Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) by Cynthia Justlin Page B

Alert. His brows dipped into a deep frown.
    “Thanks.” He reached for the blanket and pillow in her arms; his fingers bumped hers.
    Grace dropped the items into his lap. “You’re welcome.”
    She flipped the light switch on her way back to the bed, plunging the room into darkness. The lumpy mattress poked her in the side as she lay down and the paper-thin pillow put her head at an awkward angle. Grr. Had she gone and given the good pillow to Keith?
    She folded the pillow in half, doubling the non-existent softness and pulled the flat sheet up to her chin. At least the sheets smelled of fabric softener and a good tumble in the dryer.
    Ryker always put the softener sheet in their dryer.
    The fresh smell immediately lost its appeal and she kicked the sheet off the bed with barely contained vehemence.
    “Good night...Grace.”
    Keith’s voice stilled her legs. Her chest tightened. “Goodnight, Keith.”
    And then the room was silent. Way too silent.
    She squeezed her eyes shut and willed sleep to come...but there was nothing, just this great void in her heart, a vast emptiness as wide as the canyon they had to hike come morning.
    She tried counting sheep in her head. She tried singing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’. Backward.
    Nothing helped.
    “Keith...” She clamped her lips together. No. Don’t talk to him. “Are...Are you asleep?”
    “Yeah,” came his grudging reply.
    “Oh.” She flopped over on her stomach and buried her face in the pillow. But then the thought of tomorrow’s hike invaded her brain and she lifted up onto her elbow. “How long will it take to reach Phantom Ranch in the morning?”
    He grunted. “I can probably make it in three hours tops. Two if I hustle.”
    “Then that’s what we’ll do.” She plucked at the sheet. “Hustle.”
    “Wait a minute.” The recliner whined, indicating he’d sat up. “ We’re not doing anything. I’ll go down. I’ll bring Ryker back. You’ll wait here.”
    She jerked to a sitting position. “What? No way. I refuse to sit here and stare at the walls all day.”
    Keith’s footsteps crossed the floor but she persisted. “We’re so close. I’m not about to wimp out now—”
    Suddenly, he loomed over her. The room was so dark she could barely make out the details of his face. “You’ll slow me down. Is that what you want? To give the mercenaries a chance to catch up?”
    The words struck her in the heart. Would she jeopardize Ryker’s safety? The question crushed her confidence, taking her back to her teen years.
    “ I’ll give you ten bucks to dance with Graceless.”
    “ Ten bucks wouldn’t be nearly enough.” Keith’s youthful, callous laugh echoed through her.
    She winced and her hands flew to her ears.
    Clumsy. Shy. Awkward.
    Graceless.
    No.
    Her hands curled into tight fists and she brought them down to her sides. She was not that little girl anymore. She would not cower. She would not run. Her decisions were her own.
    She lifted her chin. “He’s my son.”
    “Then think of his best interests,” Keith said, his voice lethally soft. “And not as a selfish mother.”
    Grace swung her legs over the bed and stood, forcing Keith to step back into the sliver of moonlight that peeked between the crack in the curtains.
    She locked eyes with him. “Maybe you need to think like a selfish mother for a change, instead of a callous soldier.”
    His jaw went slack, his eyes lighting with surprise for a brief moment before returning to their flat, shuttered state. “I wouldn’t know how.” He twisted away from her and dropped into the recliner.
    She stared after him, listening to the mechanics of the chair pop and groan under Keith’s weight.
    “I’m going,” she said. “If you continue to disagree, I’ll leave tonight.”
    Silence was her only response.
    “I’ll go without you, do you hear?”
    “Grace, just go the hell to sleep.”
    “Not until you agree—”
    “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
    She stalked to