Page 24 of Wren's Winter

“Let me do it,” I demanded. I looped my fingers into the waistband of her pants and peeled them down her legs. Throwing them into the pile, I stood up, grabbing the hem of her shirt. “This too.”

With the wet shirt now in the pile, I grabbed the closest blanket I had and wrapped it around her shoulders. Leading her to the couch, I sat her down in front of the fire, wrapping another blanket around her lower legs.

As quick as I could, I ran to the dryer, pulled out a change of clothes for me, and threw them on. Next stop was the kitchen to get a hot drink for her. I didn’t have time to make something, so coffee, it would be.

Sitting back on my haunches, I handed her the mug, which she graciously accepted, wrapping both hands around the hot surface. She took a small sip and grimaced. “No sugar or cream?”

Scowling, I took the mug from her, fixed the drink, then handed it back to her. She took a bigger sip this time and smiled. A warm, bright thing that gave me an uncomfortable expanding sensation in my chest. A lump formed in my throat as I imagined what would have happened if I hadn’t been out there when I was.

My hands on each side of her arms, I rubbed them fast, creating heat to warm her faster.

“You know, there are faster ways you could get me naked.”

I stopped, frowning at her. “I don’t like blue women. People might give may give me a hard time about my standards, but being warm is one of them.”

Color returning to her cheeks, and the blue fading from her lips, she took another sip of the coffee.

“Better?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Good.” I let out a slow stream of air, my tone changing. “Now, do you want to tell me what the hell you were thinking, going so close to a raging river in the middle of winter by yourself?”

She flinched back at my words. “I wanted to see it and—”

“What if I hadn’t been there? It’s thirty-four degrees outside, Birdie. You could have been seriously hurt. You could have died. Do you have any idea how quickly water can lower your body temperature?”

“It was an accident!” she shouted back at me, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “I wanted to see the river. I stepped on something, and the ground fell out beneath me.”

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I shook my head. “The river erodes the embankment. You always have to be careful around water, especially this time of year. That’s all snowmelt.”

“You think I don’t feel dumb enough? If you’d like to make me feel worse about my stupidity, get behind me in line.”

All the fight left me at her words. She was right. It was an accident, a freak thing that could happen to anyone. She wasn’t even the first person I had to help out of that river before. So, why was my reaction different with her?

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. But I was just so...”

Scared? There weren’t words enough for the panic coursing through me. In my classroom, I’ve dealt with countless emergencies. Allergic reactions, asthma attacks, kids stapling their thumb on accident, kids stapling their friend’s thumb on purpose. I was always calm, collected, and ready to help. Today, I was a mess, fumbling and terrified.

“It freaked me out, too.” She slid her hand out from under the blanket to grasp mine. I looked at her small fingers above mine. They were still frosty but better than before. Her voice was hesitant as her thumb traced the back of my hand, scorching lines that traveled into my chest. I moved my hand to hold hers better, palm to palm. “Thank you for helping me. I’m sure I would have been able to drag myself out of the river eventually, but having you there certainly helped.”

“I was happy to.” I cringed at my words. “Not that I was happy you fell in, just that I was there and I could help you, not that you couldn’t help yourself. I know you could have, but I was…”

There I go again, a fumbling mess around her. Where happened to the confident man I’d been the night before at the bar?

A small smile ticked up on her lips at my fumbled words. “I know.” She glanced down at our hands for a moment, something sad crossing her face. She pulled her hand back, tucking it under the blankets once more before standing with the blanket still wrapped around her body. Walking over to the pile of sopping wet clothes, she picked up her pants and shirt. “I should head back.”

“You’re not going anywhere like that. Those clothes are way too wet to put back on. You’ll get yourself sick.”

If she asked to borrow my clothes, I would have let her, but I wanted her to stay, wanted her near.

She frowned at me. “I need to shower or something, get this river muck off me.”

“You can shower here,” I offered.

She shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t be right. I doubt your girlfriend would appreciate it.”

I blinked at her, trying to process her statement. “My what?”

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