He nodded, his face grim as he clenched his teeth. Pushing to his feet, he was gone then back a moment later. “Let’s get the sweater off.”
I tried to tell him I’d do it myself, but I couldn’t seem to find the hem. My head swam, and I grew hot from the effort of moving. Sweat popped out on my upper lip, and I tried to swipe it away. I missed, and my hand got tangled in my hair instead.
“I f-feel like I’m d-d-drunk,” I confessed, trying again. “But I s-swear I’ve n-not had a d-drop of alcohol.”
The sides of his mouth quirked up a little bit. “You have a concussion.” He blew out a breath. “Here. Lift your arms.”
“O-o-kay.”
I did as he told me, and soon, my sweater was over my head. The lines on his forehead only got deeper. “Your tank is soaked too.”
I didn’t know how. Surely my thick sweater and parka had kept it dry. Looking down, I saw the red staining the white cotton, realizing it was blood. My blood. I blinked as the red circled around my vision. “Is th-that all f-from m-me?”
“Yeah. Head wounds bleed like a mother. Arms back up.”
My arms felt like lead weights as I lifted them over my head. Seconds later, the tank was gone, and the heat of the fire and his eyes warmed my skin. Through a distant realization, I understood I was naked in front of a complete stranger. But it was so hard to care. The only thing that mattered was how heavy my eyelids were, and how, if only I could sleep, my head wouldn’t hurt so much. And maybe all of this was a dream, and when I woke, I’d be in my little cabin, safe and warm.
He pulled a t-shirt over my head, stuffing my arms through the arm holes like I was a child. “There.” His voice was deep and gravelly, comforting. “We’ll get you in something better later. My clothes will swallow you, but they’ll be dry. When you warm up and the shock and adrenaline fades, I’ll tend your wounds, but I think they can wait for now.” He unwrapped the bloody t-shirt and pressed a thick towel to my head. Pain exploded once again.
“Sorry,” he said, and seemed like he really meant it.
Maggie plopped down on my feet, and her warmth and weight were instantly soothing. “Sh-sh-she’s a g-good d-d-dog.”
He piled some pillows next to me, and I gratefully laid down, then snuggled under the additional blankets he placed over me. Maggie moved from her position and hopped onto the sofa, lending her warmth to my feet again. It was so sweet. Like she knew what I needed.
He patted her broad head. “She’s the best. I’m going to get you something warm to drink. Coffee okay? Sorry, but I don’t have any tea.”
I actually did prefer tea, but I’d take anything hot. “Y-yes. Th-ank you.”
But even as he walked away, his wet jeans clinging to his legs, my eyes refused to stay open. I tried to look around at the room, but the effort was too much, and soon, I was lost in the abyss once again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gray
The snow continued to come down outside, the wind howling like we were in some type of nightmare. Or like some reverse hell that was made of ice instead of fire.
Checking the goddess’s pulse and respiration, my fingers lingered on her throat for too long. I forced them away, refusing to touch her inappropriately while she was asleep. She groaned, her face pinching as if she was in great pain, but she didn’t wake. Soon, her breathing was steady again.
While she was out, I cleaned and inspected the wound on her head. It was nasty and needed stitches, but I wasn’t equipped for them. For now, I just replaced the towel with a bandage until the bleeding completely stopped, worried but simultaneously grateful that my probing didn’t wake her. She had other wounds too. Places where the limb had punctured or scraped. One was very near her right eye. A half inch higher and she might have lost her ability to see.
She was damn lucky.
Hell, I was damn lucky. I’d never have been able to forgive myself if I hadn’t been able to save her.
Flashes from two years ago hit me as they always did. Jessica on the floor. Blood everywhere. The man hovering over her limp body, a gun dangling from his fingers. Through the slits of the grotesque clown mask he wore, his eyes were lifeless and blank as he raised the gun, pointed it at me. No questions. No demands. Just bang.
Only ten minutes earlier, I’d gone out for more Halloween candy at my wife’s request. “I can’t bear the thought of turning any of their sweet faces away,” she’d said, giving me the pleading look she knew I could never resist. Kissing the tip of her nose, I left, driving the few blocks to the store, being careful of the swarm of trick-or-treaters on the sidewalk. But when I got back…
The goddess moaned again, her hand coming up to cover her eyes, and I pulled my mind from the past that haunted me incessantly. Reaching over, I snapped off the lamp on the table beside her. Gently, I tried to wake her, but she only mumbled incoherent words. Lifting her lids, I watched her eyes dilate in the light of the fire. Her pupils were still a bit uneven, but I thought she’d be okay. She had to be.
A few years ago, it would have been more concerning for her to not wake up, but studies now found it safe for concussion victims to sleep. Still, it wasn’t like I could do anything either way. We were stuck here for days, or possibly weeks. We couldn’t get out, and no one could get in. We were completely on our own, and we’d just have to deal with whatever medical or other emergencies we faced.
Heaving out a breath, I stood to pace the cabin. At least eighteen inches had fallen so far, the snow combining with layers of ice to make everything even more treacherous. The power flickered, and I knew it wouldn’t stay on much longer, not with so much ice on the lines.
Sitting at my computer, I tapped the mouse to wake it up. I wasn’t surprised to see that the internet was down, even with the signal booster I’d installed. My eyes went to the folder. Her folder. I still couldn’t believe the chain of events that had brought the woman I’d been watching over, worrying over, into my cabin.
It had been close. Too damn close.
The moment I’d found the spot where she’d gone over the side, I could hear the tree cracking under the weight of the Jeep, the loud pops sounding like gunshots over the noise of the storm. With zero time, I’d abandoned the repelling gear, going for the faster but less safe rope. As I climbed down, I could see her pushing at the driver door, but the weight of gravity and the limb puncturing the vehicle was making the task difficult.
I was still pulling her out as the vehicle tried to suck her down. For a horrible moment, her glove came off in my hand. I’d always remember the way she cried out, begging me to not let her go, her pale green eyes looking up at me in complete terror.
Somehow, I managed to hold on. Managed to get her out. Managed to save her. Finally managed to do something right.