Page 11 of Defying Ella
Would we have signal right now?
Deal with it later. Survive now.
I paused in the centre of the open plan space, my gaze running over every available door.
Where is the firewood?
When I arrived, there was a basket full of kindling and firewood in the living area. I hadn’t needed to search for it. Surely, that wasn’t all of it.
I dashed out of the room, past Jared pulling at his hair and skipped down the stairs just fast enough to not trip myself up.
Ten doors later, I found the storage room. The panicked breath trapped in my lungs whooshed out of me. Okay, so if the worst happened, we’d have heat, food and water. I might not have my sanity but at least I’d live. In theory.
I returned to the main floor with a much greater sense of calm. It wasn’t all doom and gloom.
With nothing else to distract me, I focused on Jared’s state of mind again. He’d returned to sitting on a breakfast stool, his head bowed while his foot bounced on the crossbar. His hands dragged through his hair, tugging every now and again while he muttered to himself.
It was a jarring sight. He’d morphed from sleek confidence to deranged in a matter of hours. Freaky.
I hesitated, chewing on my lip while I tried to find a way to ignore him. My gaze shifted to the sofa and my waiting book. I could light the fire, curl up with my current read and pretend none of it was happening. I could make it work. My mother always said I was too good at make-believe.
He didn’t want my attention anyway. He’d made that perfectly clear.
Yet guilt swamped me.
Argh.
“You’re still acting weird, so I’m going to ask one more time and then I’ll go back to ignoring you.” I strode towards him, forcing a strength I didn’t feel into my voice and walk the closer I got to him. “Are you alright?”
“Fine,” he muttered almost too low for me to hear him.
I pursed my lips, lifting my eyes to the ceiling imploringly.
I’d asked, right?
He said he was fine. Again. I could go about my day without guilt now.
If only that were remotely true. I didn’t believe him and I might be great at make-believe but I wasn’t great at ignoring other people’s emotions. Stupid empathetic traits.
“You don’t need to pretend in front of me.” My hand hovered above his shoulder, resisting my instincts to rub his back.
I curled my fingers in on themselves, clenching so tight my nails dug into the palm of my hand.He’s not Phoebe, you idiot.You hate him and he just bit your head off over spilt tea.I withdrew the hand before he could even notice, but I didn’t retreat. Unfortunately, I couldn’t reason my way into that one no matter how much I despised sharing air with him.
“I’ve checked the supplies and we’ll be fine until someone rescues us.”
What should have been a reassuring statement had the exact opposite effect. His entire body stiffened as he lifted his head.
A wolf scenting prey.
Stop with the weird analogies, Ella. It doesn’t help.
One day, I’d learn to not bother trying with him. One day, I’d protect myself before him.
His hands fell from his hair and he turned towards me. The panic faded before my eyes. He hadn’t opened his mouth and my body knew what was coming, tensing for the verbal blows.
“I still don’t need you to take care of me, Ella.” His gaze trailed up and down my body. His nostrils flared and his green eyes glazed over with heat for a second before his disinterested mask slipped back into place.
Bastard. I’d never actually tried. I’d offered him painkillers when he got a headache once on tour but that hardly counted. Cleaning up the spill definitely didn’t, that had been all for Andy.
