Page 52 of Risk It All
“What?” The question was little more than a croak, but he was awake and alive and actually talking, and that made her cry even harder. He struggled to push himself up, and still sobbing, she helped steady him. Once he was upright, she didn’t let go, clinging to his arm with one hand and his wet shirt with the other. He wrapped an arm around her, holding her in that careful and secure way that was becoming so wonderfully familiar. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and the demanding tone was so exactly him that it was glorious.
“Nothing,” she finally managed to get out semi-coherently. “Nothing now. Everything was wrong when I thought you were dead.”
“Dead?” He coughed again, and she clung tighter, irrationally worried that this was just a breathing, talking fluke and he’d fall over at any second, actually dead this time. Despite her worries, he stayed sitting up, his gaze only getting sharper and more focused. “What happened?”
“You fell.” Her voice quavered as she mentally relived the moment when he went down. “Hit your head on a rock.” She reached toward the spot and hovered her fingers over it without touching the lump, for fear of hurting him. “I chased you until you got stuck on a rock, and then I hauled you out and did CPR.” Her gaze fell to his chest. “I didn’t break any of your ribs, did I? The instructor said that’s common.”
His mouth actually quirked, and she wanted to yell at him that this wasn’t a time for smiling or laughing or any type of amusement, because he’d come much too close to dying for anything to be funny for a very long time. “My ribs are fine,” he said. “My head, though…” He reached up and, unlike her, actually probed the spot where the rock had connected with his skull. His expression went blank in a way that she took as a wince of pain.
“Concussion?” she asked, still so off-balance by hisalmost dyingthat checking his other injuries was strange, making her feel as if they were concentrating on the wrong thing.
“Doubt it.” He went to stand, and she hurried to scramble to her feet so she could help balance him. Once upright, she reached for him and swayed, not sure if she was clinging to him to help her balance or his. Either way, it was good to feel the living tension in his muscles and the warmth of him after he’d been so cold and still.
She frowned, sliding a hand under his single wet layer to feel the skin over his abs. The physical exertion of performing CPR had warmed her, thawing her fingers and toes, but his skin felt cooler than usual, even clammy.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he said, the words sounding soft around the edges, “but is now the time to feel me up?” He wasn’t quite slurring, but she still looked at him sharply.
“You’re too cold,” she said, looking around them for the first time. “Should we start a fire?” There were plenty of downed branches and other fuel around, but they were all wet, thanks to the melting snow. Also, unless Henry knew how to light a fire by rubbing two sticks together—which wouldn’t really surprise her, knowing Henry—they didn’t have any way to start it.
“Where are our other clothes?” he asked, taking in the area as well.
“You dumped them all in the river when you went down like a felled redwood.” There was a tiny edge to her voice that she knew was because she was worried, but she still felt bad about scolding him for something that wasn’t his fault. “Sorry. You couldn’t help it. The branch hit you hard.”
“The branch. Right.” Comprehension lit his eyes, and she knew he was remembering what had happened. “C’mon. We need to walk.” As he turned, his legs wobbled and he started to go down. She tried to catch him, but his weight carried her to the ground with him. He managed to turn and take most of the impact of the fall, while she tumbled down on top of him.
The sign of weakness panicked her, and she hurried to roll off him. She knew he had to be in terrible condition to fall from just taking a step, and her stomach twisted into knots as she crouched next to his head.
“Sorry.” He grimaced, already trying to push up to a sitting position.
“Just take a minute,” she said, pressing his shoulder with her palm. She wasn’t strong enough to keep him down if he really tried to get up, but he must’ve agreed that it was a good idea for him to rest for a moment, since he stopped attempting to rise. The fact that he was willing to lie there scared Cara almost as much as when he’d fallen.
She rubbed his arm, almost recoiling when she felt how cold he was. Suddenly concerned that hypothermia was making him compliant, she stretched out over him, plastering her front to his. His mouth quirked, that wry expression so Henry-like that she almost sobbed again with relief.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his words shuddering slightly as his muscles shook, his body doing its best to warm him.
“Getting you warm.” She felt her own shivers ripple through her as her clammy clothes stuck to her chilled skin, and she made a face. “Well, warmer, at least.”
“We can’t stay.” His teeth clicked together audibly. “Abbott…”
“I know.” Tucking her face into his too-cool neck, she chafed her hands up and down his arms, trying to generate some heat. She wished she were bigger—or at least had a dry blanket for him. Even if they’d had time, there was no way she could start a fire, not without dry matches. Why hadn’t she done Girl Scouts as a kid?
Henry wrapped both his arms around her, holding her tight to his shivering body. “You’re so nice,” he said.
Her head popped up, worry stabbing at her insides. “You’re not going into shock, are you?”
“What?” His eyes looked clear, and the pupils were symmetrical, giving her hope that he was thinking clearly. “No, I’m okay—just cold.”
Despite his words, she continued studying his face closely.
His brows drew together, even as his mouth twitched with amusement. “I can’t give you a compliment without you thinking I’m delirious?”
“Well…”
His huff was shaky but clearly a laugh, and relief trickled through Cara at the sound.
“You don’t normally say things like that,” she said, attempting to rub some warmth back into his sides. The places where their bodies touched were starting to heat, with just the extremities still numb with cold. “You tend to show your love in actions, rather than with words.”
When he stilled, she realized what she’d implied.Love.
