Page 3 of Two Risks I'd Never Take Again

“Are you trying to stand up?”

His head bobbed slightly.

“Okay. New plan number whatever. Who’s counting? I’m going to help you stand up, and then you can walk to my car. Maybe.” I pressed on his chest. “Oh wow, you’ve got some muscle. I’m going to need you to help get your big muscles off me at least enough for me to move.”

He was probably nice to look at without a shirt, but that thought wasn’t going to get us any closer to the car.

With his good arm, he pushed up, giving me just enough room to maneuver. Thinking about how much muscle was in that one arm was just another bunny trail I didn’t need to follow. But I kept thinking about how the man would look without a shirt, which was a major distraction.

“I’m going to flip over and try lifting you up enough so that you can get your feet underneath you.” I rolled to my stomach. “Hang on as best as you can.”

Sloshing in mud, I pushed up to my hands and knees. He had one arm wrapped around me, and I inched up higher.

He shifted and wiggled, and I hoped he’d get his footing.

Thunder clapped as lightning flashed, and we both landed in the mud, me on my stomach and the man on his back not far from me.

He covered his face with his good arm. Seeing his torment made it hard—impossible, rather—not to sob. But sobbing made it hard to communicate. After a deep breath, I squashed the sobs. Mostly.

Sniffling, I tried to act brave. “I think we almost had it. Let’s give it another go.”

He lifted his arm, and I suspected he was looking at me.

I crawled through the mud and stopped beside him. “So, Mr. Chiseled Brick, we’re going to do that all over again. And I’m sorry for acting like we’re mud wrestling. I know it’s hurting you.” If I kept talking, I’d start sobbing again.

Somehow, with his arm strength and my stubbornness, we ended up with him on top of me. Again. This time when I used my back to get him partially upright, he didn’t slip.

“Whoa! You can stand.” I scrambled to my feet. “Now I know you’re atall, chiseled brick.” I pointed at my car as I walked. “Don’t worry about the mud. I have seat covers.”

He didn’t move. Well, he sort of wobbled in place, and I rushed to his side before we had to start the whole process over again.

I tucked an arm around him. “Hang onto me.”

After draping an arm around my shoulders, he slumped against me. He could walk, but he needed my help. This was easier than dragging him.

Every step drew out another moan, and when he dropped into the passenger seat, the rain stopped—probably because Mother Nature hated me—and I was crying. Again.

I made my living feeding people doughnuts. Causing pain was the opposite of that, and I hated it.

“I am so sorry.” I reached around him and buckled the seat belt.

He brushed at a tear on my face.

The overhead light let me really see him for the first time, and I noticed the tears in his eyes. I could barely see his eyes because of how swollen they were, but sparkling in the little slits were tears. Or maybe that was rain. I could pretend it was rain. But those were tears.

“I don’t mean to cry, but I can’t help it. I’ve always been a sympathy crier. And you were moaning.” I needed to shut up and get the man to the hospital. “Please forgive me for hurting you.”

He cupped a hand to my cheek, and there was a pull of familiarity about him. But I didn’t have time to figure that out right now.

Instead of jerking away, I leaned into his hand a second. “I hope that means you forgive me.”

He tapped once with his thumb.

“One for yes. Two for no?”

Another tap seemed like an answer.

“Good. That will help us.” I ran around and climbed into the driver’s seat. “There’s a county hospital not too far from here. We’ll go there.” It meant backtracking, but at least I knew where I was headed. “So if you are up to it, let’s play a little game. I don’t think you should go to sleep because—just don’t, okay?”

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