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Running.
The air was icy. The snow froze my bare feet, then began slicing through them. As soon as we were out of sight of the lake house, Fyre stopped and took off his shoes, putting his socks on my feet. If they hadn’t been several sizes too large, I’m sure he would have tried to make me wear his loafers, too.
The socks helped, but only some. Once they were wet, the numbing cold was back. I remember Fyre doubling back to the lake house after a short while, and I couldn’t understand why he was taking me back to Red. I thought I’d done something wrong. I started crying like an imbecile, forcing Fyre to stop and reassure me.
Trust me, Charlotte.
That’s when Arrow came bounding up to us through the snow, nearly bowling me over when she saw me. It’s impossible to feel fear, or shame, or pity for yourself when a sixty-pound ball of fur is trying to lick you to death. But Fyre didn’t let our reunion go on for too long. We were still in danger, and moments later, on the move again.
I remember the dull, gloomy day turning to twilight. But not the fall of night.
“Where’s your dad?” I ask Arrow, getting another enthusiastic lick on the cheek for my efforts. “Okay,” I say through a chuckle, my mouth pulling into a reluctant grin. “I’m glad to see you too, sweetheart.”
The Labrador comes to sit beside me, and I huddle up against her warm body as we stare into the fire. Sensation begins spreading into my limbs. Either Red’s medicine is starting to wear off, or the fire has finally managed to warm me up past freezing. That’s when all the aches and pains return. As uncomfortable as they are, I welcome them. At least I know I’ll live.
My eyes start to mist up. “He saved me, you know,” I whisper to Arrow, wrapping my arm around her and giving her a soft squeeze.
I’m not the only who’s injured. There’s a patch of dried blood on Arrow’s shoulder. It doesn’t seem to be bugging her, though, so there’s that to be grateful for. “Your dad’s a hero.”
“A hero would have gotten you out before that monster laid a hand on you.”
I spin around, giving Fyre a relieved smile when he walks into the firelight. Arrow is up in an instant, taking her glorious heat with her as she runs up to say hi. Fyre ruffles her ears, sparing her a fond, relaxed smile that warms me more than the Labrador’s body heat.
I don’t know where the thought comes from, but I’m suddenly picturing Fyre beaming that same smile down on the dark head of a toddler.
Ourtoddler.
Blinking rapidly, I turn back to the fire, huddling into my sheets. I haven’t planned for the future in a long, long time. My therapists never liked it when I told them I saw nothing when I looked ahead five, ten, fifteen years. How could I envision a future when I could barely make it through one day without wanting to kill myself? Seems my brush with death had made me sentimental.
A loud thump draws me out of the miserable thought—Fyre dropping a huge duffel bag beside me. I frown at it, then at Fyre as he crouches beside it, unzipping the top. Is he wearing different clothes?
“Here.” He hands me a pair of leggings, a thermal vest, and some thick socks.
“Where did you get these?”
“Cabin a few miles away. Hiking enthusiasts.”
I try to picture a scenario where I won’t freeze to death the moment I take off Fyre’s jacket. My imagination isn’t good enough. “Can’t we just go there?”
“Not sure they’d appreciate the company. There was champagne and roses.”
“You broke into their cabin while they were there?”
He shrugs, removing a tent from the enormous hiking bag. “I guess I could have waited until they’d gone to sleep. But from the sounds of things, they were going to be awake for another few hours.” He glances over at me, then at my feet, still wrapped in the sheet. “You might have lost a few toes in the process.”
When he realizes I’m in no hurry to dress, he frowns at me and grabs the socks out of my hands, going to my feet and tugging them on. “Do you have a death wish?”
“It’s freezing,” I complain, my toes curling as a wave of icy air washes over them. Thankfully, Fyre quickly tugs on the thick socks and starts rubbing my feet between his hands. Prickles of pain erupt, but I grimace and bear it, knowing it’s just blood flowing back into my icy extremities.
“Better?” he asks, glancing over at me with his impossibly dark eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Now the clothes.”
I groan, huddling deeper into his jacket. “It’s too cold.”
He looks as if he’s going to argue, then he dips his head just a fraction. “I’ll set up the tent. You can change inside once I’m done.”
