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She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t move. Oh my God, I think she’s dead.
I slice the airbag open and it deflates. White powder coats everything, even Mary’s face. A trickle of blood slides down her forehead. She looks so pale, but it’s impossible to tell if it’s because she isn’t breathing, or from the powder.
“Mary!” I yell as loud as my vocal cords will allow.
Watching her like a hawk stalking a field mouse, I wait and notice that she’s…
“She’s alive!” I call out to Hardy. “She’s breathing.”
“Good.” I can hear the relief in his voice. “Now get her the fuck out here,” he yells back.
“O-Owen?” She finally stirs and her voice is music to my ears.
“Yeah, babe. It’s me,” I soothe her and saw my knife through her seatbelt. “You’re gonna be okay. I swear. Just help me get you out of here.”
“Owen? Hardy? Oh, thank God. I’m so sorry,” she starts blubbering. “I never should have left. I made a huge mistake,” she sobs.
“Don’t worry about any of that now.” I finally manage to separate her seat belt. “We can talk about all that later. Right now, let’s get you home.” I run my hands down her arms, checking for broken bones.
“Home,” she answers dreamily. “I like that. I want to go home. Home to my men.”
“Are you hurt? Do you think you broke anything?”
“No, I just hit my head pretty hard, but I think I’m good.”
“Can you climb up out the back window?”
“The back window?” Her eyebrows slide upward and she finally takes a look around the car. “Oh, uh, I’m not sure.” She bites her lip. “But I’ll try.”
I help Mary ease free from her seat and push on her ass as she climbs toward the back window.
“Give me your hands,” Hardy growls.
For once, she doesn’t argue with him. Suddenly, she’s yanked free from the car. Of course, Hardy doesn’t do shit to try to help me out. I’ve got to inch my own way out bit by bit. Eventually, I make it back out into the daylight, feeling a bit like I did when I was a kid and my friends and I used to make epic snow castles inside huge banks the plows pushed to the sides of the roads.
I hop down from the washout of snow and join Hardy and Mary in the Jeep. They’re both silent, so I join in, not saying a peep as Hardy drives us back to the cabin. So many emotions swirl up inside me, first of all, relief. I thought she might have been dead.
Still, under that elation is other, conflicting feelings. Like sadness that she even tried to sneak away and anger that she didn’t think enough of us to say goodbye. I look from Hardy’s face to Mary’s and can see that we’re all struggling with this. We’re all shell-shocked by this craziness. Now, I can’t help but wonder, is it too late to work it all out?
13
Mary
The guys still haven’t said much to me. Other than getting me to count their fingers and checking me for signs of concussion or injuries. Owen has been a bit more friendly than Hardy, but both of them are staying pretty tight-lipped.
When Hardy yanked me free from the back of the car, I tried to hug him. I tried to snuggle against his chest and get lost in his strong arms, but he grabbed me and moved back. All he said was to get my ass in the car.
Not exactly feeling the warm and fuzzies from that.
Can I really blame him? I tried to abandon them. I tried to run away and put them both behind me forever. I deserve their cold shoulders. I deserve worse.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that fate or destiny or whatever is playing its hand. I’m not proud that I tried to take off the way I did, but I did it. And instead of being in my lonely condo in the city right now, I’m nestled on the couch in front of a roaring fire while the two men I care for most in this world, the two men that make my heart swell three sizes bigger like the Grinch, they’re here. They’re taking care of me.
They saved me.
“She’s fine,” I hear Hardy snarl at Owen.
“Dude, she was passed out. That’s serious.”
“We looked her over, we’re keeping an eye on her, she’ll be fine.”
“Guys?”
They both look over at me, Owen’s blue eyes soften when they settle on my face, but Hardy is the opposite. I can see the wall he’s building around himself and I can see he plans to keep me on the outside of it.
“What?” Hardy doesn’t try to hide his anger.
“Can, uh, do you think we can talk for a sec?”
Owen walks toward me, I can see that he wants to talk to me too. Hardy, on the other hand, he roots to the spot, crossing his arms like huge oak branches over his chest. “Oh, so now you want to talk?”
