Page 52 of A Second Dawn
Fire spreads through my veins. I turn away from both of them, not wanting them to see.
When I look up again, Ade raises a curious eyebrow at me, and Claudette smirks.
We’ve been driving all day, taking turns.
Whenever I’m behind the wheel, the sheer size and power of the RV makes me feel like the captain of a ship. I’m commanding a vessel that’s taking me away from danger mile by mile.
It probably sounds silly, but its commanding presence instils a sense of confidence and empowerment within me. Unless I’m getting tired… like I am now.
It’s pitch-black outside with no glimmer of moonlight or stars. The vast expanse around us seems to merge with the blackness above. Thick, heavy clouds loom ominously in the sky.
“Take this dirt road to the left,” Aiden suggests, standing behind my seat, his gaze fixed on the sky.
The first raindrops hit the windscreen and roof. They create a soothing pitter-patter rhythm. It’s deceptive though. A torrential downpour is imminent.
“Let’s just pull over and camp here for the night,” I say when I spot a grassy clearing.
“Sounds good. It’s late anyway,” Ade replies, rubbing my shoulders.
The gesture is meant to comfort, but has the opposite effect. I look up at him, expecting to find his burning eyes on me as always, but not this time. They’re still glued to the sky.
A light sheen of sweat coats his forehead. His expression doesn’t give anything away, but it’s like I can feel his apprehension, and it’s growing the more the rain hits.
“Let’s just go to bed and sleep through this,” he grits out, turning away to walk the few steps to the sofa while I park and turn off the engine.
I draw the blinds on the windscreen. They’re fantastic, blocking any light from coming in. Not that there is any at the moment. But it might help us sleep in tomorrow. With what the clouds are about to unleash outside, sleep might be hard to come by.
I climb in the back and help Ade unfold the sofa to make up his bed. Claudette has picked up on Aiden’s strange mood too and hands him a glass of water, before giving one to me.
I watch him carefully, as he takes a sip. It’s clear the weather is triggering anxiety in him, and I’m not sure how to help him. Judging from the closed off expression on his face, he doesn’t want anyone near.
His gaze meets mine and falls to the glass of water in my hands. It seems to shake him out of his fog, and he squeezes past me to find his bag.
He reaches inside, retrieving a brown medicine bottle, its contents clinking as he shakes it. With a shy glance, he extends his hand, offering it to me.
“I picked these up for you,” he says with a small smile.
As I take it, my eyes trace the label.
Pregnancy vitamins.
Thud, thud, thud,goes my heart loudly in my chest.
He really does care for me and this baby. He’s so thoughtful.
Tears sting my eyes. Argh, stupid pregnancy hormones. I hate being so emotional.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I hold my arms open. I think we both could do with a hug.
Not a second later, his arms snake around me and I bury my face in his shoulder, breathing in his masculine alpine scent.
Oh my.
And I can’t help my body’s reaction. His heat sears through my clothes and into the pit of my stomach, swirling and twirling, and making me all too aware of the electricity zapping between us.
I’m snapped out of this moment with him by the humming of an electric motor. Peeking over Ade’s shoulder, I watch as Claudette holds down the button for our bed to descend from the ceiling of the RV.
Our little home is nifty like that, and the mattress is so comfortable. It’s just a shame I have to share this bed with Claudette. I would so love to sprawl out on it… or share it with Aiden. But I’m not going there.