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ChapterForty-Three
SPENCER
Oh, God. Please. Help me help her. My heart’s beating out of my chest, and every cell of me is on fire. I’m staggering down the trail, Tess cradled in my arms. The ranch might as well be a lightyear away.
Am I doing the right thing? Should I have left her on the road and gone for help? She didn’t have time to tell me before she lost consciousness. So I’m stuck with what we were doing before she fainted. I just need to bring her back, call an ambulance, save her life.
“SOMEBODY HELP!” I shout this into the sky for the third time. “Can anybody hear me?”
I stumble, then recover after a few jagged steps. I refuse to drop her, but this pace is tough while carrying another human. Maybe I should’ve set her down and run ahead. I certainly could’ve moved faster that way. But in the end, I couldn’t leave her.
I’ll never leave Tess.
I caught her as she collapsed, scooping her up, and settling her in my arms. Then I took off, my blisters bleeding, lungs heaving like sick bagpipes as I barrel back to camp. The road seems to be stretching like taffy, growing longer as we go. All I want is to save Tess. I’d do anything. I just wish I knew what.
Cut open her wound and suck out the poison?
Go back in time and throw myself on top of the snake?
Go back even further and skip the college where Troy and I became roommates, and I met Clem and lost her to my non-friend, and spent the past four years making idiotic choices because of a woman I didn’t love. I never loved Clem.
I love Tess.
“I LOVE YOU!” I shout this as loud as I can, and I swear I feel her limp body shift against my chest. I just need her to be okay. I need her to wake up so I can tell her—to her face—everything I’ve buried since we met. The way her eyes lit me up when we danced at the gala. The way my pulse races every time she calls me Clark Kent. She says it like she’s teasing, but underneath I felt like her secret superhero. I probably only liked Lucy so much because the red hair reminded me of Tess.
It was Tess all along.
Always Tess.
“SOMEBODY HELP!”
In the distance, around the bend, I hear people yelling back. They heard me. Someone hears. “CALL 911!” I shout. “WE NEED AN AMBULANCE!” I’m panting, out of breath. I don’t think I can say another word, let alone shout again. But I got the words out that I needed. The professionals will rescue her now. I couldn’t rescue her.
I trip and go down on a knee, but I don’t lose my hold on Tess. I pull her closer, bracing us for a fall that doesn’t happen. A few quick gasps, and I’m back up again, my arms and legs screaming louder than I did. I’m almost there.
“We’re almost there,” I whisper to Tess.
“Where are you?” two voices call out. Maddie and Daniel hurry around the corner carrying the first-aid backpack. They freeze at the sight of Tess and me, faces twisting in shock and fear. To their credit, their recovery is quick. Within seconds they’re on either side of me, reaching out, arms underneath Tess, buoying her up.
I’m not alone.
I never was, of course. Not really. But now Maddie and Daniel are here with us, two concrete people beside me, absorbing the weight. Not the weight of Tess’s body. She might as well be a feather in my arms for all the adrenaline charging through me. I’m talking about the weight of responsibility. The loss of control is an unfamiliar anchor.
I used to be the guy who’s always prepared. The man with a plan. Never caught off guard.
Now everything in my life is a blindside.
And as I stumble out of the trailhead, the ranch spread wide before us, counselors herd kids out of the way. I look down at Tess and know for sure my life’s changed forever. She’s changed me.
No turning back. And I don’t even want to.
* * *
Here’s what I learn in the hours after the incident:
1. Snake bites aren’t typically fatal in humans, especially when treated with anti-venom. (Also called anti-venin—who knew?)
2. Shockcanbe life-threatening, which is what was happening to Tess. Her blood pressure dropped, and she passed out. She could have died. But she didn’t die. Thank God she didn’t die.
