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It could have been hours, hanging there, before the sound penetrated. Somebody, shouting her name. Yelling it, over and over.
“…goddamnit, are you OK? Lily! Answer me! Lily!”
Bruno’s voice, rough with fear.
Lily pulled in air to respond, but it all wheezed out in a useless squeak. Her lips felt numb, cold. They wouldn’t seal to form words.
He kept calling. She kept trying. Finally, she got it out. Small, but audible. “B-b-b-bruno?”
Silence, for a stunned moment, and then an excited clattering shower of small stones tumbled down onto her head. Dirt showered into her already stinging eyes, and she flinched, trying to blink the stuff away. “Lily?” he yelled again. “Lily? You OK?”
She looked up again, eyes streaming. There was his big silhouette against the blinding white sky, clinging to the hillside above. “Y-y-yeah.”
“You’re too far down.” His voice shook. “I can’t reach you. Christ, I wish I had some rope, but it would take twenty minutes to get to the cabin and back. Can you hang on for a few? I’ll find a way to get closer.”
“Um.” Too complicated a question to answer. Hanging on. That was the thing. She’d concentrate on doing it, not talking about it.
Seconds ground by while Bruno struggled and cursed, sending down a constant stream of rocks and dirt onto her. Then she heard him calling again. She concentrated, to put his words together.
“…best I can do, to pull you up. Try, OK? Just let go, see if you can stretch up at least about eight, ten inches? Lily, goddamnit, answer me! Can you hear me? Hey! Lily!”
She coughed, cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she croaked out.
“Yeah, what?” he snarled.
She sucked in air, gritting her teeth. “Yeah, I’ll try.”
Her bleeding hands hurt, but she started scrabbling against the slippery rock face, trying to get her numb feet up over the edge of the cliff. Neat trick, with knees shackled by slipping-down jeans. She finally found a lip of rock that didn’t crumble. Wedged her foot against it.
She lifted herself, almost screaming as pain redistributed itself in arms, shoulders, hands, as blood enthusiastically pumped into new, hurt places. She scrambled up, reached…
Bruno’s big, warm hand fastened around her wrist, and pulled.
She yelped, she couldn’t help it, but followed where his hand pulled her, supporting herself with her feet whenever she could.
And when she couldn’t, his strong grip never wavered.
Then they were crawling, on a slope, no longer a sheer cliff face. He pulled her up next to him on a narrow, almost flat ledge where they could both perch, and yanked her jeans up over her hips with a jerk. “You have a tough time keeping your clothes on,” he complained.
“Your own fault.” Her voice was a ragged thread.
His teeth flashed. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, babe.”
“That’s not what I meant, you oversexed doofus. I meant, it’s your own fault for buying my jeans too big. I told you I was an eight.”
He jerked her close and gave her a long, hard, breath-stealing kiss. She leaned into it like he was the fountain of life itself.
He drew away. “Speaking of oversexed doofuses,” he said. “You gotta love those panties. That red lace thong is so dramatic against the wintery landscape. And your ass, wow. It glows. Like a full moon.”
She stifled the giggles. They hurt too much. “Shut up about my ass, dog. Now is not the time.”
He kissed her again. “You’re really special, Lily.”
“Oh, really? Gee. I’m touched.”
“Most of the women I date, if it lasts all night, it ends with coffee and pastry, maybe exchanged phone numbers, if I’m feeling really brave. But mornings with you, I mostly end up just killing people.”
She shrugged, and holy God, it hurt. “You should have put me on the bus to Anywhere, USA while you had the chance.”
