Physically, she seemed to heal almost overnight. You could attribute it to her age and her resiliency to overcome what she had been through. Breakneck would come by often to check on her. As he had directed, she spent a lot of time off her feet and resting.

It was her emotional state that worried me. She still refused to let her parents know her location. She did call them once she got to my house, and once again she used a disposable phone. Although I didn’t totally agree with it, I didn’t press her about it. It did slightly alarm me when she started researching the veterinary program at the University of Georgia. She seemed hell-bent on never returning to Virginia, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

She grew more and more dependent on me. After I had spent several nights on the lumpy couch, she finally talked me into sleeping in my bed with her. It wasn’t uncharted territory, since we had spent the night in the same bed before. But at the same time, there was an illicit feeling about it. I felt like a teenager sneaking off to do something I shouldn’t, which was not something I had felt for a very long time. While I didn’t want to think about Annabel in any sexual way, it was hard not to when she came to bed in pajama shorts that revealed her legs or thin tops that showed off her cleavage. I knew better than to say anything to her about it, lest I’d look like some pervert who had been getting off on her.

There was also the fact that waking up with a beautiful woman wrapped around me did nothing to stop my morning wood. If Annabel ever noticed, she didn’t say anything. I also hoped she didn’t notice my longer-than-normal cold showers to eradicate said morning wood. Again, if she knew, she never said anything. I could have easily taken out my frustrations with one of the club whores. Even though I had come home with a woman, it hadn’t deterred some of them from their interest in me. Before, just a flash of a pair of tits would have had me hard as a rock and raring to fuck whatever was closest to me. But after Annabel, it didn’t have the same allure. It seemed my dick had allegiance to only one woman, and painfully, it was the one who was off-limits.

Of course, any inappropriate thoughts easily fled when she woke up, screaming and thrashing, from nightmares at least two to three times a week. Since I was no stranger to those types of wake-up calls, I would merely reach through the sheets to bring her body closer to mine. “It’s okay, Annabel. You’re okay,” was usually all I would have to say. She would spend a few minutes steadying her breathing in the dark, as if she was trying to believe that she was really with me in Georgia and not back in Mexico with Mendoza. Finally, after a small eternity, she would calm down and go back to sleep. I wondered what it would be like for her if I weren’t in bed beside her. Would she be able to calm down, or would she suffer a lot of sleepless nights like I had in the past?

While I was helping Annabel, it didn’t escape my mind how much I enjoyed her presence, either. I wanted her to be well, and to not need me, but her presence was a comfort, too. One I expected I would miss when she left.

But at the same time, I was beginning to feel like the human equivalent of a child’s safety blanket. While I wanted to be there for her, I was still so frightened that I was impeding her healing. That as long as I allowed her to use me, she would never be well on her own. However, she never mentioned her therapist’s voicing these concerns. With Alexandra’s help, she had managed to find one she liked, and had started twice-a-week appointments.

The true bright spot in her life, and if I let myself admit it, in mine as well, was Poe. Who knew a little deer could bring so much love and enjoyment to our lives? Through Annabel’s care, he—we’d discovered we had a boy—was thriving. I was amazed at how much knowledge she possessed to care for him. The whole routine of stimulating him to pee or poop with warm cotton balls blew my mind. When I had said as much, Annabel only giggled. “Well, his mother would do that in the wild to protect him from predators.”

“But how . . .”

“With her tongue,” she replied.

“Disgusting,” I muttered.

Poe had moved from a small crate in my bedroom to a larger crate on the back porch. He was soon going to be big enough to use an old dog run we had on the property. Annabel never had to do his feedings alone. Willow often came to help give Poe his bottle, but the most amusing scene was when Deacon or Bishop would come by and gather the blanket-wrapped deer up like a baby to give him his bottle.

Friday night found me finishing up a feeding with Poe. I had insisted that Annabel take it easy after she helped Mama Beth cook a big meal for a family who had a sick relative. When I sniffed my shirt and got a strong whiff of animal, I knew I needed to grab a quick shower before heading up to the roadhouse.

After I showered and shaved, I came out of the bedroom to find Annabel reading on the couch. At the sight of me, she lowered her e-reader, and then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah, actually I am. I have to go up to the roadhouse. One of our prospects is getting patched in.”

Her face took on a bewildered expression. “Patched in? What does that mean?”

I laughed. “It means he’s a full member of the club now. He doesn’t have to run around doing errands. He’s proven he’s worthy of us.”

“That all comes in the form of a patch?”

“Before, he had to wear a prospect’s patch, which is like a sign saying you’re everyone’s bitch. Now he gets the real deal.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“I don’t know about that. Of course, Crazy Ace, the guy we’re patching in, could make anything interesting.”