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“I’m okay,” I promise, wading to the edge of the stream and climbing back onto semi-solid ground. I hurry to where Lizzie is still holding the rope, trying to regain her feet with only one working ankle. “I’ve got you,” I say, reaching to wrap my arms around her waist.
She’s stone cold and shivering so hard that my teeth start chattering again, but I can’t help the moment of relief as I feel her in my arms. Solid and there.
“I’ve got you,” I say again in her ear. “Let go, Lizzie. I have you. Just hold onto me.”
She transfers her grip, her arms now around my neck. The little crescents of her nails dig into my back. Her breathing is erratic against my neck.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. We’re going home.”
Getting back up the slope is a matter of patience and care. With Lizzie wrapped around me and my weight now shifted, I take each step as it comes, navigating the safest route over sliding leaves and unstable mud. Lizzie says nothing, she just buries her face in my shoulder and trusts me to keep us safe.
By the time we’re over the ridge and on the walkway again, I worry that Lizzie has stopped shivering. Fearing hypothermia, I wrap my arms around her and hurry through the woods. The sooner I have her home and warm, the better.
“I… I can walk, you know,” she breathes in my ear at one point, but I ignore her. She wiggles her foot as if to prove it.
I continue to ignore her.
If I put her down, I might lose her. To the storm, to the woods, to New York—or to David.
I swallow.
I’m not putting this woman down, I vow. I’ll carry her forever if I have to.
