“Father won’t leave you here,” Oliver says, kneeling in the muck beside him, his own clothes torn from a similar rush throughthe water. “I can’t wait, you know I can’t. But I’ll tell him where you are and he’ll send someone. I promise I’ll hurry.”
Theo grabs him by the arm, hauling him back down. “Don’t. Please don’t go, we can make it back together.”
They could. It might even be easier to traverse the rugged landscape of the forest by leaning on each other, but that was never the plan, and they both know it.
“I can’t,” Oliver says.
“Let him be the one who loses. Why must we play his games? Let’s just go back together. What can he do anyway?”
“He could disinherit us both. You know that.”
“And would that be so bad?”
Oliver scoffs, getting to his feet again to tower over his brother. “Maybe not for you. You could make it on your own. I couldn’t. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take. I’ll hurry so they send someone fast. Stay here.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I have to.”
And then he’s gone, leaving Theo writhing in the dirt with a dislocated shoulder and a concussion from being swept into the rocks as he slid down the river. It’ll take twice as long to get medical care. Twice as long for pain relief. Twice as long to get a drink of water that isn’t contaminated since they both lost their packs.
He is dehydrated and hallucinating by the time the rescue team finds him, seeing shapes between the forest trees, covered in bug bites and leeches. His brother values his trust fund more than his family, and this is the first time he’s been forced to come to terms with that. Sure, he had suspected before, but their previous battles like this had never ended in such extreme bloodshed.
There had been trickery and mild violence. Enough to gain the upper hand, which they would trade back and forth as theyears wore on, but they always made it within a few miles of the helicopter zone together until all hell broke loose to be the first to reach it.
‘I expected more resilience from you by now,’ is all his father said once he was hooked up to an IV back in his own bed again, his voice full of disappointment as if he didn’t send both his children into the wild alone on purpose.
* * *
Now, on the cot, with pain carving lines through his vision, he sees Oliver’s face more vividly. The memory of his brother’s eyes, apologetic but slightly relieved to leave him behind, burns hotter than the headache. That look was branded into him like a scar. The betrayal stung worse than the river water in his lungs or his shoulder hanging loose from its socket. Blood could be just as merciless as strangers, often worse.
Some part of him believed he could trust Oliver more than his father. After that day, he accepted that he could trust no one but himself.
Not his brother. Not his blood. Not the woman who claimed to love him. And now, not even Nora, who abandoned him in a dusty jail cell to head to the wildlife center alone.
That had to be where she’s gone. He would only hold her back. Maybe he can’t even blame her for shucking him like trash. Maybe he shouldn’t be devastated even as his heart twists like the parts of his skull that rub together. She is better off without him anyway. He would rather she make it out of this alive than stay back to tend to him.
But god, the ache in his chest is almost worse than the one splitting his head open. He remembers the warmth of her palm against his cheek, the way she scolded him in that quiet, fiercevoice about smashing his skull against the wall. Especially the way she had looked at him like he was worth something more than money or the lifestyle he could offer to anyone who latched on. For the first time in his cursed life, he had almost believed it.
He lets out a groan, rolling until he falls from the bed onto the floor, dragging himself toward the cinder block wall. If she’s gone, then he has no reason left to stay either. He isn’t breaking a promise if she isn’t here to check that he kept his word. So he lays a hand on the cool wall, presses his face there as his head breaks apart from the inside out, and tears stream down his cheeks so hot they burn.
At least she won’t find him after. At least he won’t turn into one of those things.
He only wishes for the sweet sound of her voice one more time. To feel the soft touch of her hand or the gentle caress of her arms as she holds him. It’s weakness that his father would insist he let go of, but nothing matters now and so he replays their interactions best he can through waves of nausea, pulls his head back, and slams it into the wall once, twice, three times in a rhythmic swing that finally cuts through the pain in a blissful all all-encompassing wave of relief.
It’s only when his vision blackens instead of blurs that he sees her again.
Chapter 15
From the moment she woke up in the middle of a plane crash, Theo has been by her side. Nora hasn’t had to face a single second of this ordeal alone, and she misses the security of his presence as she creeps down a snow-covered side street in Barrow.
There is a haunting silence that only the crunch of her boots breaks with every step toward the pharmacy. She can do this alone. She has to. He’s counting on her to bring back something strong enough to dull his pain. If she fails…well, if she fails, then she’s not sure how long he’ll last or how long she can keep him from shoving the rifle under his chin.
Nora is no stranger to pain. She has felt plenty herself over the years, both physical and emotional, but whatever Theo is feeling now is something more akin to torture. He hasn’t let on that it could get this bad, and now that they’re in the thick of it, she only hopes they can make it out the other side.
She would miss him if he were gone. She would mourn him. That’s unacceptable because she’s all out of space in her heart to mourn anyone ever again. Never mind that when she thinks of him, her heart does a delicate fluttering squeeze that she can’t control. She would miss him because she’s fallen for him, and damn if that isn’t one of the most terrifying decisions her heart has made.
What’s done is done. That decision is what has her alone in a snowstorm, hoping a bear won’t pop out of some nook or cranny to drag her to her death.
