“I’ll get the truck and swing around,” Archer said as he jogged out of the hospital and into the afternoon rain.
I was suddenly exhausted, and I sank against Brooks’ side. He brushed a kiss to my forehead, and I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
He held me tight as I cried in public. But I couldn’t stop it. The tears came on their own time in their own way.
When a few minutes had passed, I pulled back.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Archer’s waiting,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”
I grabbed his shirt and peered up at him. “You’ll stay with me, right? You won’t leave me?”
He cradled my cheeks in his large hands. “I won’t leave you.”
I swallowed another bout of fresh tears and nodded. Brooks helped me into the back seat of the truck and then folded his long body into the spot next to me.
Archer leaned over and adjusted the front passenger seat to give Brooks more leg room.
“Thanks,” Brooks said.
“No problem. You guys buckled in?”
Brooks grabbed my seat belt and gingerly clipped it in and then did the same for himself. “We’re good.”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep, but I was told to wait a few more hours before conking out.
At least I was warm.
Archer turned on the radio and adjusted the station to classic country. I didn’t complain. I was just glad that no one had the inclination to speak.
I pressed my ear to Brooks’ chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.
It reminded me that he was alive. We both were.
And it was time to face the truth.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The Apartment
Brooks put the kettle on for tea and then sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. I was in bed, propped up against the wall, cocooned in a blanket.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Stupid.”
He looked at me, his gaze sharp. “You’re not stupid.”
“I’m all kinds of stupid,” I said, wetting my dry lips. “Stupid choice number 1: I went to Prospector’s Peak without any bear spray. Stupid choice number 2: I walked alone on a trail. Stupid choice number 3: I dropped my phone and didn’t know until I fell in a literal mine shaft . . . Should I go on?”
“Don’t think you have to, Freckles. That’s enough of a list to keep my blood boiling for years.”
“I lost my glasses,” I muttered. “I have a spare pair, though.”
“Where are they? I’ll get them for you.”
