White Space Season 1

back, to find her bra, and fumbled with the clasp, feeling like an idiot when he couldn’t unhook it. Katie smiled, reached behind her back, and unhooked the bra, spilling her breasts to the cool air of the cave. Her nippled were light pink and a bit larger than he’d imagined, but no less beautiful.
    Oh God.
    He reached up gently cupped her breasts from below, then moved his hands up, running the tips of his fingers over nipples, feeling them harden beneath his touch.
    “You are so beautiful,” he said, feeling like an idiot, as if he were saying it not to her , but to her breasts. She moved toward him and her hands reached toward his belt, unfastening it, and pulled his jeans down, leaving him in just his boxers, which stuck out like he was pitching a tent.
    She stared down at his erection, and then put her hands back, “Do you want to?”
    “Oh God, yes,” he said.
    Katie giggled.
    “Hold on a sec,” Alex said, opening his backpack and pulling out his black hoodie sweater. He found a soft spot on the ground and laid it down, then draped his shirt beneath it to make an impromptu bed.

    **

    After Alex and Katie made love, they stayed entwined on the ground, feeling the cool air blow over their nude bodies. All the pain, angst, and horror in his clouded mind seemed to melt away with the rise and fall of Katie’s head on his chest.
    As they drifted to sleep, Alex could do nothing about the big, goofy grin that had swallowed his face.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 3 — Cassidy Hughes

    Friday afternoon

    Cassidy watched the girl, wondering what things she was seeing behind her eyelids as she dreamed in her hospital bed. Wondering what hell she’d been through while she was missing.
    If Whistler had touched the girl, Cassidy would move heaven and earth to make sure the fucker never touched another living thing.
    Jon and Emma sat in chairs on either side of the bed, neither of them saying much as they waited for an update. It had been more than two hours since Dr. Don Close had checked her over, and said he’d be right back. Houser sat in the waiting room down the hall, since the hospital wouldn’t let all three of them stay in the room with Emma.
    “Maybe he forgot about us,” Cassie whispered. “What the hell is taking so long?”
    “I dunno,” Jon said, sighing.
    The door pushed open and Dr. Close appeared, a tall, dark haired man in his late 40s who reminded Cassidy of that actor, Jon Hamm. He invited them out to the hallway to talk out of earshot of Emma, who was still sleeping. As they stood outside the doorway, Houser joined their circle.
    “Emma’s going to be just fine,” Dr. Close said, “I didn’t find any signs of injury or sexual assault.”
    Cassidy turned bright, but it was only a moment before the doctor cast a dark shadow on her happiness.
    “However,” he cleared his throat. “Emma has no memory of anything after going to bed. She has no idea how she left the house, or what happened to her until she was found. No clue how she wound up in the woods. Nothing.”
    “What does that mean?” she said.
    “We don’t know, at least not yet,” the doctor shook his head. “We’re running several tests on her blood right now. We’ll let you know if and when we find anything.” He looked down at his clipboard, then up at Cassidy. “Besides her acute memory loss, Emma is also severely dehydrated, so we’re keeping her on the IV and for observation overnight.”
    Cassidy felt like she was one more sentence from cracking. The doctor placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Everything will be fine. She’s been found. That means the worst is over. We’ve put in a call to Dr. Kinkaid, and he’ll be arriving first thing tomorrow morning to give Emma a full checkup. We should have all of our test results by then as well.”
    “Can I stay the night with her? Sleep in the chair?” Cassidy asked.
    “Certainly,” Dr. Close said. “Actually, I’ll see if someone can bring in another bed, if you’d like.”
    “That would be great,” Cassidy said. “Thank you.”
    “You okay?” Jon asked as Dr. Close left them.
    “Yeah, much better. Good to know Emma’s gonna be okay. But what do you think that means,” she looked at Jon. “About her memory? Is that something permanent?”
    Jon opened his mouth, but Houser’s mouth moved faster.
    “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Sometimes the brain has a way of blocking shit it can’t, or isn’t ready, to deal with yet. She’ll come