That was the change she wanted to make. More laughter, like normal people had in their lives.

She stepped behind him and helped him to his feet. She was shocked at how much more weight he’d lost.

“Dammit, Zach, you haven’t been eating. How can you expect to get well?”

“You ever eat when you’re in the hospital?”

She thought about her brief stays for various injuries. “Not really.”

“I feel the same way about their food.”

It was their first civil verbal exchange in seven years. She told herself not to read too much into it, but she couldn’t help feeling relieved. Zach could make her stay pleasant or he could turn it into several weeks of hell. She hoped he chose the former.

She bent down and grabbed the cane, then looped his right arm over her shoulders and wrapped her left around his waist. Moving in slow, steady steps, she helped him into the cabin.

Once there, she moved him toward the large bedroom. She’d already pulled down the covers.

Zach sat heavily on the mattress and glared at her. “I want you out of here.”

So much for civil exchanges. Guess he wanted to make her as miserable as possible. Two could play that game. After all, she’d had a great teacher. “Yeah, right. You’re in no condition to take care of yourself.”

“I don’t need you or anyone.”

“Probably not, but you’re stuck with me.” She knelt on the floor and pulled off his boots.

“You’re just like every other woman. Butting in where you’re not wanted.”

She ignored the sting his words produced. How ironic that he thought she was just like other women. She wasn’t like them, but she was doing her best to learn what they already knew. She wanted to understand what it was like to feel pretty, or take pride in preparing a meal, or keeping a house. Maybe she would get brave enough to consider having a child.

She shook her head. A child wasn’t likely. She wouldn’t trust herself to have one on her own. What did she know about being maternal? And no man had ever wanted her enough to commit.

She set the boots in the closet, then turned back to Zach. He was staring at her. She wished she could think of something witty to say, but her mind was blank. She could only stare at his handsome face and wish things had been different. If only he’d welcomed her back into his life. They could have healed together, him on the outside, her on the inside. Instead, they were to be adversaries.

She was about to concede defeat when something flickered to life in his eyes. Just as it had outside. She wasn’t sure if it was longing, or maybe pain. A need for connection. He blinked, and the emotions were gone. But she’d seen them.

“Sorry, Zach, you can complain all you want, but I’m staying.” She moved toward the door and paused there. “You should be grateful I’m willing to look after you. No one else wants to, and you would never have made it on your own.”

“I like being alone. I’m perfectly capable of surviving without help.”

He might like being alone, but she’d grown tired of the solitude. “You can whine all you want,” she said. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then I’ll take your car and leave myself.”

She smiled. “No problem. First you have to find the strength to get to my car. I don’t suppose that’s going to happen today.”

He curled his hands into fists. “Dammit, Jamie, I won’t put up with this.”

“What are you going to do about it? Try to beat me at arm wrestling? Face it, Zach, you don’t have a choice. You need watching, and I’m the only one here. It doesn’t have to be awful, you know. We could try to be friends.” When he didn’t answer, she shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m going to make you some lunch. Don’t go anywhere.”

Unintelligible curses followed her out of the room. Oddly his temper lightened her spirits. If he had the energy to resent her, he had the energy to heal.

Once in the kitchen, she opened a can of soup and poured it into a pot. After putting the butane flame on low, she grabbed a crescent wrench from the toolbox by the back door. Then she pulled a large green trash bag out of the box in the pantry and headed outside.

Ten minutes later, she wrapped the Bronco battery in plastic and set it into a shallow hole in the ground. She covered it up, then smoothed leaves in place. When she stepped back to survey her handiwork, she was pleased. No one would know that she’d buried something here. She glanced at the vehicle as she walked back to the house. Zach might want to leave, but he wasn’t going anywhere without her knowing about it first.

On her way to the kitchen, she poked her head into his bedroom. He’d collapsed on the bed and was sound asleep. Even resting, the lines of pain still bracketed his mouth. He shouldn’t have been traveling, but he was a stubborn man. Fortunately for both of them, she was just as stubborn. She paused long enough to pull the blankets over him and smooth the hair off his forehead. Then she went into the kitchen and turned off the soup.

Zach opened his eyes and tried to peer into the darkness. He couldn’t figure out where he was. For one horrifying heartbeat, he thought he might be back in his cell and the events of the past couple of weeks had just been a soul-destroying dream.

He sucked in a breath, held it, then relaxed. He inhaled again, smelling the mustiness of the room and the biting scent of trees beyond the walls. He knew this place. The cabin. Another breath brought an elusive scent…something he couldn’t quite place, something-

Jamie.

Memories crashed in on him like a collapsing building. He ducked to avoid them, but there was no escape. He remembered it all. The rescue, his time in the hospital, Jamie coming to visit him and him throwing her out. The argument he’d had with the doctor when he’d wanted to check out early. The difficulty traveling to the cabin. His relief at finding Jamie waiting for him. His anger at finding her waiting for him.

“You are one confused son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself, and slowly sat up. He immediately felt better. He was weak, but healing. Pain throbbed from every inch of his body.

He had pills in his bags. Where the hell were his bags?

He reached for the lamp on the nightstand. He might like isolation, but he didn’t want to be without electricity. The lamp clicked on, filling the room with soft light.

The first thing he noticed was the blanket draped neatly over him. He didn’t remember falling asleep and he was reasonably sure he hadn’t taken the time to cover himself. Which meant Jamie had done it. What had she thought while she watched him sleep? She probably hated him, which wasn’t a bad thing. She should hate him. Lord knew, he hated himself.

He allowed himself to experience very few emotions these days, but self-loathing was one of them. He’d lost any of the positive ones years ago.

He threw back the blankets and got to his feet. His cane rested against the nightstand, but he ignored it. He wanted to make it on his own.

By using the wall for support and balance, he slowly walked into the kitchen. A pot sat on the stove. When he lifted the lid, he could smell the soup. Some freshly baked rolls sat on the counter next to his neatly lined-up pills and a glass of water. His zipped duffel bags were on the kitchen table.

Jamie had obviously gone through his stuff. The idea should have annoyed him, but he didn’t mind. Which meant he was in more trouble than he’d first suspected.

His stomach growled. For the first time since the rescue, he was hungry. He ate standing up, leaning against the counter and not bothering to reheat the soup. He finished the whole pot and two rolls, then downed his pills. He wouldn’t mind a drink, but figured he was in no condition to wrestle with a hangover. Not to mention the problem of combining alcohol with prescription medication. Better to face the world sober, he decided.

He glanced at the clock on the stove. Nearly one. He’d been asleep for fourteen hours. No wonder he felt better. He probably should head back to bed, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not at night.

Without considering the consequences of his action, he made his way through the front door and onto the porch.

He knew instantly Jamie was already out there. He almost apologized for invading her space, then reminded himself that it was his cabin.

The night was still, the sky clear and dark. The stars seemed low enough to touch. It took a couple of minutes for his eyes to adjust, then he saw Jamie sitting in a corner of the swing.

“It’s near freezing,” she said by way of greeting. “Did you bring a blanket?”

“No.” He inhaled the frigid air and felt invigorated.

“Sit down. I’ll get it.”

She stood up and walked past him. He used the front wall of the house for support and limped to the chair sitting at right angles to the swing. By the time she returned, his teeth were chattering.

She’d brought a blanket and a quilt. She dropped both over his shoulders, then returned to the swing.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Zach enjoyed his first night outside since he’d been captured. For a while, he hadn’t thought he would see a starry night again.

This last capture hadn’t been the first time he’d been taken prisoner. He’d been beaten, shot, stabbed and otherwise abused. But this time had been the worst. They’d come after him with chains, which was new, but he didn’t think that was the reason he was having trouble shaking the experience. Some of it was that he was getting tired of the game.

“Better than the cell,” Jamie said.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. She could read his mind, and he could read hers. She knew exactly what had happened to him back there. She knew about the pain, the nightmares, the memories.

The silence grew companionable. His breath came out in clouds, and he tried to blow smoke rings. Around them night creatures rustled and called out. He glanced at Jamie, studying her silhouette. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out individual features. She could have been seventy or seventeen. She was, in fact, thirty.