Page 163 of The Fire Line

Harris tapped his cheek. “Come on, Jay.”

Nothing.

He tried again, harder this time, and felt his own breath break when Jay still did not respond.

“Come on, baby. Open your eyes.”

The word escaped before Harris could think about it. His burned hand closed around Jay’s jaw, and for once the pain barely registered.

For an instant he saw Jay walking through an airport, disappearing toward a gate—the future Harris had spent weeks dreading and would have given anything to guarantee now.

“Don’t leave me.” His hand shook against the back of Jay’s neck. “Please.”

Jay coughed.

The first sound was small. Then his whole body seized around a deep, violent fit that dragged air into him by force. Harris hauled him onto his side and supported him against his chest while the coughing tore through him.

When it finally passed, Jay sagged against him and opened his eyes slightly.

“Harris?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

His gaze slipped away again.

“Where…”

“Ridge. You’re with me.”

Another cough cut him off. Harris held him through it, one hand at the back of his neck until the spasm eased.

“Stay awake.”

Jay’s eyes closed.

“No. Look at me.”

They opened again, barely.

“Tired.”

“I know.”

That was all Jay had, and for the moment it was enough.

Harris gave him a small mouthful of water and settled him against the granite. The radio produced nothing but static. The first-aid kit held gauze, tape, burn gel, antiseptic wipes, and a handful of things Harris could barely identify in the weak flashlight beam, but he managed the burn one-handed as best he could, wrapping his palm and wrist while keeping one eye on Jay.

Every few minutes, Harris touched his shoulder and said his name. Jay’s eyes opened each time. Harris asked for nothing more.

The cold arrived sometime after midnight. Neither of them had dressed for a night outside; their jackets smelled of smoke, and part of Jay’s had burned through at the shoulder. Harris settled with his back against the granite and drew Jay against his chest, closing both sides of his jacket around as much of him as possible.

Jay’s head rested beneath Harris’s chin while Harris kept one hand over his ribs, feeling the shallow but steady rise beneath his palm.

For most of Harris’s life, that had been the bargain he made with the world: watch closely enough and nothing terrible would happen unnoticed. Check the fences. Watch the weather. Learn the first uneven step before a horse went lame. Keep Rain safe because Nell had asked.

He had watched Nell die anyway.

Tonight he had watched Jay disappear against his back despite everything Harris knew how to do.