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he could not read it. He
did not know what had just happened any more than she did. He’d gotten what he
thought he wanted, Eva deciding she didn’t like him, didn’t want to “explore
this connection,” driving him away. But now that he had it, he felt only loss
and anger—at her for doing what he wanted her to and at himself for driving her
to it. It was all her fault for feeling so good under his hands, for smelling
so good—no matter how she denied it—for moaning into his mind like she was in
the throes of an orgasm.
    He finally turned away knowing that he was fully to blame
despite how he tried to convince himself otherwise. He had jerked her around.
He’d jerked himself around and he still had the erection to prove it. She had
perfect breasts. So responsive—if he hadn’t been so intent on jerking her
around, he could have made her come just by playing with her nipples. He’d lost
himself in touching her for a moment, been consumed by how good she felt under
his hands. He’d been the one who wanted to explore, not their mental
connection, but Eva’s body. He’d had to pull himself back and he’d done it too
harshly, too full of anger at his loss of control.
    “I’m sorry, Eva.” Now where had that come from? He never
apologized, never felt regret.
    For what?
    “For jerking you around.” Why did he keep feeling this urge
to explain himself to her? As if she needed to know about him, as if he needed
her to know about him. By now, she probably knew him better than anyone else
did and it had all come straight from his mouth.
    I’ll think about forgiving you. We’re stuck together for
a while. I suppose we should try to make it endurable, if not entirely
pleasant. Maybe your way would be easier.
    “My way?” Stone grabbed the bowl of vegetables off the table
and took them over to the sink to wash.
    I go back to typing everything I want to say. You go back
to what I’m guessing is your natural reticence and interpreting my facial
expressions.
    Stone shook his head, shook the beans in the colander so
they would get evenly washed. “This head-talking thing is too convenient to not
use.” The reality of it sank in, for the first time since his initial disbelief
that morning. Despite what Eva said about not imagining her mute, he wasn’t
entirely convinced that he hadn’t lost it completely and was imagining this
whole thing. Maybe that was why he’d inhaled her scent so greedily—it was the
most real thing about her. “But maybe it’s best that we keep our distance as
much as possible.”
    He heard a mental chuckle. That is entirely up to you. As
you’ve so effectively demonstrated, you are in complete control.
    He would see what he could do about that.

Chapter Four
     
    Stone spent the rest of the afternoon working on a second
crutch for Eva, so she could get around more easily by herself. Trips to the
outhouse were awkward and growing more so, after their earlier encounter.
Interaction. Contact. Conflict. All of the above. So he found a long, straight
branch and a short curved branch to act as a support and when he’d carved out a
hole in the latter and inserted the former and realized there was still light
left in the day and time before supper, he sought a way to make a hand grip for
each crutch. Eva made no demands, no comments, but occupied herself with a
book, her notes, or her tablet when she wasn’t sleeping after another dose of
medicine. Eventually, though, hunger began to creep up on him and he had to lay
aside his project in exchange for cooking.
    “You’re not a vegetarian or anything are you?” Stone asked
as he took two formerly frozen but by now completely thawed chicken breasts out
of the small refrigerator. When Carter, the pilot who flew the supply plane,
came every two weeks, he brought deep frozen meat in single serving packages.
It never stayed fresh the entire two weeks, but it lasted longer than if it
weren’t frozen. He also brought fuel for the generator, dry