Another blast of frigid air wafted through the house, blowing across her wet body and racking a shiver through her.
She swore at the universe. And then she swallowed her fury and all her self-pity. No one was coming. At least not until tomorrow, and Muttley wouldn’t wait that long. Not when rain splattered them with cold waves of droplets as trees swayed overhead and thunder continued to roll and rattle the house.
Using her most calm and confident tone, she said, “Muttley, sit.” Then to herself she said, “You got this.”
She didn’t feel any more capable, but she moved into action anyway.
Lifting her head, she stretched out one arm at a time as far as she could without toppling over. She touched an end table. She could pull it over and get on top of it, but that was as far as the table would take her. Though it did give her another idea.
When she couldn’t reach the sofa, Mackenzie pulled the sleeve of Hunter’s flannel over her hand and gingerly swept a spot on the floorclear of glass. Shards pricked at her palm, and when she moved her knee to that spot, baby-fine slivers dug into her flesh. She gritted her teeth and growled through the pain, reaching toward the sofa again. Her fingertips brushed the velour of the arm, and hope sparked, lighting the darkness swamping her chest.
Shivering with cold, she covered her other hand and repeated the movement until she could reach over the arm of the sofa. Pushing herself upright forced glass deeper into her knees, and she whimpered at the pain. Sliding her hands down the side, she was able to get the piping of a cushion between her fingers and fought to pull the soaked fabric over the arm. The simple task made her arms and lungs burn.
Thankfully her fear had turned to anger—at her situation. And herself. Anger strong enough to haul the cushion the final few inches over the side.
Glass flew from the cushion, grazing her face. She flipped the cushion so the side protected from the glass turned up, and she dropped it on the floor. She painfully leaned into one knee while she brushed glass from the other and set it on the cushion. Then did the same with the first.
She rested there a minute, relishing the feel of a glass-free surface, even if it was squishy and cold with rainwater. Once the pain ebbed and she’d caught her breath, she straightened and used the arm of the sofa to help her stand.
Muttley encouraged her with a bark of excitement.
“I’m getting there, buddy.”
With covered hands, she brushed glass from the arm and leaned over it, tentatively searching for more softness. She touched a blanket, got hold of a couple of throw pillows, and dragged them all to her, careful to set them down beyond the cushion where she stood with the glass-free side up.
Turning, she crouched again and positioned the blanket—the first ladder rung toward safety. Out of breath again, she paused before making her way across the protected floor.
She’d done it.
“Oh my God!” She’d actually done it. She could use these props to get her out of the glass and reach Muttley. Make sure he was okay. Then she could call 911.
There would be insurance, cleanup, repairs, and new furniture to deal with, but she’d done it. She’d survived an emergency on her own with only superficial scrapes.
She made her way across the glass to her dog, and this time when the tears came, they originated from someplace different. A complicated combination of relief and bitterness at the injustice of it all swirled together to make a giant knot in her stomach.
She’d pushed through, found her independence, and proved to herself she could do it. On her own terms. Yet the one person she wanted to share the moment with was gone.
Muttley used the pillows she’d thrown down as a bridge to meet her halfway, licking her face when she reached out.
She made it to his dog bed and swiveled, dropping her butt to the soft, dry surface. When she caught her breath, she could tend to her wounds, change into dry clothes, and call emergency crews to help with the house.
Yup, Mackenzie was officially self-reliant.
And she was heartbreakingly miserable.
Hunter’s stomach rolled as he turned onto Mackenzie’s street.
The rain came down in sheets, filling the already-flooded streets of downtown and turning his usual fifteen-minute trip to Mackenzie’s into an hour and change—an agonizing hour spent thinking aboutMackenzie and realizing that the guy lucky enough to spend his life with a woman like Mackenzie wouldn’t hesitate to put her needs first.
And Hunter was going to be that guy. Was going to spend his life showing her just how special she was.
First, though, he had to convince her to give him another chance. And every second he wasted driving through puddles was another second she was left thinking she wasn’t worth the trouble.
The darkened streets and downed poles only added to the stress. But when Hunter pulled into her driveway and saw the destruction, his heart went from pounding to thundering.
Branches littered the walkway, her front porch swing was hanging by one chair, and the giant oak behind her house was gone.
The truck was barely in park when Hunter leaped out and raced up to her front porch. Calling her name, he shoved through the front door, and his chest nearly exploded.
