“I kissed you because I wanted to.” He grunts and heaves against the downed tree.
I spring back up and push alongside him. He glares.
“Seriously?” I say. Suddenly it’s budging. Moving. Together we get it out of the way.
He gazes at me like that was something so amazing, us working together to move that thing. The moment feels poignant, somehow.
I raise my hand. “High-five.”
He stares at my hand.
“We’re supposed to slap hands together. It’s a thing you do with somebody at a moment like this. Like, job well done, dude! High-five!”
“Let’s go.”
I leave my hand up there, waiting. I don’t know why. I’m all turned around, and I want one thing to feel regular. “Come on, Kiro.”
He grabs my hand and closes his fingers around mine.
“We’ll work on it.” I nod at his shoulder. “Now you’re going to let me re-dress that wound, and we’ll be off.”
He grumbles, but I can tell by the tone of it that he’ll consent.
Back in the vehicle, I pull the old dressing off and clean the fuck out of the wound. He doesn’t react to the pain, as usual.
“You need to pay attention to this shoulder. It’s not bad, but it could get bad. There’s a big bottle of rubbing alcohol in the packs, plus sealed packets of anti-bac stuff and more tape and bandages. It’s a really nice kit I put together for you.”
“You’ll care for my shoulder.”
“I’m talking about when I’m no longer with you. After we get you home.”
He grunts. For once I can’t read his grunt.
Soon enough, we’re back on the road. I try to go back to sleep, but I can’t. A while later, Kiro stops the truck again. The terrain ahead looks extra wild and rough.
I watch him through slit eyes. His nostrils move in a way that tells me he’s experiencing intense emotion. He eases the door open quietly, slowly, as if not to wake me.
I stay, letting him have this moment alone.
Kiro goes to a tree, touches it. Even in the darkness, away from the shine of the headlights, I can see his huge frame rise and fall.
He falls to his knees.
Sobbing or laughing or maybe just breathing really hard—it makes no difference. It’s happiness.
He’s home.
How long did he dream of this? Strapped to a bed in that horrible place.
I think, vaguely, that this could be the hook. On instinct I shove the battery back into the phone, fit the back on, and fire it up. Then I pause.
I can’t do it.
I don’t have to document every moment. I shouldn’t even be watching.
I force myself to look down at my phone. This is Kiro’s moment. His alone.
I take it off airplane mode, just to check, and I’m surprised I still have a signal. Barely, but I have it.