Page 9 of Willow Embers
“We need to get you both out of the water.” Beauden’s gruff voice this close drags me back to a time in my life I’ve spent years avoiding, so it takes a minute for his words to make sense. “Now! Nixie!”
His strong arms slide under me and lift me out of the water like it’s nothing.
“No! Beauden, put me down! I’m not leaving him!” A wave of panic wipes out the last of my common sense as I fight against his hold.
He drops to a knee in the creek, the icy water drenching us both.
“For fuck’s sake, Nixie, stop,” he commands. “I’ll go back and get him as soon as I get you back on dry ground. Just quit fighting me. Please,” he grinds out.
I almost don’t. My breath comes in ragged pants. Adrenaline is like a monster raging inside me, demanding action, and it takes every sliver of self-control I possess to go still in his arms. But it’s not until he sets me on my feet that I realize I’m shivering.
Reality crashes over me like a brick through a window. I was only in the water for a minute. How long has Tiberius been stuck there, with his leash tangled around the rotten tree trunk that’s half-buried by the stream? Hours?
“Beauden, please,” I plead.
But the plea is pointless because he’s already sloshing back into the water toward Tiberius. When he gets to him, he talks to him, low and soft. It’s almost the same voice that I trusted all those years ago, only this one is deeper, calmer, more self-assured.
Beauden tugs on his leash and Tiberius stumbles. Another weak whimper makes my heart ache.
Come on. Come on.I rub my arms and shift my weight from foot to foot, fighting the powerful need to go back into the water to help. But if I try that now, I’ll just slow everything down.
Beauden pulls a folding knife from his pocket, and my pulse spikes, until I see him set to work sawing through the nylon leash. I nearly snap at him to unclip the damned thing from Tiberius’s collar, but I bite my tongue at the last minute.
Why? Because the crumbs of logic still tumbling around in my brain know that what Beauden’s doing is the smart move. It means we’ll still have a leash for Tiberius, rather than trying to walk him back to the car in the dark, hunched over with my hand wrapped around his collar, for miles and miles.
God only knows how many miles.
Another shiver snakes through me. I have no idea how long we’ve been hiking or how far we’ve come.
Beauden is heartbreakingly gentle as he lifts Tiberius out of the water, like he’s holding something precious. Which he is. The most precious creature in the world to me. But when he looks at me with his deep brown eyes narrowed, he’s wearing the same scowl that sent me fleeing from the bar the night before.
Mud cakes my shoes as I wait impatiently at the water’s edge. I want my boy, dammit. I want to know he’s okay. I want to look into his big, lovey eyes and smell his puppy breath. Except, when I expect Beauden to set Tiberius on his feet, he doesn’t. Instead, he carries him over to me and bends a little.
“He’s weak, Nixie. Weak and freezing.”
Not what I wanted to hear. “What can we do? Do you have matches or a lighter? I’m cool with burning the forest down if it’ll warm him up.”
Beauden rubs his lips together, but I can’t tell if he thinks I’m joking.
I’m not. I mean, I might be exaggerating, but the night is still young.
“The hike back to the parking area is too far,” he says firmly. “So, we’re going to get back to the main trail and hike until we find the nearest fire watch tower. I know there’s one along this stretch of the trail. Then we’re going to start a fire and get him warm before we do anything else. You good with that?”
I nod quickly. Whatever it takes.
“Good. Grab my bag.” He tips his head and the light from his headlamp shines on it sitting in the dirt. “And stay close.”
“Wait. Are you— you’re going to carry him the whole way?” I ask, worry coiling tight through my chest. “It’s that bad?”
Beauden looks down at Tiberius for a beat before meeting my gaze. “He’ll be okay. I’m just playing it safe.”
He’s lying. I can feel it, but rather than fighting with him, I make the conscious choice to accept the lie. For now. Which pays off, because once we’re back on the trail, with my shoessquishing and my jeans chafing as I walk, and I’m so cold it actually hurts, I cling to that lie like a lifeline.
He’ll be okay.
He’ll be okay.
We don’t talk. We just trudge down the trail. My jaw is screwed so tight it aches, but I’m shaking enough that I’m pretty sure my teeth will start to chatter if I don’t keep it clamped.
