Page 102 of Healing Conviction
Instead of saying anything further, they both huffed and took several precious seconds to get up on all fours. Nora stood before he did and swallowed the smoky taste in her dry mouth. Drake finally crawled to the tree, where she bent to wrap his arm over her shoulder so he could use both her and the tree to get up.
When he finally stood, he looked around, his eyes fixing on one spot, and groaned.
“What is it?” She looked back to the two huge bags, her backpack, and the emergency box they still had to take back to the truck. The very far away truck.
Shidoobie on a stick.
“We need to leave, but we can’t take everything,” Drake explained. “Those need to come with us, but we have to decide what’s important.” He glanced at the fire, then back at her. “And quick. I’ve had training in fucked-up situations. You haven’t.”
“I’ll be fine.” She exhaled harshly and dragged his pack to him so he could decide what all they could take in her small one, her thighs screaming every step and her shoulders straining with every pull. She was exhausted herself, and he could barely even bend over without falling, bringing her back to the anxiety of those first couple of weeks he’d been awake.
“Drake, are yousureyou are gonna be okay?” Her voice was small, but a part of her realized she wasn’t embarrassed about it.
He stopped his packing and looked up at her, holding her eyes. The resignation there squeezed her chest with sympathy. “Now that all my adrenaline’s gone, I’m spent. But the pain means I’m alive.” Tears pricked her eyes. “I’ll be fine, Pix. I promise. I’m just not as good as I once was.”
A Toby Keith country song popped into her head, and she felt the urge to belt it out to get him to smile again. But she pushed it down.
The pain means I’m alive.
It hurt to feel it, but that was okay. As if he could read her mind, an encouraging smile lifted his lips.
“We can be sad about this, Pix. It’s important to feel it. But we need to focus on leaving now.”
She nodded.
We can feel sad about this. But later.
At the moment, they had a fire to race.
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
She pushed her thoughts and weariness away, immersing herself in unpacking, packing, and listening to Drake’s instructions. With every item they went over, the heat from the fire increased until sweat poured down her back, pushing her to go faster.
But the closer the fire got, the more she accidentally fixated on sorting the last few items into the bag just right, until Drake’s voice began to get more and more urgent.
“Pix… baby… the fire’s getting pretty fucking close.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. I can’t look at it or I’ll freak out.”
I think I’m freaking out anyway.
Slamming her eyes closed, she took a deep breath before stuffing the rest of the items in. She forced herself to keep from opening her eyes again until it was all shoved to the bottom and she was zipping it up. The bag was about to burst but it closed, and that’s what counted.
She stood up slowly, her thighs burning with fatigue.
The shadows in Drake’s concerned face were made deeper in the firelight. “You alright?”
She waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. Just a little worn out. It’s fine though. Nothing a fire-fueled boost of adrenaline can’t fix.”
He snorted and beckoned her closer with his hand. She complied so he could lean against the tree to help her put the bigger backpack on. When he finished tightening the straps for her and buckling it across her stomach, she grunted as she hauled up whatever the heck the box was, too.
It certainly wasn’theavyheavy, but it wasn’t freaking light either. Even though her body screamed against the weight, and her chest was starting to feel like it was caving in, Drake was barely standing. He needed the least amount to carry as possible. She heaved the box into an awkward embrace and nearly fell.
Oh fudge, this is gonna suck.
Drake unhooked some carabiners and straps from her backpack and wrapped them around his shoulders, back, and waist before taking the box from her arms.
“No, Drake. Let me. You can’t carry—”
