop.
When she turned away from the menu board, I caught her hand.
“What can I order for you?” I asked.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, tugging her hand from me.
She ducked into the bathroom, and Bethi was quick to follow her.
“Is she still mad at us?” Michelle asked.
“I don’t think her anger has a specific target,” Grey said.
I didn’t think so, either.
Bethi exited the bathroom and joined Luke. I could smell her irritation.
“She needs to eat,” she said, meeting my gaze.
“I know.” Yet, I didn’t want to force her.
When it was my turn to order, I ordered a lot. In the few meals we’d shared before Ethan passed, she’d never shown preference for a specific drink. She’d requested water and soda on different occasions. So I ordered a selection and did the same with the food.
I had the food and drinks in my hands by the time she finally stepped out of the bathroom. Everyone else had already gotten their food and returned to their vehicles.
“Thirsty?” she asked, scrutinizing the drink carrier in my hand.
I shrugged and moved to the exit, standing to hold the door open for her. The smell of her hair teased me as she squeezed past.
Outside, I opened the car door for her and passed her the drinks and food once she was in. I caught her looking at the chocolate shake after I closed the door.
“I got it for you,” I said as I slid behind the wheel.
“Thanks.” She set the food on the floor and put the chocolate shake in her cup holder.
“Which one do you want first? Soda, water, or vanilla shake?” she asked.
“The shake.” I started the car and pulled out to follow Winifred.
She put the drink in my cup holder then leaned to put the drink carrier on the floor behind my seat.
“Want your food?” she asked as she straightened.
“Not yet. Help yourself.”
She ignored the bag, took a few sips of her shake, then curled up and watched out the window. She didn’t sleep or cry, just stared out at the passing scenery. I let her be, hoping the mouthwatering smell of the food would convince her to eat soon.
She still hadn’t eaten when I pulled over for the second practice stop, which didn’t go any better than the first. Although Gabby and Charlene were getting better at calling out the direction of the attack, their Mates were too quick to break the circle to protect them.
Bethi’s frustration echoed Isabelle’s when we left the field to continue the drive. They both understood that the weakest members of our group ran the risk of dying, just like Ethan.
Isabelle stayed curled on her seat as the sun began to set, then she turned toward me.
“Can I lean against you?” she asked softly.
An ache grew in my chest. I knew she was using me as a substitute, and it hurt a hell of a lot more than I thought it would. Yet, I couldn’t deny her anything.
“Yes.”
She shifted in her seat, inching closer, and set her head on my shoulder. The simple contact set my heart racing. I wanted to hold her in my arms and hug her close. Instead, my hands were filled with steering wheel.
She sighed heavily and relaxed. Not long after, she slept.
Well after midnight, we stopped at a hotel. I eased Isabelle off my shoulder then went around the car to lift her from her seat. It felt so right to have her in my arms with her cheek against my chest.
She opened her eyes and looked up at me. Her red hair glinted in the streetlights, and her freckles stood out even more on her pale skin. I held her closer.
“Go back to sleep. I have you.”
She sighed and closed her eyes again as I carried her inside. Grey held the door for me and unlocked our room.
“We’ll see you in the morning. Gabby says the way is clear, and we should be fine. She’s waking every hour to check, though.”
I nodded and set Isabelle on the bed then took the bags and room key from Grey.
After he left, I removed her socks and shoes and tucked her under the covers. Before I joined her, I put her things in the bathroom so they’d be ready if she needed them. Her tiny bottle of conditioner was almost empty. I would need to see if one of the other women had some for her.
With nothing else to do, I lay down on the second bed.
****
The change in her breathing woke me. The sun was up and fighting valiantly to find its way through the hotel curtains.
Rustling noises filled the room as Isabelle moved. I rolled over and found her watching me.
“Where’d Grey sleep?” she asked.
“With Jim, I think.” I hadn’t asked.
“How long have we been here?”
“Since two. About six hours.”
“Anyone else awake?”
“No.” If they were, they’d kept quiet about it. “How do you feel?” I asked.
It had been days since Ethan died. Days of soaking up emotions of those around her. I worried about what Bethi had meant when she’d asked Isabelle about her insides.
“Fine,” Isabelle answered.
“I know you’re not fine. It’s been days since you sparred with anyone. You should—”
“No.”
I inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, struggling to be patient with her. It was hard when she was risking her health.
“All right. Are you hungry?”
She shrugged.
“Get dressed,” I said, sitting up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I didn’t go anywhere, but stood in the hall to give her some solitude. From inside, I heard the toilet flush and the water run. When she stepped out, she had her socks and shoes on and her hair was brushed and back in its pony tail. Her bruises were starting to lighten and the scabs starting to pull away. Even damaged, she was a tempting sight.
“Good morning, Isabelle,” I said softly, needing to hear her greet me as if she was glad to see me.
“Good morning.”
It wasn’t as welcoming as I would have liked, but she’d held my gaze when she said it. For now, it was enough.
She followed me down the hall to the lobby. There wasn’t much, but the waffle maker, three steamer trays, and a clear display of muffins and mini-bagels would be enough to get us back on the road until our next stop.
I went to the steamers and lifted the first lid. She picked up a plate and held it out as her stomach rumbled. I scooped a helping of eggs onto it and lifted the next lid. She nodded at the bacon, and I set three pieces on her plate before moving to the final lid.
“I’d rather have a waffle,” she said, declining the French toast.
“I’ll start it for you. Sit down and eat.”
I brought her a cup of milk then went back to start the waffle and fill my own plate. When I joined her, she hadn’t yet taken a bite. However, when I sat, she picked up her fork. She’d been waiting for me. Warmth spread in my middle as I watched her put the first bite of eggs in her mouth and chew with growing awareness. She worked her way through her eggs before setting her fork aside and eating the bacon. Again, I noticed she never moved on to the next food until the first was finished. There was no mixing.
The waffle maker beeped, and I went to retrieve her food. With a handful of syrup containers, I returned to our table.
She took the plate, drowned the waffle in syrup, and took a bite. I ate, less interested in my own food than the way she consumed hers.
Just before she took her last bite, Clay, Gabby, Emmitt, Michelle, and Jim came in.
“I smell pancakes,” Jim said. He looked at us for confirmation.
“Waffles,” Isabelle said. It was the first time she’d voluntarily spoken to anyone outside of our stops for fighting.
“Just as good.” Jim playfully pushed Emmitt out of the way to get to the waffle maker first.
Finished eating, I took our plates to the trash.
“We’re supposed to meet in room 237 at ten,” Emmitt said.
I nodded, threw our plates in the garbage, and started toward the exercise room. Isabelle quietly followed me. She must not have been paying attention because when I stepped inside, she seemed surprised. And upset.
“No.”
She moved for the door, but I darted around her and blocked her retreat.
“Yes.”
She narrowed her eyes at me.
“I don’t feel like it.”
“Just five minutes.”
“No.”
I wanted to give her more time, but I was too worried. Before Ethan’s death, she’d sparred twice a day. A night in a hotel had filled her up, requiring a morning spar or jog. And a daylong car ride had done the same. She needed to spar. The problem was that her grief was masking the buildup. She needed to feel something else.
Keep everyone away from the exercise room, I sent Grey.
Good luck, he sent back.
Stepping away from the door, I stalked her. Her expression changed from stubborn to wary.
“No,” she said again.
I didn’t stop, and for each step I took forward, she retreated back one until there wasn’t anywhere else for her to go. She stood with her back to the far wall, and I stepped so close I could see her freckles through the bruising.
“I don’t want to spar.”
“I know,” I said gently. But, I also knew how to make her want to.
Lifting my hands slowly, I gave her time to understand what I meant to do. Her pulse jumped as my palms settled on her shoulders. Her skin felt smooth and soft under the left hand, but her right was still marked.
I brushed my thumbs over her flesh. A spike of anger made the green of her eyes more vivid.
“Back off, Carlos.”
“No.”
She brought her arms up, breaking the contact as my thumbs smoothed over her collarbones.
“Got a problem?” I asked.
“Yeah. You.”
I didn’t let her words hurt me.
“I’m not your problem, Isabelle.”
She lifted a fisted hand and threw a jab at my right shoulder. It was slow and awkward and weak. Not because she was physically unable to move like she had, but because she was remembering Ethan. I smelled her grief a moment before her eyes started to tear.
“You don’t need to baby me, Isabelle.”
“Shut up and finish what you started.”