Page 6 of Really Poplar


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I think I took at least ten years off my life.

The SAT phone rings beside me and I jump to grab it, carefully making sure that every part of Treaty is covered all the way up to her chin. Then I dart out of the room and close the door, fighting the urge to run back in the room and climb into that bed beside her.

The fire in the bedroom is built up to about boiling to get her warmed up quickly. She was practically frozen when I finally got her back to my cabin. Frozen but yet I could feel that she was running a fever.

The wound was gaping, seeping her blood all over my couch and I swear to God I almost punched a hole in the wall when I saw it. How the hell did that happen? Did someone hurt her?

If they did, I’ll hunt them down and kill them. I can’t even believe that tiny woman managed to get as far up the mountain as she did, considering how hurt she was. She’s amazing.

Which is exactly why I shouldn’t have anything to do with her. I should get her off this mountain as quickly as possible, to a hospital and then stay the hell away from her.

I’m not good enough for a woman like her.

The phone stops ringing while I’m standing there lost in my own thoughts and I turn back to the room, wanting to be beside her. Wanting to see that she’s alright. Make sure that she’s healing right, that nobody is anywhere near her.

That she stays with me forever and never looks at another man.

Holy hell! I need to get a damn grip.

The phone rings in my hand and I almost pitch it across the damn room.

“What!” I growl into it.

“Jesus! What the hell, man! I’m just calling to check in on you. Are you back at your cabin? Did you see any sign of her?”

I want to lie. Want to keep him from coming up here. From taking her away from me. My heart races and my tongue dries out.

I’m an asshole. She needs help.

“I found her,” I growl into the phone.

“Shit! Great! I’ll take the missing person down then. Can you get her down to her car in the morning and I’ll meet her there. Send her on her way with a warning about watching the damn weather in the morning.

Growling under my breath at the thought of my friend telling my woman anything, I clear my throat and struggle to answer without telling him to fuck off.

“She can’t drive, man.”

“Is she alright?” he asks quietly. I know what he’s asking. If she’s dead and it makes my heart fucking stop, thinking that I might have found her too late.

Clearing my throat, I sigh. “I think she will be but right now she’s got a horrible wound in her side and she’s running a fever on the parts of her that aren’t fucking frozen.”

“Dammit, I can’t get a copter out there in the middle of the night to get her. How bad is this wound? What the hell happened?”

“I haven’t really gotten much out of her since she’s been in and out of consciousness since I found her. But the wound was in her side and it was fucking deep. I got it cleaned out and stitched up. She might end up with a scar because I’m no surgeon, but I think that it’ll heal up good.”

“I forgot that you were a medic in the Army.”

I shake my head. “Not really. Just the bare rudiments of field dressing and such. Just enough to get one of the guys back to where a real medic could take care of them if something happened, and we didn’t have medical help available. More like emergency situation.”

“I’d say that she’s really lucky you found her, buddy.”

I snort. “We both know that’s not the case.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, motherfucker. You got her all taken care of and in the morning, I’ll send a chopper after her and get her off your hands. Then you’ll be all alone on your mountain just the way you like.”

Stabbing pains hit my chest and I rub it… hard. “Yeah. That’ll be good. Thanks, talk to you later.”

I hang up without waiting for his answer then proceed to just stare at it.

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