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The heavy slam of my door once I climb inside mutes the thundering storm. Evie’s uncontrollable chattering fills the confines of my Jeep and prompts me out of my clothes. I toss the dripping jacket into the back.
“Lift your arms. We have to get you out of these clothes.”
She participates by limply lifting her arms with as much strength as I assume she can muster. She’s been in this cold rain for a while, and I know from experience it doesn’t take a snowstorm to become hypothermic. Weakness will set in along with muscle cramps if we don’t get her warmed up.
I ease each arm out, then pull the sopping material over her head. The sweatshirt lands with a splat on the floormat. My dry sweatshirt, warmed by body heat, comes next, and I immediately place it over her head and cover her shoulders. With a bit of modesty protected, I unsnap her bra from the clasp in the back.
“Rhett!” She gasps, the word a minuscule break through her fog.
“You need dry clothes. Put your arms in,” I order in a voice intended to prevent any arguments.
She carefully threads each arm through while I grab my jacket and hop back out into the rain. When I open her door, her head jerks to the side. The wide-eyed stare drives a stake into my heart. I cup her cold cheek, brushing away the wetness of lingering tears mixed with raindrops.
“I need to remove your pants. Can you help?”
A sharp nod provides the permission to curl my fingers into the waistband and pull.
“Lift your hips for me.”
She provides assistance. The wet material clings to every curve on the way down, making the task twice as difficult. One at a time, I remove her shoes and socks, pressing a soft kiss to her thigh as I do so. Once free of the cold items, I point the vents in her direction.
“Hang on. I’ve got you.”
As I turn to leave, she suddenly grips my wrist with a strength that belies her condition.
“Don’t let go,” she pleads.
“You’re stuck with me now.” I lock eyes with her, delivering as much fortitude as I can muster.
Those spoken words seal my destiny. I don’t plan on going anywhere.
27
Evie
My eyelids crack open, brittle and dry from the mix of tears and rain. A drum pounds a rhythm in my skull as the car comes to a complete stop. Seconds pass as the familiar tree-lined drive penetrates my consciousness.
Followed swiftly by a sharp pain in my chest with the returned memory of the phone call.
Fresh tears slip warmly down my cheeks while a new sob shakes my shoulders. My door opens, drawing my attention away from the agony ripping a perpetual hole into my soul. Nothing will ever fill what the loss of Eric leaves behind. Cami waits beside the Jeep, holding open a massive brown blanket. Loose strands of her brown hair stick to her forehead from the rain.
“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice frank and businesslike, as the paramedic side of her dominates the part of her that’s become my friend.
“Y-Yes,” I croak and
shift to climb out. Cold rain pelts my bare legs, but Cami’s there in an instant, covering me with the warm blanket. Rhett joins her before I can step out and relieves her of the task. He tucks the blanket securely around me, embracing me in a bear hug and wrapping my legs snug around his waist.
“I don’t want your feet to get dirty,” he murmurs in my ear.
The energy required to respond is depleted. I close my eyes and allow the gentle sway of his steps to lull me. A numbness spreads beneath my skin like a barrier, and I welcome the change from the constant pricks of grief perforating me.
“Bring her into the guest bath,” Cami says, her voice trailing us.
Rhett sets me gently onto the closed toilet lid. I spare the room I cleaned on my hands and knees not long ago a quick glance, but I feel nothing. Not shame. Not anger for losing this client, or fear for surviving on my own. Nothing other than the gaping hole where my heart used to be.
My brother is gone.
“I’ve got her,” Cami says softly and shoos Rhett away.
