Page 7 of Holly's Grizzly

I should have done it sooner, shouldn't I? I fucked all of this up. I put Holly at risk. I didn’t do the right —

“Can I…” Holly says, her voice a rough rasp. “Can you… you’re warm.”

She reaches a hand toward me, and I immediately understand the unspoken request.

There are a few more blankets in a trunk at the side of the room, and I grab two before I join Holly on the sofa. I drape one over myself in an attempt to cover my own naked body at least a little. After pulling Holly into my lap, I settle the other over us both, tucking it in around her.

She lets out a little sigh and burrows into me.

“How are you feeling?”

It’s a stupid question.

I know it’s a stupid question, but I can’t think of anything else to say in the lingering haze of panic and worry that I’ve made some kind of catastrophic mistake here, that I should let her rest while I call someone for more help. Or just, I don’t know, Google it, maybe. Try to dosomethingother than freeze with indecision.

What the hell do I know about how to keep a human alive in the cold?

I’ve never had to worry much about winter survival, and Holly’s small, slender frame seems so impossibly fragile in my arms.

“I’ve been better,” she murmurs. “But I’m… alright. I can feel all my fingers. And my toes. I don’t think I’m going to lose any.”

She falls silent for a moment, wiggling a little like she’s double checking the accuracy of that statement, and a few more of my ragged nerves calm. Once she’s satisfied, she continues.

“I wasn’t in the river very long, and climbed out just before you got there. I lost… I lost my pack… and I didn’t know what I was going to… I would have… I would have died if you didn’t…”

Holly’s breathing speeds up, and an edge of anxious tears trembles at the corners of her words.

“It’s alright,” I tell her. “You’re alright. Don’t worry about it now. You’re here, and you’re safe. We’ll figure the rest of it out later.”

I’m rambling a bit, saying whatever I can think of to assure her that everything’s going to be okay.

I don’t know Holly. I don’t know what she was doing out in the woods during a storm. I can’t imagine how frightening it was to have fallen into that ice-cold water, to have come so close to freezing to death all alone.

All of that considered, I only hope I can give her some comfort and reassurance now.

“Thank you,” she says, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me, Holly.”

Her body curls up even more tightly, and it brings her feet in unfortunately close proximity to my side. When they brush against me, I can’t help the way my entire body locks up or my sharp gasp of surprise, and I regret both immediately.

“Sorry,” Holly says, shifting on me like she’s about to crawl out of my lap.

“No harm done.” I band my arm more firmly around her, keeping her right where she is.

Fishing a hand down between the blankets, I find that icicle foot of hers and start rubbing it slowly.

“Is this okay?” I ask, watching her face intently for any signs I’ve crossed a line.

“It’s…” Her voice trails off, and when my thumb presses into her arch, she lets out a soft, breathless moan. “It’s good.”

Fuck, I don’t want to let that moan do anything to me.

It’s completely, utterly, wildly inappropriate for that moan to do anything to me. I’m just warming her up, making sure nothing needs to be amputated later from frostbite. I’mhelpingher, and letting my mind wander down any other path would make me a first-class creep.

So I shut those thoughts down and focus on rubbing some warmth back into her feet, her calves, keeping a sharp eye on her face for any signs of discomfort or fear.

I find none.

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