Page 81 of Kindling
The cabin remained silent. He considered turning around. Going home. Cam would kill him, though, and probably Mum, too. He wasn’t sure what they expected from him, but it wasn’t this.
So he pulled out his keys, thinking Harper was probably still asleep. The least he could do was make her a cup of tea and be sure the heater was running hot enough. The temperature had dropped overnight, coating the fallen leaves in frost. She would need more layers than she’d been surviving in from now on, and she could say goodbye to cold showers unless she wanted to come down with pneumonia.
However, when he slipped the key in, he found it already unlocked. Thank god they were in the middle of nowhere, otherwise he’d have to lecture her on how dangerous that could be. He stepped in as quietly as his heavy boots and creaky floorboards would allow, wincing as the door clicked shut.
He froze when he saw a heap of shadows on the couch. Had she fallen asleep here?
“Harp?” he whispered gently, his blood pounding in his ears. Just her presence made him regret everything he’d said yesterday. Made him regret not just begging her to stay because he—
No. She was shivering, her face pale enough to stand out in the shadow of her blanket. Her lips were a frightening shade of blue, teeth chattering uncontrollably, and her hair…
Damp.
“Harper?” Fraser dropped to his knees, brushing the tangled hair from her face. He gasped when his knuckle brushed her cheek.
“You’re freezing. Why the fuck are you so freezing?” Instinct drove him up, seeking another blanket. In his panic, he couldn’t find one, eventually tearing off his coat to press over her in the hopes it would transfer his warmth. “Harper, love, talk to me, please.”
Though her lids remained shut, she mumbled something raspy and unintelligible under her breath. He leaned in, cupping her quivering jaw in his hands. A waxy sheen coated her face, terrifying him, but he tried to keep his voice even. “What? What did you say, sweetheart?”
“Went for a swim.” Her words slurred together like sludge in her mouth. Dread tore through him like somebody had buried his axe right down his middle.
She’d gone for a swim. Before dawn. In freezing cold weather.
“We need to get you to a hospital. Now.” He wasn’t even sure if he should move her. She looked so small, so breakable, hidden under the pile of blankets, which was clearly doing nothing to warm her up.
“I’ll b’ fine,” she said, a confused wrinkle burrowing between her brows. “Jus’ cold.”
“You’re not just cold,” he whispered. “You’re hypothermic. What were you thinking?”
“’m the main character.”
He frowned. She was talking nonsense.
Any hope that this looked worse than it was dissipated, especially when her lids drooped closed again. Fraser swore, pressing his forehead against hers and wincing when that icy cold frosted his own skin. He should call an ambulance, but this cabin was miles from anywhere. There was no street number, no street, only a dirt track leading up to his gate. Who knew how long it would take for the paramedics to find them?
No. He would have to take her himself. He could go to Fort William. It was only forty minutes away. Thirty if he was lucky enough to avoid the traffic, which he should be so early.
“Hold on, sweetheart.” He stood up, trying to find where she ended and the blankets began. When he found her knees, he scooped her up, whispering soothing words he wasn’t sure she could even hear.
She mumbled again, something he couldn’t make out, and his throat clogged with a fear he’d only ever felt for his family before. This was so much worse than the day Harper climbed Macaskill Ridge. He wasn’t even sure if he’d been this scared when Cam had her emergency C-section, when Mum’s knee gave out, or when Eiley didn’t pick up her phone.
“I’ve got you. Stay with me, Harp. Please,” he begged. He held her to him with one arm while he wrestled with the car door, swearing until it finally came free. Carefully, he placed her into the passenger seat, his hands fumbling and trembling as he wrapped the blankets around her tightly and tried to fasten the seatbelt over them.
“Fuck!”
All this time he’d spent trying to control everything. To make everyone’s lives easier. To be the one immovable oak in everybody else’s hurricane. And now he couldn’t help the woman he loved. He couldn’t make her open her eyes, couldn’t get her to talk to him, couldn’t chase away this cold.
“Please don’t do this.” The plea cracked through his voice. “Please be okay.”
He wasn’t sure what he would do if she wasn’t.
He shut the door, climbed in beside her, and immediately put the heat on the highest setting before starting the car.
How he would manage to drive in a straight line with this much terror surging through him, he didn’t know.
30
Fraser felt like he was floating in a dream – or, rather, a nightmare – as he watched the nurses care for Harper. The fluorescent lights and white walls were too bright after driving in the near-dark, and he soon found there was nothing he could do but stand back and watch. In no time, she was hooked up to oxygen and warm IV fluids, which were bringing colour back into her cheeks. The doctor had confirmed it was hypothermia, and everything beyond that had been nothing more than muffled, underwater speech he didn’t understand.
