That I was his.
I would have loved for him to have owned me right then and there, in that tent in the cave. But it was neither the place nor the time for that level of sexual intimacy. Despite how badly I wanted it.
But having him kiss me like that, to have his weight on me, to have his hands and mouth on me like that, was just as good.
It all simmered down to gentle and tender, sleepy kisses. Jack was warmth and safety, and I almost fell asleep with him on top of me. But eventually he rolled us onto our sides, wrapped me up in his arms, and fell asleep.
I wanted to check on the butterflies, but I wanted this more.
And God only knew how long those butterflies had inhabited that cave. A decade? A hundred years? A thousand?
I only had my husband like this for one night.
It wasn’t a contest.
So wrapped up in his arms, in his love, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.
I awoke before five, and peeling myself away from Jack, I pulled on my boots, coat, and beanie and checked the butterflies on my laptop. They were active, which was utterly confounding to me. Though it shouldn’t have been. This butterfly was not exactly nocturnal—it was active during the day making it diurnal. The difference being the cave was pitch black. It thrived in perpetual night, during daylight hours. I knew I’d be researching the variable factors of lepidoptery between night and day, and a species that thrived in the absence of light.
This tiny little creature was about to upend everything we thought we knew about the species.
Everything about its existence, its behaviour—everything that defined it as a butterfly—was different.
It was incredibly exciting.
And I knew this trip to this cave would be the first of a lot in our future. I dreaded being absent from Jack and Brennan for any length of time though. I had no qualms with Jack joining me, his work permitting, of course. But there was no way Brennan could do this. Even considering bringing him on the hike and then abseiling was out of the question.
No, it would mean time away from both of them. And that wasn’t something I looked forward to at all.
Or leaving my butterflies in my butterfly house. Or my other research, or my whole life back in Scottsdale, for that matter.
Perhaps I could assign this find to someone else. After my initial report, of course. And after our findings were substantiated and confirmed, of course. I would still have a lot of work to do . . .
“What are you frowning for?” Jack’s warm hand rubbed my back.
“Oh. You startled me. I didn’t hear you.”
“You were miles away,” he said gently. “I asked you if something was wrong with the butterflies.”
I looked at the screen in front of me. “Oh, no. They’re fine. Great, actually. Active at night.” The others were still asleep. I didn’t want to wake them, so I kept my voice low. “Well, what night is for us. I don’t know if the cave eliminates the diurnal and nocturnal barriers, though I can only assume the change in barometric pressure of a night time would play a part. The bats have all mostly returned to roost.”
“So why the frown?”
He looked so handsome with his three-day growth. I ran my thumb across it. “I like this,” I mumbled.
“Lawson.” He used that tone that told me he wasn’t interested in vacillation.
“I was just thinking about how much time this will draw me from you and Brennan,” I admitted quietly. “And I don’t know how much I’m prepared for that. Or even if I’m prepared to do that, at all.”
“Lawson, this find is huge. As if all the other work you’ve done isn’t enough to define your career but, my love, this discovery is career-defining.”
“I don’t care for accolades, Jack. I never have.” Then I shrugged. “Well, except perhaps for the Tillman Copper because my old university professor thought me maladroit.”
“This is a lot of big words before—” He checked his watch. “Before 5:00 am, and my first cup of tea. But that tells me you’re serious and quite possibly over-thinking things.”
“I care for the survival of the species, Jack. That is my number one priority. Facts, research, conservation, longevity. It doesn’t matter whose name goes on it. I know my value in this work.”
Jack sighed patiently, even smiled a little. “And that’s one of the many reasons I love you. But don’t make any decisions now. We’ll get all the information we can back to the lab, and take it one step at a time.” He put his hand to my cheek. “Don’t worry about me and Brennan. Our little home on our little farm isn’t going anywhere, and if you need to spend time away, we’ll be just fine. Don’t underestimate how important your work is.”
“Don’t underestimate how much I don’t want to leave. That little house on that little farm is where I belong. With you and our son. Don’t underestimate how important that is to me.”
“What are you saying, Lawson?”
“I think I might hand this one off. After the initial report, which is still a few months away anyway. I can give a couple of months,” I replied. “But I’m busy enough. I can consult and help if they need, but this could turn into years of work and I’m not prepared to miss that much of us. The idea of being away from Brennan for too long makes me feel . . . Is iniquitous the right word?”
The corner of his lip curled upward. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know.”
I put my hand to my forehead. “Perhaps bereft is more accurate.”
He pulled me in for a side-hug and he kissed my temple. “Whatever you decide, you have my full support.”
I closed my eyes and allowed myself to lean into him for a brief moment. It dawned on me then that I’d not once doubted his support. He was my absolute rock. “I’m so lucky to have you.”
He planted another kiss to the side of my head and rubbed my back. “You only say that because it’s my turn to pack up our gear.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “True.”
Jack gave me a playful tap on the backside. “You go pack up your camera and gear in the third chamber.” He handed me his torch, then nodded out to the cave entrance where the sky was beginning to lighten. “The sun’s about to rise, we’ve got weather rolling in, and we need to get down this mountain.”
I gave a nod and switched the torch on, picked up my backpack, and took it with me into the third chamber. I was careful on my walk through by myself; I’d rather risk running a few minutes late than another sprained ankle or wrist should I fall. But I made my way through to the third chamber without incident. The butterflies all reacted to my entrance, or to the torch, I should say.
There was a ripple of wings across the kaleidoscope. A wave of pink and mauve, almost like they were saying goodbye. “I will be back,” I told them softly. “I just want to say that even if I hand this research over, I promise whomever I deem satisfactory will be respectful and non-invasive. We will only return to observe and learn. You have my word.”
They didn’t answer, of course, though I did receive a few waves in response.
Smiling, I began packing up my gear, making sure it was all fine and stowed in my bag correctly. And with a final glance upward at this absolute marvel of nature, I let them be and made my way back out to the first chamber.