My foot catches on something, I don't know what, and I'm falling.
I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. Pain explodes through my head.
And then everything goes soft and blurry.
I hear Callum shouting my name, feel his hands on me, but it's all distant. Like I'm underwater.
Something cold is pressedagainst my forehead.
I blink my eyes open slowly. My head throbs in a way that makes me want to close my eyes again and disappear back into the darkness.
I'm not outside anymore. I'm in bed. In the cabin. Under the covers.
“Hey, don't move.” Callum's voice, soft and close. “Stay still. You took a nasty fall out there. Hit your head pretty bad.”
I turn toward his voice and instantly regret it. Pain spikes through my skull and I wince, sucking in a sharp breath.
“Easy.” His hand is on my shoulder, keeping me from moving too fast. “Just breathe. You're okay.”
Am I? Nothing feels okay. My head is pounding, my body aches.
I look down, noticing the baggy sweatpants. An oversized hoodie that definitely isn't mine. Both dry and warm.
“You changed my clothes.”
“You were soaked from the snow,” he says.
He sits on the edge of the bed, and now that my vision is clearing, I can see the worry etched into his face. “Hypothermia's no joke. Had to get you out of those wet things.”
Heat floods my face despite the ice pack against my forehead. “Oh, great. Taking advantage while I was unconscious.”
“I was takingcareof you.”
The words are sharp, but there's something underneath. Something that sounds like hurt.
I close my eyes, immediately feeling guilty. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean…”
“It's fine.” But his voice says it's not fine.
We sit in silence for a moment, the only sound the wind still howling outside. The storm hasn't let up. Of course it hasn't.
Callum shifts, reaching for something on the nightstand. “Here. Drink this.”
He hands me a mug of tea, helping me sit up carefully when I struggle to do it myself. His hand stays on my back, steadying me, and I hate how good and safe it feels.
I take a sip. Chamomile, still a bit warm, sweet with honey. Perfect.
“You need to stay awake for a bit,” he says, settling back on the edge of the bed. “Make sure you don't have a concussion. Can you tell me your name?”
“Piper.”
“Full name.”
“Piper Elizabeth Dawson.”
“Good. What day is it?”
“Friday. How long was I out?”
