nodded back over his shoulder to where the pipe ran up the side of the house.
Right. She glanced at the still-dripping pipe and wondered if he’d stood under it naked only moments before. She swallowed. Of course he did, Harper. Who showers in their pants? “No. I mean . . . I . . . don’t think I could stand it. I’d die of cold. I’d freeze like an icicle.”
He smiled slowly, that unpracticed one that was boyish and sweet and totally at odds with his appearance. She did step back then. Away from that smile that made her stomach muscles dance.
“I’ll just wash up.”
“Okay.” He stepped around her, and she turned to watch him leave, letting out a gasp when she saw his back. He halted, turning his head.
“What happened to you?” she asked, moving closer and running her finger across a long, jagged scar that ran from his lower ribcage to the middle of his back. He had other scars on his back as well, but that one was by far the worst.
He turned toward her. “A pig. It tried to gut me.”
“A pig? One of those wild boars?” She shivered internally. She hated those things. They were crazy and unpredictable, and she’d heard awful stories about people being horribly maimed or even killed by them when they’d unexpectedly encountered one.
“He was wild. But so am I.” Something came into his eyes then, something challenging, though she wasn’t sure whether the look had to do with the memory of being attacked by the wild boar, or a warning he was issuing to her.
She raised her chin, meeting his eyes. “Clearly he didn’t get the best of you.”
He watched her for a few moments, and then he let out a breath, turning. Over his shoulder he said, “I’ll be inside.”
She stood there for a moment, watching him walk effortlessly through the snow, knowing he’d done it a thousand times, under a thousand different winter skies. Why had he made a point to comment about being wild, she wondered as she turned and made her way inexpertly to the water pump a few feet away. Was it a warning? Why? Did he want her to go because she bothered him by interrupting the way of life he’d become familiar with and had no desire to change? She thought about what he’d told her the night before. How someone had taken him from his baka and left him out there. She supposed it wasn’t much worse than what she’d already thought she understood: his parents had abandoned him to the elements. But didn’t he want answers to the questions of who and why? Who had been cruel enough to do that to a little boy? And could it be a coincidence that he’d seen the helicopters looking for her parents on the same night he’d been left out there?
She pondered on what little she knew of the mystery as she splashed frigid water on her face, letting out a sharp squeal as it hit her skin. She smoothed the water back through her hair, rinsed her mouth, and used her finger to clean her teeth as best as possible. He had a toothbrush in a cup next to the water pump, but no toothpaste. No products at all. Apparently, he hadn’t been willing to trade with Driscoll for shampoo. She used the other rustic amenities before heading back inside.
When she got to his door, she knocked, feeling uncomfortable with just opening it and letting herself inside. Jak pulled it open, now having put on the same long-sleeved shirt. She gestured over her shoulder. “It looks like a winter wonderland out there.”
He looked past her for a moment, his gaze softening. “Things aren’t always . . . the same as they look.”
She stepped inside and he closed the door. “Yes. I know. I mean, it’s beautiful, but no less harsh. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes.” He turned away.
As she was removing her coat and boots, she noticed two long, flat boards sitting against the wall in the corner. As she eyed them, she realized they had hand-made “straps.” Had he fashioned his own version of snow shoes from long pieces of wood? She was amazed. He really was . . . incredibly industrious. It was humbling to get a personal glimpse at the lengths he’d gone to to survive.
He set something in his bowl and mug on the table and Harper walked to where he stood, sitting on one of the stools.