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“Bethany!” he shouted. The cold burned his mouth and nose and made his eyes water. “Bethany!”
No answer but the wind’s howling gusts.
He turned in a circle, staying low to the ground as he searched for signs of her. Just at the edge of his vision there was a small indent. He moved closer and saw her tracks. She’d gotten this close to the lodge and doubled back, no doubt convinced she’d come the wrong way. He checked the compass and ran, following the nearly imperceptible footprints.
His chest tightened with each lungful of frozen air he gulped, and his raspy breath was all he heard above the crunch of crusted snow beneath his feet. Keeping count of his paces, he checked the compass again and called out, scanning the woods around him. A few feet further, and he came to an area where the tracks had been matted down but the direction was impossible to tell. She must have circled back to this spot several times, thinking if she continued to move out from it she would eventually find the path back to the cabin.
Which way had she gone? He whipped his head from side to side and called her again. If she was still on her feet, he had a chance of finding her. Balling his fists under his arms, he cursed, took a deep breath, and picked a direction. He prayed he guessed right. Without a coat, she wouldn’t have much time left.
—
Bethany was freezing to death. Her limbs were stiff, and her breath came in frantic pants as she staggered first one way then the other, desperation her only guide. Nothing stood out beyond the trees and the white space where ground blended seamlessly into sky. She tried to focus on her steps, but her balance was gone. And then she was down, hands buried in the snow, heart racing, sobs choking her throat. She struggled to get up, but the landscape sloped dizzily to the side, and her legs went out from beneath her.
Tears froze at the corners of her eyes as she stared at the falling snow, and the world spun around her in a sickening blur. What had she done?
As her senses dulled to the elements, her mind cleared, bringing one thought into focus. This was the end. The end of a meaningless life that had been less about living than she’d ever been willing to admit. Ryan had been her opportunity, her chance to change, to experience life instead of plan for it later. He was the only man who could break through her armor and make her feel. For months he’d made her angry, he’d made her laugh, made her try harder at everything. And last night, he’d made her want so badly she couldn’t deny herself a moment longer. No one affected her like he did. And that was the reason she pushed him away. Not because of his job history or the fact that he believed in his instinct. It was because he made her want to live life. That had terrified her, so she’d run.
But here, now, unable to push herself off the icy ground, running wasn’t an option. There was no more hiding from the truth, and finally she didn’t want to.
—
Ryan jogged forward another twenty feet before he stopped, catching movement off to the side, barely visible.
“Bethany!” he yelled, but got no response.
He dodged left, mentally noting his direction, and went another ten feet before he caught the movement again.
“Oh, God,” he wheezed as he sprinted toward the crumpled, snow-covered figure. “Bethany! Beth, baby, stand up. Stand up.” Slipping out of the jacket, he patted off the loose snow accumulated on her shoulders, chest and back and wrapped her in his coat so it overlapped across her chest.
“R-r-ryan,” was all she said before she fell against him.
“I’ve got you. Come on now.” He lifted her into his arms and, panic slicing through him, held her against him as he ran back through th
e woods in the direction of the lodge. “Hold on, Beth. We’re almost there. Stay with me now.”
With the jacket wrapped around her, he couldn’t be sure if she was still awake, but he had to keep moving to get her inside. He stomped over the ice and through the thicker snow where no path had been forged, counting out the paces until finally the cabin’s heavy log structure came into view.
He slammed through the front door and ran through the lodge, trailing clumps of snow behind him. With Bethany clutched in his arms, he didn’t stop praying until he reached his room. Setting his parcel down on the bed so that her back rested against the wall, his heart began to beat again when he realized she was still conscious and shivering within the tightly wrapped, down-filled jacket.
The room had its own thermostat, and he adjusted the temperature to blow in warmer heat then spun back to the bed.
“Goddamnit, Beth, what were you thinking going out like this?” He cursed the desperate edge to his voice and yanked open the jacket, taking a handful of the throw she’d wrapped around herself into his fist. It was pathetically thin but had probably saved her life. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers then took it off her, dropping it on the floor.
“We’ve got to get you heated up. Your clothes need to come off.” She didn’t resist, didn’t respond beyond the chatter of her teeth. Not that he would have stopped if she had. This was about her life now. Pulling the buttons and clasps of her clothing free, he stripped the cold, wet garments off her mottled skin and tossed them aside. When she was completely bare, he pulled the blankets and comforter over her and began to strip himself. “Beth, I’m getting in here with you. You’re hypothermic. The best way to warm you is—”
She nodded slightly. “Sk-k-kiiinnnn t-t-to sk-kinnn.”
Thank God, she was coherent. He smiled for her, though his gut was twisted with fear. He needed to look confident. “So this was your plan all along. Really, Beth, there are less risky ways to get me into bed.”
It sounded lame even to himself.
He shucked his pants and looked up at her. She held the edge of the comforter against her neck in a trembling fist. He lifted it up just enough to slide underneath and pulled her into his arms.
“I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re okay....” He said it again and again, speaking into her hair, her neck, closing his eyes and holding her tight when it sounded more like a plea than reassurance. He said it praying it would be true. He ran every damn word he’d said to her that morning through his head and wished he could take them all back. She was so fragile, so vulnerable in his arms, and it was because of a damn fight with him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her forehead. “So sorry.”
He held her close to him, stroking her skin until her breathing returned to normal. With her arms tucked into his sides, her palms against his chest, she turned her face up to look at him. “How did you find me?”
