Page 67 of The Wild Man

Since Wild Man removed the rope from my waist, I get the feeling that he now trusts me. Trusts that I won’t leave him. He’s not even concerned that I’ll try to enlist Ben’s help. It hurts me to contemplate breaking that trust.

Now I have to trust in myself and Wild Man that I’ll eventually talk him into letting me go. Not permanently. I don’t believe leaving him forever is an option for me now. He’s become too important to me. But I refuse to believe I’ll never see my family again. They’re just as important. Besides, eventually, my family will find out where we are. I’d rather head them off and go to them before they come here. Maybe I can talk Wild Man into coming with me. Introduce him into society and slowly show him the world he’s been missing.

It’s strange to imagine Wild Man wearing clothes, eating with utensils at a table, him walking the streets or driving a car. But I think if given the chance, he would enjoy those things.

I pull my thoughts from those possibilities and look back at Ben.

“Like you, I happened to be walking in the woods when I came across Wild Man,” I tell him. “Instead of leaving, I decided to stay.”

“Wild Man?”

“It’s what I call him. Seemed like it fit.”

Ben eyes me like he doesn’t believe me. I hold his stare with unblinking eyes. It doesn’t matter if there’s a lot more to the story than that, or that I’ve omitted the more gruesome details. The only thing that matters is that I won’t be utilizing him to try to escape. That I’m here now of my own free will.

“Okay, girl. If you say so,” he says.

I lift my arm and wrap it around Wild Man’s shoulders, looking at Ben. “I do.”

twenty-one

Everlee

“Come sit.” I pat the space between my legs on our pallet of blankets.

Wild Man walks over and drops to his knees, scooting toward me, a predatory look in his eyes.

I laugh. “Not for sex, you savage.”

“Fuck my momor.”

I hold my hand up and press it against his wide chest, stopping him from moving over me. “There’s time for that later.” I smile up at him as he looms over me. “Now turn around and sit.”

He gives me a sexy disgruntled look before he turns and drops to his butt. I scoot up until my legs hug him, and he lays his hands on my ankles. His long mane of blue-black hair falls down his back. It’s so thick and luscious, surprisingly healthy since he’s not taken care of it. I love running my fingers through it, but they often get tangled in the strands. I was ecstatic when Wild Man pulled out a brush from Ben’s pack.

Speaking of Ben, he left about an hour before the sun went down, which was a couple of hours ago. He told Wild Man and me that he would be back in about a month.

Would we still be here then?

Once Wild Man is settled in front of me, I pick up the length of his hair, separating it into several sections. I grab the brush and start working on the bottom first.

When I told Wild Man earlier what the brush was for, he didn’t seem surprised. One of the few memories of his mother is of him playing with her hair, so he probably remembers what it’s used for. But apparently, he never felt the desire to use one.

“You have such beautiful hair,” I say wistfully, carefully running the bristles through the strands.

“I like your hair,” he says.

I know he does because he’s always touching it. My hair is great, but his is fabulous.

“Do you want to brush mine after I’m done with yours?”

His thumbs start moving over my ankle. “Yes.”

I smile as I set the first section away and start on another.

“Ben seems like a good guy. It’s nice that he brings you things.”

“Good, yes.”