Page 210 of Keeping Kasey
Kasey’s features begin to slacken, and for a second, I worry she might pass out. When a strained whimper escapes her mouth, I nearly set her back down, but I can’t. She needs to be warm. I cradle her to my chest, silently praying she doesn’t have any internal bleeding that I could be making worse. When she’s steady against me—her fragile body fully leaning into mine for support and warmth—I carry her to the bedroom and set her in the middle of the twin bed.
“Wait,” she protests when I release her. “Move me over to make more room.”
I kiss her forehead and gently tuck the covers around her.
“I’m not staying,” I tell her in an even tone, though I’m sure she figured that much out already. “I’m going to find help.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Logan
“What do you mean?” Kasey asks, near hysterical. “There’s nowhere to go!”
When I stand, her hand shoots out—albeit with a wince—to stop me.
I lay my hand gently over hers. “Waiting here isn’t an option anymore. We could’ve survived one, maybe two days before that window broke, but now we’re looking at a few hours.”
“Going out there isn’t going to change that. There’s nothing for miles! You have no way of knowing where to go. You won’t make it down the driveway.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I quip.
Her glare is equal parts vicious and fearful.
“Stay,” she pleads. “If we die, we die together, okay? Don’t you think we’ve spent too long apart?”
I brush a loose strand of hair from her forehead, memorizing every detail: her soft blue eyes, the parting of her full lips, the curve of her cheek that fits so perfectly against my palm. Her bruises have darkened in the last few hours, and her pain has to be reaching an unmanageable level.
I need to get her out of here.
“We’ve spent way too much time apart,” I agree. “And I’m going to get us out of here so we can spend the rest of our lives making up for lost time.”
“I can’t lose you too,” she says in a broken whisper, tears filling her eyes. “I won’t recover, Logan—I won’t.”
Her pleas weigh on me, each word carving into my resolve. I almost give in—I almost stay. But I can’t. I won’t let us die, and staying here is a death sentence.
Kasey is content to die together, but I’m determined tolivetogether.
“Listen to me,” I say, holding her face between my hands. “No one is dying tonight. Not me, not you. I’m going to find help, or at least a signal to call for help. You’re going to stay here until I can get medical care for you. We’re going to get out of here. We’re going to get married. We’re going to have lots of psychopathic children. We’re going to grow old together. We are going tolive.”
Tears spill over her cheeks, and I gently wipe them away with my thumb.
“I can’t lose you,” she says on a breath.
“No, you can’t. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”
Her breathy laugh is the sweetest sound, a fragile promise of hope, and I soak it in as I kiss her temple.
I start rifling through the dresser to find several long-sleeved shirts, flannels, and jeans. I take off my jacket and start layering up. Wearing a dead man’s clothes should probably give me pause, but right now, I don’t care.
The clothes are tight, but they’re better than nothing, so I don’t complain as I throw my jacket back on over several layers. It barely stretches over my shoulders and restricts my movement, but it’s better than nothing. As long as I have circulation, I’ll be fine.
There’s a pair of boots on the floor beside the dresser, and I pull them on. They’re two sizes too small, but I force my feet into them anyway. I’ll be trekking through several inches of snow, and there’s no way my dress shoes will hold up.
I take the remainder of the clothes—roughly four drawers’ worth—and cover Kasey in them. They aren’t much in the way of bedding, but they’re one more layer of insulation to keep her warm.
“This is really creepy,” she murmurs, looking at the clothes scattered over her.
“And unfortunately necessary.”
