Page 47 of Lost With You
“The water’s up to my ankles.”
“Hold on, darling.”
Her heart beat double time at the sight of Dylan soaked and grinning. For one crystalline moment, braced by euphoria, Casey understood all the daredevils she’d ever interviewed. They performed their stunts for rare and gripping moments like this, the quivering thrill she felt right now, an incandescent joy. She had chased adventurers all over the country since Ian’s death—running away from what she’d left behind—but perhaps what she really should have chased instead was a long, deep gulp of happiness even if it scared her to death.
She cried out Dylan’s name, but the roar of their passage plucked the words from the air. He shouted something back, but his words fragmented, too, right before the bow slammed into something.
The crack sounded like a gunshot. The bow reared straight up. Thrown up from her seat, she saw the canoe start to split. Dylan grunted before he was thrown over the gunwale, before he was sucked down by the water. The sky stretched blue in her vision as she hung suspended for a moment before the river closed over her head.
Awash in the burble, she felt the current seize her. She shot down the river on her back like a human luge, dipping in, pushed out. Her mouth filled with spray, and her ears ached at the suck of the vacuum. The world was white and roaring. Her heels scraped the rocky bottom. She flailed, trying to keep her head above water, but there didn’t seem to be a surface of the river, just levels of spray and foam. The life jacket she wore was a bulky hindrance, catching on things. Then, just as suddenly as she’d been pulled under, she was spit up against a jutting log.
Bark biting into her cheek, she sputtered as she tried to haul herself up. The current threatened to pull her back under. She yanked and threw a leg over, gripping the fallen trunk and edging toward the steep riverbank, slipping twice as she tried to rise to her feet. Seizing saplings, she pulled herself onto dry ground and lay flat, trembling with cold. Warm blood dripped down her shin. Her palms smarted as if the river bottom had shaved off two layers of skin. Her side pulsed where she’d slammed up against the tree. She blinked up at the interlaced branches, keenly aware of the blood pumping through her veins, the air filling her lungs.
“Dylan?” Her voice was a croak. She raised her head and looked toward the river.
No gear in sight. No canoe in sight. No Dylan in sight.
Her stomach curled into itself, went acid hot.Think.How far had she traveled downstream? She winced as she pushed her battered body up. Nothing broken. Nothing sprained. Her knees were bleeding, stinging. She gripped a sapling to keep herself from sliding down the steep bank, then headed downstream along the bank, or what there was of it. She pushed away brambles and kept an eye out for debris, for him. She caught sight of some cloth caught on a bush—clothing. Hers? His? Flashes of visions rose to her mind, of Dylan hitting a boulder, of Dylan unconscious, of Dylan in the river.
Her mind split. Her consciousness floated out of the fissure like a balloon rising high. This wasn’t happening. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel. She rifled through her memory, wondering how long a man could stay underwater. She remembered the CPR class she’d taken at the community college before she’d set off for her first assignment. How many seconds was she supposed to wait between breaths? The details escaped her.
She couldn’t lose him.
She loved Dylan.
With all the strength within her, she screamed his name.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dylan slapped his hand against a tree so his knees wouldn’t crumple beneath him as he heard Casey’s voice through the woods.
“Casey!” He winced as the shout shot another knife of pain through his side. “Over here!”
He heard her half cry and then the sound of kicked underbrush and running footsteps. He gingerly pushed himself away from the tree and headed in the direction of the noise. He saw a flash of something between the trunks, a pale face, sunlight on her chestnut hair. He heard breathy gasps and the pounding of her feet.
She’s running.He swallowed a shout of relief.She’s not injured.
His knees threatened to buckle again, but he shored them up, getting a grip on himself. He should never have asked her to ride these rapids. He’d been caught up in the thrill of her trust in him. He’d wanted to nurture it, draw her closer, but not like this. Just before the river had sucked him under, he’d caught a glimpse of her tumbling over the side of the canoe. His heart had all but stopped. He’d rolled around in the water, buffeted by the current, struggling to lift his head, to swim toward her as they both were drawn downstream, but there was no swimming in that current. Then he’d been thrown against something so hard that it ripped the life vest off his body. Stars had exploded behind his eyes. He’d lost sight of her in the struggle not to pass out.
Now she broke through the trees, swiping wet hair out of her face. Angry pink scratches crisscrossed her arms. A welt rose on her cheek. Bloody streaks painted her shins.
“Casey.” He extended one arm, beckoning.
She hurled himself at him. He braced himself for the impact, grimacing as she slammed against his chest. He threw his arm around her to band her close, protecting his injured side. She smelled of river and tree bark. She trembled against him, burrowing deep.
Oh, God, Casey.
He was a damned fool, all over again.
He said, “Are you injured?”
“I’m one big bruise.” She shifted closer against him, swell against hollow, skin against skin. “Everything aches.”
He spoke against her hair. “But you’re all right.”
“No.” She made a glottal sound. “No broken bones, but I’m definitelynotall right, Dylan MacCabe.”
He held her tighter, despite a new stab in his side. The sight of her running across the space toward him was burned into his mind. He would choke down a hundred grunts of pain to have her throw herself at him like that again. Maybe she was hanging on to him out of panic. He didn’t care. He wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe like this forever.
