Page 77 of Escape

Things were improving drastically. In the physical sense, I felt like I was mostly back to normal. My shoulder was obviously still a problem, particularly when it came to my range of motion, but nearly everything else was better. The cuts had healed and almost all the bruising had faded. Sometimes, if I moved too quickly, my ribs would ache. But for the most part, with each day that passed, my body felt stronger.

Ever since I’d started going to therapy, I hadn’t had another nightmare. Of course, I wasn’t going to be overconfident about it. I didn’t believe I’d been magically cured from two appointments; I knew it didn’t work like that.

But for now, I was going to take the small wins as I got them. And going a few days without having a nightmare felt like a win.

This morning, I was excited about celebrating another victory. I’d woken up before Huck.

I walked out of the guest bedroom shortly after my eyes popped open and saw that his door was still partially closed—an indication he hadn’t gotten up yet. For a brief moment, I stood there, staring at it while it beckoned me forward.

Just a peek.

Just one little peek of Huck asleep in his bed.

That was all I’d wanted.

Sure, I’d seen him sleeping beside me when he’d come into the guest room on the nights when I’d had nightmares. But I thought it would be different to see him in his bed.

Somehow, despite the pull I felt to have a look in his room, I refrained. I didn’t need anything else messing with my head right now.

So, as quietly as I could, I crept down the hall in the opposite direction and descended the stairs to find I hadn’t been wrong in my assumption.

I was the only one awake, and the thought thrilled me for two reasons.

First, waking up at the time I used to wake up only reinforced the notion that I was truly on the mend. Regardless of the long road I still had ahead of me, things were returning to normal. Or, well, the new normal.

But the other reason I was so happy to have woken up before Huck was because I finally had the opportunity to do something I’d been wanting to do for a while now.

I could make breakfast for him. Since this felt like an extra special occasion, I didn’t want to do the typical eggs, bacon, and toast. I wanted this to be my opportunity to show my appreciation to Huck for all that he’d been doing for me over the last couple of weeks.

So, I decided to take stock of what he had in his kitchen. I perused the refrigerator, scanned the pantry, and ultimately realized he had all the ingredients I needed to be able to make him German pancakes.

I pulled everything out—doing it as quietly as I could—pre-heated the oven, then got to work. It didn’t matter that Huck didn’t have a mixer on hand, because he had a blender, and I’d always prepared my German pancake batter in the blender. Obviously, I’d been worried about the noise I’d make, but there was no other option if I was going to follow through on my plan.

A moment later, I had poured the batter into the baking dish, something I’d started using instead of the cast iron pan because it always turned out better for me that way. It was likely user error that I was never successful with the cast iron pan.

Once I’d popped the baking dish into the oven, I went about cleaning up the mess I’d made. That quickly turned into me taking on additional cleaning tasks. I emptied the clean dishwasher, put new ones in, and started sweeping up the floor while I waited.

I was in the middle of doing that, my head down as I focused on the floor, when Huck’s voice, sounding less than amused, made me freeze. “What are you doing?”

My head shot up, my eyes locking on his, and my grip on the broom handle tightened. Slowly, I took two steps back from him, unable to miss the way his eyes narrowed, and quietly replied, “I put breakfast in the oven and decided to clean up.”

He stepped forward until he came to a stop a foot or two in front of me. His hand curled around the broom handle. My throat felt like it was closing up, but I had to fix this.

“Please,” I begged, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? Why do you look so terrified? Josie, honey, relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice so soft and tender.

Huck.

This was Huck.

What had I been thinking?

My bottom lip trembled as I lost purchase on the broom. Huck took it from my hands as he wrapped his free arm around me so he could tuck me tight to his body. I easily went, quickly dropping my head to the center of his chest.

He must have set the broom aside, because it was barely two seconds later when I felt his other hand in my hair. I took several deep breaths to settle my nerves. Huck held me throughout, the soothing sound of his voice offering me the reassurance I needed.

When I got a handle on my emotions, I tipped my chin up and lamented, “I’m sorry. It’s just… it always seemed to start in the kitchen. And when you asked me what I was doing with that look on your face, I guess I assumed the worst.”