last inch of fabric with dirt and bits of leaf mold.
That task accomplished, I stepped over the suitcase and over the threshold, making a beeline for the closet. There, tucked away in the bottom of my duffel bag, lay the contract that sported my signature. My unspoken promise of devotion to Chaz and the rest of the Sunstrikers.
It took an effort not to toss it into the flames burning cheerily in the fireplace. Instead, I took it with me outside and promptly tore it into quarters, dropping the shredded fragments of paper onto the mound of muddy clothes. They stuck to the wet soil, soaking up the moisture, but the title and my unmistakable scrawl were still clear enough that Chaz wouldn’t miss what he’d given up once he returned from the forest.
I spent the next hour or so feeding Kimberly’s clothing, piece by piece, into the flames. She’d probably end up borrowing clothes from one of the other Sunstrikers, but doing this gave me a sense of deep, abiding satisfaction anyway.
After the last piece was eaten up by the fire, I sat on the edge of the bed for most of the night, watching the bloated moon creep toward the horizon and the stars fade into day.
In the predawn light, Chaz stalked out of the forest, pausing in the clearing before the cabin. Despite my haze of anger, he still looked magnificent, a golden god of the forest prowling in glorious, unabashed nakedness through the last tendrils of mist fading in the gentle rays of morning sun. I watched through the window, though I made no move to get up to confront him. Particularly when Kimberly leapt with the grace of a doe out into the sun, every bit the creature of the woods that Chaz was. A hot flare of jealousy beat in my breast as she pressed a hand to his bare back. The other hand swept her enviably straight blond hair back in a casual gesture that only served to set every hated, perfectly shaped asset she had to jiggling in ways that would have sparked envy if I hadn’t been shaking with fury.
He wasn’t paying her any mind, though. In the space of a few seconds, his expression shifted from wariness to surprise to anger to chagrin as he spotted the pile of ruined clothes and the torn shreds of the contract that would have bound me to him, body, mind, heart, and soul.
He slowly knelt down to pick up the damp pages, running his fingers over them. I watched as he clenched the fragments in his fists. He turned away before I could get a good look, but I thought I detected a glitter in his eyes that looked suspiciously like tears.
He was gone before long, taking the soggy mess of clothing with him. She followed, saying something I couldn’t hear. The two were no doubt off to seek consolation from each other in privacy.
Some of the other Sunstrikers wandered by on their way to their cabins, looking tired and worn. Though I might have admired the lean bodies or been embarrassed by the nudity before this last hellish night, there was nothing left of me to be moved by the sight. Instead I sat dry-eyed, fingertips of the opposite hand playing over the tiny ridges of scabs on my left bicep.
Dillon was among those to pass by my cabin. He flashed me a vicious grin when he spotted me in the window. I didn’t give him the benefit of a reaction. His grin soon wavered as he found himself unable to meet my unflinching gaze.
There would be a reckoning between us, I was sure. It would come as soon as I made up my mind whether I wanted to carry out that revenge myself or let the law do it for me; either way, he wouldn’t survive it.
My unkind thoughts were disrupted by the sound of a woman’s angry scream echoing across the valley. Kimberly discovering her things were missing, no doubt. I didn’t bother to investigate, as some of the others outside were rushing off to do.
Some time later it dawned on me as I watched some of the Sunstrikers and their families wander past with bags and suitcases that I would need to figure out how to get home.
I had no cell phone to call Sara. Even after I cleaned the soda off the battery, Arnold’s computer wouldn’t boot up. The cost of a cab back to the city was far