Page 6 of Wild River

Because it’s not working. She’s just lying there, sprawled like a broken doll, and what if I saw her too late? What if she’s long dead? What if—

“Gaaah!”

The drowned woman sits bolt upright like she’s been electrified, sucking in a desperate breath. We stare at each other. Her eyes are saucer-wide, and our noses are an inch apart.

Spots of color spread over her cheeks, and I’ve never been so goddamn glad to see someone blush.

She’s okay. She’s gonna be okay.

Then the drowned woman turns her head, coughs once, and vomits on the grass. It misses my legs, at least.

Well. There goes my peaceful day of fishing.

Three

Becca

The first thought blaring in my brain like a foghorn is:I’m alive. Holy shit, I’m alive. It’s a miracle.

The second thought, which creeps in as I chuck my guts up onto the grassy river bank is:Ew. When did I eat carrots?

The third thought doesn’t really hit until I’ve emptied my belly, coughing and retching with tears streaking down my cheeks. My limbs are shaking with cold, and my teeth are chattering from shock, and only once my surroundings start to fade back in do I remember that I’m not alone.

There’s a man here.

A dark haired, bearded, weather-beaten man in his thirties, wearing a black baseball cap and a red plaid shirt.

A man who is soaked to the skin, his clothes clinging to the muscled planes of his body; a man who has been stroking my back and murmuring comforting words the whole time I’ve been vomiting in front of him.

A man who clearly just saved my life.

And when I look up at him, that third thought is:Hello, daddy.

I’m not proud of it, but that’s exactly what goes through my brain when I finally lock eyes with my savior again. A wave of dizziness hits, and I slump to one side, bracing myself against the damp grass.

Is this real? Or am I hallucinating, still floating down the river somewhere, hovering on the edge of death? I swear at one point back there, a hungry bear swiped at me from the bank. Maybe it clonked me on the head.

“Wow,” I croak, staring at the man in a daze. My throat is sore from vomiting so much, but the word escapes me anyway—because yeah,wow.This guy has toffee brown eyes, both narrowed in concern as they watch me. He’s ridiculously handsome, but that’s not what’s messing with my reality; it’s the fact that this complete stranger is looking at me with more care than any of my family members have done in my whole life.

I shiver.

“Feeling better?” the man says, still stroking my back steadily. Even after his dunk in the freezing river, his palm is warm against my body. Solid and reassuring. “You look better, but we should get you to a hospital to get checked out. My truck is about half a mile away. Do you think you can walk?”

The shakes get worse, traveling along my limbs and rattling my teeth. That river was bone-achingly cold, but that’s not what’s making me shudder like this.

“No,” I whisper, jerking my head from side to side.

The man’s concerned frown deepens. “No? That’s alright. I’ll carry you. Let me just—”

“No, I mean, no hospital.”

The man blinks. He pauses, leaning over me with one arm ready to scoop under my legs. Lord, he’s sobigand muscly andbroad—he could toss me over one shoulder like slinging on a backpack.

And right now, he’s looking at me like I’ve bashed my head on one too many river rocks.

“No hospital?”

Yup. “No hospital.”

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