Into The Light (Three Rivers #1)

Chapter 15

Fifteen

BEAR

P anic boils inside me as the cops split ways—two of them follow the ambulance away, and the other two approach me.

I wait for them to arrest me, desperately resisting the urge to run, to fight for my freedom.

I can't go back.

I can’t.

They stop in front of me, one of them pulling out a notebook and pen while the other watches with his hands hooked into the front of his bulletproof vest.

"Need your statement," the officer with the notepad says.

He’s a few years older than me, with close-cropped blond hair, a short, neat beard, and piercing brown eyes. He’s muscular, fit, and intensely good-looking, his gaze hard but not unkind as he takes in my size and bloody appearance. The nametag on his left breast says “Mannix” and a gold star emblem indicates that this is the county sheriff himself, Cole Mannix.

"Statement?" I say. "I…I'm not being arrested?"

The officers exchange glances, and Sheriff Mannix shakes his head. "Seems to me like you got jumped, kidnapped, and fought your way free. Self-defense." His eyes go to Noelle, anger filling his gaze at the sight of the blood on her face. "That piece of shit should never have been allowed out. It was only a matter of time before he did it again."

Riley steps forward. "Wait, again ? His sheet only has petty theft, grand larceny, and grand theft auto."

Mannix shakes his head. "Duane Murphy is an alias. He's wanted in Arizona under the name Philip Bradshaw for several counts of rape."

"How can he have gone to jail under an alias?" Riley asks.

Mannix shakes his head, shrugging. "Somebody fucked up big time, somewhere. The Duane Murphy alias is paper fuckin' thin. A blind kid could see through it. Not sure how he got through the system at all under it, let alone through a fucking work release. Philip Bradshaw is a nasty, nasty motherfucker. Done time in three states for sexual crimes. Arizona is only the latest."

Riley falls to a crouch, head in his hands. "Jesus fucking Christ. How did I miss this?" He looks at Noelle with agonized eyes. "I'm so fucking sorry, Noelle."

"It's not your fault," Noelle tells him, her voice quiet and calm. "The legal system failed, not you."

"I knew he was creepy. I just…I figured I'd keep an eye on him. If I'd known—" Riley trails off, shooting to his feet and kicking the dirt. " Mother fucker. I fed that man. Gave him a job. He was in my fucking house with my fucking MOTHER ."

Mannix claps his hand on Riley's shoulder. "Miss Harper is right, Riley. You couldn't have known. He's going to prison for a long, long time. Won’t ever get out if I have anything to do with it.”

The officer turns back to me, looking at his notebook. "So, according to my notes, here, you were in your home getting ready to work at Three Rivers Animal Rescue when eight men armed with bats, knives, chains, and brass knuckles broke in and began assaulting you. You disarmed them, but they incapacitated you and brought you here, where you managed to escape and fight your way free. Is that correct?"

It's a leading statement—it's very obviously not what happened at all, with major holes in the story, but Felix has somehow managed to massage things in my favor; how I don't know, but relief floods through me as it starts to sink in that I'm not going back to prison.

I frown, glancing at Riley and Felix—Felix nods subtly. "Yes, sir. That's correct."

The officer flips the notebook closed. "I think I have what I need for now." He turns to survey the trailer. "Fuck me, man. Glad I'm not that poor bastard." He glances at Noelle. "Good thing you were here to stop him. Had it gone any further, there wouldn't be much I could do."

She takes my hand, threading her fingers into mine. "Thank you, Sheriff Mannix. Thank you so much."

The officer looks her over. "You need to get checked out."

She shakes her head. “I’m fine. He needs attention, not me."

I grumble, annoyed. "I'm fine."

Noelle looks up at me, exasperated. "You have a knife sticking out of your back, honey."

I roll my shoulder, only then realizing she's right. I glance over my shoulder, wincing at the twinge of pain. "Oh. Forgot about that."

Sheriff Mannix shakes his head. "How the hell do you forget about a whole-ass knife?"

I shrug—a mistake. It does hurt now. A few other injuries begin to make themselves known now that I'm no longer disassociating, as the prison therapist called it.

A medic approaches me, a tiny waif of a woman with black hair in a tight braid against her head. "Can I take a look at you, sir?"

Noelle answers for me. "Yes, you can." She guides me across the yard to the back of the ambulance and nudges me, an indication that I should sit. "Let her help you, honey."

The medic climbs into the back of the vehicle and crouches behind me, examining the knife. "Short blade, in the muscle. I can take it out. Ready?" She touches blue-gloved fingers to my back when I nod. "Here we go."

She slides the blade free and hands it to the waiting officer—the other one is bagging and tagging the other weapons I took away from Duane.

"You'll need sutures," she says. "You should let us take you to the ER—plastics can do a better job than I can here."

I shake my head. "Nah. Just sew it up."

She clears her throat. “I, um, I actually ran out of topical numbing agent on my last run."

"Don’t care. No hospital. Just stitch me up, doc."

"Bear," Noelle says, "Let's just go in."

I shake my head. "No. Don't like hospitals. Nothing is life-threatening. I should know."

The medic sighs. "Fine. I'll have to remove the shirt, though."

I rumble a laugh. "Not much left to remove."

"No kidding," she mutters, slicing it off.

A few moments later, I feel the pinch of the needle as she sutures the wound.

Noelle watches me as the medic works. "That doesn't hurt?"

I lift a hand in a version of a shrug since my shoulder is being sewn up. "A bit. Done it to myself a few times. She's got a nice light touch."

The medic pauses, looking at me over my shoulder. "You've sutured yourself?"

"Yep. Couple times. Medics wouldn't come to the hood where I was, and no way I was going to no damn hospital."

"Oh." She resumes suturing, ties it off, and snips. "Okay. All set. Anything else I need to look at?

Noelle again answers for me, correctly guessing I’d try to get out of further treatment—I just want to go home, and my stupid little owies will heal on their own soon enough.

The medic brings her bag around and sits on the step-bumper next to me. "Face me, please." I turn to face her, and she hisses. "Holy hell. What happened to you?"

She shakes her head as she assesses the extent of my injuries—a long shallow cut to my ribcage, a bruised or cracked rib on my left side, and several places where Duane's birdshot didn't quite miss, not to mention extensive bruising.

"You don’t fight off eight armed dickheads and not get hurt a little," I say by way of explanation. "Not too bad, though. Been through way worse."

"No kidding," The medic says. "I see the evidence." She looks up at me. "You've been through some shit, huh?"

I shrug. "A bit." I look at Noelle, my heart filling with gratitude and awe—she fought like hell to save herself, but her first thought was for me. "Better now. Got an angel looking out for me. A reason to live a good life."

The medic sees my look, and her face melts into a sappy grin. "Awww, my god—if that's not the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

After more stitches, she pokes and prods. "Well, you've got a banged-up rib, but I don’t think it’s broken. You’ll be sore for a while, though. You really should get it X-rayed, but since I assume you won’t, just keep an eye on it. If it gets hard to breathe or anything, you have to go in. A cracked rib can break all the way, splinter, and puncture your lung. To be clear, that's a very bad thing. It's not something you can just shrug off."

I tap my ribcage on the right side, where I have a scar. "I'm aware."

Noelle frowns at me. "You've had a punctured lung?"

I nod, shrugging. "Sure. Wasn’t fun, but I survived. Thus my dislike of hospitals.”

The medic snorts. "A punctured lung wasn't fun. Jesus. Who are you, man? The Incredible Hulk?" She pats my arm very gently. "You're good to go, big fella. Try to go easy on that rib, okay?"

I nod. "Thanks, doc."

She smiles up at me. "I'm a medic, not a doctor, but you're welcome." She looks at Noelle. "Get him home and take care of him."

Noelle nods. "I will."

I look at Noelle, noticing a smear of blood at the back of her head; I meet the medic's eyes. "Can you look at her, too, please? She's bleeding from the head."

“Sure, no problem.” She moves around behind Noelle, putting on a fresh pair of gloves and gently probing the injury with professional fingers. "This is okay—just a small contusion, no longer bleeding.” She moves around to look at Noelle. “Any dizziness, blurred vision, or nausea?"

Noelle shakes her head. "I was dizzy and blurry when it happened, but not anymore. Cracked my head on the ground when he threw me down."

After applying antiseptic ointment, the medic takes Noelle's hand. "Do you need a rape kit?"

Noelle shakes her head. "No, he didn't get that far, thankfully." She looks at Panzer, watching us from the back of Riley's truck. "Thanks to him."

I growl. "You fought him off, like the badass you are."

She smiles at me, soft and sweet. "It's over now. I'm okay."

After checking her out, the medic strips off her gloves and announces that we're both good to go.

The officers, having finished their assessment of the scene, clap me on the shoulder and shake my hand. "We're adding gun charges," Sheriff Mannix says. "None of the guns here are legal. We’ve got him on a laundry list of shit. He’s going away for a good, long time." He looks at Noelle. "We'll need your statement regarding the attempted rape, but that can wait."

She shakes her head. "No, I'd rather get it out of the way now. I just want to go home and get cleaned up."

“Okay." He pulls out his notepad and pen. "Can you tell me what happened? I know it’s hard, but I need as much detail as you can provide."

She squeezes my hand, her eyes going vacant as she recalls. "I work at Lux Locks Salon on Main Street."

Mannix nods. "My sister goes there. Loves it."

She grins. "Oh! Callie Mannix. I know her."

He smiles, nodding. "That's her. " The grin fades back to the professionally blank face. "So, you left work…"

"That garage is going up, so we've had to park next to the First Federal there on First. I cut through the alley." She points at Panzer. "Bear has been insisting I take him to work. He was growling as I approached the car, but I guess I didn't think much of it. I should have—he never growls without a reason. I guess I just figured it's a creepy alley, and he saw or sensed something he didn’t like.” She shakes her head. “Anyway. I got Panzer into my car, and I was about to get in when Mom called—Mom! Oh my god!” She claps a hand over her mouth. “I was on the phone with her when he grabbed me. I must’ve dropped the phone—she probably heard everything! She must be worried sick!"

"On it," The other officer says. "I'll send someone over to explain." He paces away and mutters into his radio.

"So, he grabbed you?" Mannix prompts. "How?"

"From behind. His hand was over my mouth." She demonstrates, hand across her lips. "He dragged me backward a few feet and threw me to the ground. I fought and kicked, but he slapped me. Before I could do anything else, he put a knife to my face, and then he cut my shirt and bra off.” His voice wavers. She sucks in a deep breath. Squares her shoulders, lets it out, and keeps going, voice steady once more. “I…he slapped me again and put the knife to my throat, warned me to hold still or he'd kill me. Said he…" She trails off, voice shaking. "He said he’d fuck my corpse if he had to.”

I growl, that red haze washing over my vision again.

She turns into me, palming my face. "Hey, no, no, no. Stop. I'm okay . It's just hard to recall. I'm okay. I'll be okay." She lifts on her toes, pulling my face down to hers. "Breathe. Don't go back there."

I touch my forehead to hers, following along with her as she takes long, slow breaths in, holds them, and lets them out. "Okay."

She rubs my lips with her thumb. “Okay.” She turns back to Mannix. “I…I waited until he was unbuckling his belt. He was drunk. Clumsy. I saw a chance when he got distracted by his belt and kicked him. Fought my way over to the car and opened it so Panzer could get out. I…” She pauses to breathe. “I was worried about Bear. Duane told me he had you taken care of permanently. I was worried you were going to kill someone. I couldn’t stand it if you went back to prison, so I…I called Panzer off and drove to your complex. I saw the bodies, and I…” she shudders. “I thought they were all dead at first. I called Riley, and we figured out that you came here—the yard, the files."

Sheriff Mannix arches an eyebrow at her. "You were worried not that he was in danger but that he'd kill someone?"

She shrugs, gesturing vaguely at the crumbling, collapsing single-wide and the Lay-Z-Boy recliner on its side near the rust-bucket early-aughts sedan I stole from the thugs who jumped me and drove here. "Well…yeah."

Mannix closes his notebook. "I've got what I need, I think." He glances at Panzer and then at Noelle. “Probably for the best you called off the dog, you know. Death by guard dog cases can get seriously complicated legally, even in cases of clear-cut self-defense."

Noelle exhales, rubbing her face with her hands, smearing and flaking the drying blood, then looks at her hands with a wince. "I just…I remember thinking I don't want someone's death on my conscience, even if it may have been well-deserved."

"Can't unring that bell," I say. "Damned hard thing to forget."

“Facts," agrees Sheriff Mannix, his own gaze distant. He shakes his head. “Well, like I said, I've got what I need for now. I know how to find you both if I have any more questions, but I doubt I will." He claps me on the shoulder as he passes me on his way to his squad car, nudging me a few steps away from Noelle. "Get her home and run her a bath. It's gonna hit her like a fuckin' Mack truck any minute, and she'll need somewhere safe and familiar to process and decompress."

I nod. "Yes sir, thank you, sir."

He surveys the damage I did and grins at me, shaking his head with a huffing laugh. “Never seen anything like it, man. You’re a beast.” He pats my shoulder again. “Good job keeping your shit on a leash. You obviously could've ripped his arm off and beaten him to death with it."

“The hardest thing I’ve ever done,” I admit, my voice pitched so only he can hear me. “Wanted to…” I shake my head, growling a sigh. "Wanted to do really bad things to him."

"But you didn't." Mannix holds my gaze, nodding. "That's what counts."

"Thank you, Sheriff Mannix. You ever need anything…"

Mannix grins. "You know, me and a few other guys get together to play football couple'a times a month. You're welcome to join. Officially, it's touch, but every once in a while, someone gets a proper tackle in. By accident, of course." He winks. "All friendly fun. Crack a few beers, toss around the ball, shoot the shit. Felix and Riley tag in once in a while. You should too."

Play football with a cop?

What a weird world I've found myself in.

I nod at him. "Sounds like fun. I'll give it a try sometime."

Mannix's radio crackles and the dispatcher rattles off a code and a car request. Mannix keys his radio and responds. “Gotta go. I’ll have the Crowe boys bring you to the next meetup.” He jogs to his squad car, and they peel out, leaving Riley, Felix, Noelle, and me alone in the night.

Noelle comes up to me and all but collapses against my chest, her hands together under her cheek. "I wanna go home."

"Me too." I bend and scoop her up into my arms.

She rests her head on my shoulder. "I can walk,” she mumbles, making no effort to get down.

"Course you can. Not gonna, though," I answer, carrying her to Riley's truck.

Riley opens the rear passenger door and I settle her on the seat; Panzer immediately pounces, resting his bulky body on her thighs and frantically licking her face and throat.

She holds onto his head, eyes closed, and lets him lick. "Thank God for you, boy," she whispers.

"Her house," I growl at Riley as I shut her door and open the front passenger one. "Now, if not sooner."

"Roger that, pal," Riley says.

I pause, shooting Felix a look. "Thank you for what you did."

He nods. "Glad we could have the best possible outcome from a shitty situation."

We make the twenty-minute drive in fifteen. Riley parks in the driveway of Noelle's house, glancing at me. "Not the time for the full discussion, obviously, but you should know I talked to Felix. About you switching crews, I mean."

My gut flips. "Riley—"

He grabs my shoulder and squeezes. "We'll figure something out, brother, alright? I hate to lose you, obviously. My productivity will tank without you. But you deserve it. You've worked damned hard to turn your life around."

My eyes burn—not so much at the praise as at the word "brother."

I can only nod, throat tight. "Appreciate you…brother."

Riley clears his throat, jerking his head backward at Noelle, who has nodded off, her head resting on Panzer's side, whose head rests in turn on her thighs. "Get your woman inside. Take care of her. She says she’s okay, but she went through a traumatic situation. She's telling herself it could've been way worse, which is true, but that don't negate what she did experience."

"Speaking from experience?" I ask.

He nods. "Long time ago, yeah." His expression is distant and troubled. "Something similar happened to someone I cared about." A sigh. "With a…slightly less favorable outcome for everybody involved." He waves a hand. "Forget it. Get outta here. I’ve got a bottle of Jack at home calling my name."

"Riley,” I start.

He shakes his head. "Don’t start, man.”

I can only nod—it’s not my place. "See ya tomorrow."

"Nope. You're taking the day off. So's Noelle."

"Alright. Thanks for everything. For showing up for her. For me."

He nods as I gather Noelle in my arm; Panzer, against training, hops down without being commanded, whining as I move Noelle away from him.

"I've got her, boy," I murmur to him. "C'mon."

Despite everything that happened, Noelle's purse somehow remained slung around her torso the whole time, even after her shirt was cut away. She's partially awake, groggy and mumbling incoherently as I set her on her feet long enough to rustle her keys out of her bloodstained purse and unlock the door. That done, I pick her up again and carry her inside. Into her room, lay her on her bed over the covers and toss a throw blanket over her.

"Bear," she mumbles.

I cup her cheek, standing beside her. "I'm here."

"Need you."

"Not goin' anywhere. Just locking the door. Right back."

Panzer slumps to the floor on her side of the bed, the side closest to the door, putting himself between her and the door. Dozing back off, she rubs her nose and then her hand tumbles to hang off the side of the bed. Panzer licks her fingers a few times and then rests his chin on his paws, ears alert, eyes watchful.

I crouch beside him, hugging him. "Good boy, Panzer." I ruffle his ears. "Good boy."

He licks my chin, cold wet nose nuzzling my cheek.

I check every room, every closet, even the small, low-ceilinged, unfinished basement. Lock the side door we came in.

As I'm heading for the bedroom again, a headlight swings around to shine in through the front bay window. I peek out—Noelle's mother and father.

I go out onto the front porch. "She's asleep."

Her mother stops at the bottom of the steps. "I need to see my daughter, Bear."

I cross my arms. "I'm sorry, ma'am. She's been through a lot. Not waking her up for anything."

Her father pushes past his wife to stand on the step below me, glaring up at me. "Move aside, son. She's our daughter."

I cross my arms. "No. Sorry. She needs to rest. Second she's awake and up for it, she'll call you."

Nina’s lip trembles. "Our baby girl was…she was attacked, Bear. I need to see that she's okay."

"Promise you, she's physically fine. Broken nose, meanin' black eyes. Roughed up a little. Seeing her right now won't make you feel better." I force myself to soften—this is their daughter, even if my protective instincts are raging at me to destroy anyone who comes within fifty feet of her. "She needs rest. Needs to get cleaned up."

Nicholas sighs. "The second she wakes up…"

I nod. "I'll tell her you want to see her. I swear."

They trade glances, and then Nicholas nods. "Okay. I guess it's good she has you to take care of her."

They get back in their Forester and back out of the driveway. When they're gone, I go back inside, lock the front door, peel my dirty, blood-crusted jeans off, boots and socks, too, and climb into the bed next to Noelle.

She mumbles in her sleep, sensing my presence, and wriggles toward me. I bring her onto my chest and hold her close.

Despite my own exhaustion, I know I won't sleep any time soon.

I'm shaken from my fitful, restless quasi-sleep by Noelle thrashing and crying out.

"No! Please—don't. Don't! No!"

I let her thrash, even when her fists bludgeon my face and chest and her feet kick my shins. "Noelle," I say, voice low and soothing. "Wake up, Noelle. You're dreaming. You're safe. Wake up."

“No! Let me go!" She thrashes again, fist smacking my nose hard enough to re-break it.

"Noelle!" I say a little louder, shaking her gently. "Wake up. It's a dream. It's not real. You're safe."

"No! Bear!" She twists and thrashes again, clocking me in the temple. Jackknifing upright, her eyes sweep the room frantically. “Bear?"

I wrap my arms around her and pull her to my chest. "You're okay. You're okay. You're safe."

A sob wracks her body, and she slumps into me. "Bear," she whispers, her voice tiny and lost. "I was back there. On the ground in the alley, and he was….he was—"

I squeeze her, nuzzling my lips against her temple. "Safe now. I've got you."

She sighs, the fight and the tension ebbing out of her. "Fuck."

The curse is shocking coming from her—it's one of fear, anger, and frustration, a million emotions all mixed up together into a Gordian knot of trauma.

I dab my nose with my wrist, not wanting to bleed onto her or the bed. I pinch the bridge of my nose and reset it with a soft growl.

Noelle lifts up. "What? You're bleeding. What happened?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." I wriggle and wrinkle my nose, wiping my forearm under it, and then the heel of my palm, and then my bicep, until the blood starts to clot.

She sits up further. "Bear—did I do that?"

I tuck a strand of her coppery curls behind her ear. "You were having a nightmare. It's okay."

Her eyes water. "I hurt you."

I smile. Shake my head. "No, you didn't."

"I re-broke your nose," she protests.

"You have any idea how many times it's been broken? Don’t give a shit, honey. All I care about is you."

She shudders, and the shudder becomes a shiver. "Cold all of a sudden."

I shift toward the edge of the bed. “I’ll run you a bath."

"No!" She cries out, fear and desperation making her cling to my arm. "Don't leave me."

"Never," I promise.

I scoop her up and carry her into the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub with her on my lap, clinging to my neck, shivering and whimpering. Twist on the hot water and plug the drain. I sit there and hold her as the tub fills with steaming water. Once it's nearing full, I add cold water bit by bit until it's steaming hot but not scalding.

"Noelle, sweetheart," I whisper, the term of endearment emerging unbidden, rising from the depths of my love for her. "Let's get you in the bath, okay?"

She nods.

Doesn't move, doesn't let go of me. "Cold."

"Water's piping hot, okay?" I touch her face, turn it so she's looking at me—her eyes are tear-wet, not seeing me but that alley, most likely. "Gonna help you out of your clothes so we can get you clean, okay?"

She nods, straightening on my lap so I can peel Riley's now stiff-with-blood shirt off. A thin red line mars her throat where Duane's knife pressed; killing rage bubbles up inside me, but I squash it down viciously, lock it away in the dungeon of my soul. She doesn’t need my rage anymore. She needs my touch, my love.

There's no sexual excitement in me at the sight of her bare chest—not in this moment. Nor as I help her out of her socks and sneakers, jeans and underwear. I move to help her into the tub, but she clings to me desperately, clawing at me to get closer.

"No!” she whimpers. "Need you. Please." The last word is hissed, shaking.

I strip off my underwear and then cradle her against my chest as I sink gingerly into the hot water with her. She hisses as the water rises around us, her body stiff and tense, muscles shaking, every fiber of her being trembling.

"Got you," I whisper. "You're safe, now."

For several minutes, she just clings to me, shaking and shivering and trembling, an occasional sob escaping past her gritted teeth.

Slowly, slowly, she begins to relax as the hot water tinges pink. Her breathing settles back to normal from the ragged panting.

I rest my head against the back of the tub, marveling that this thing is big enough to contain not just my giant ass but both of us. I hold her, trying hard as hell to project calm, peace, and safety.

The water cools.

I pull the plug and let it drain around us, and then twist on the water, adjusting the taps until it's hot but not too hot. Between the tub and the wall—a gap of eighteen inches or so—is a marble pedestal with a bowl on top, which contains a plethora of mysterious girly bath shit. Plastic-wrapped balls, tubs of flaky white shit, tubes of goop, bottles of goo, and squares of colorful soap.

I grab one of the balls and look at it—it's wrapped in crinkly plastic with a circular sticker on it; pastel pink with cursive writing, the sticker says: "Rest, Relax and Rejuvenate," across the center, and "Bath Bombs by Bathing Beauties" beneath it.

I don't have a clue what a bath bomb is, but I figure she could do with some rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation right about now, so I unwrap it as the hot water refills.

I toss the bath bomb into the water at my feet. For a second, nothing happens. And then suddenly the water is fizzing wildly, frothing with crazy, colorful, pungent, foam that swirls throughout the water.

"The fuck?" I mumble.

Noelle giggles against my chest. "Bath bomb, silly."

"What's it do?"

"Smells good, mostly. They're all different. They have different minerals and stuff that do different things." Her voice sounds more normal, now.

“Is it okay that I used it?" I ask.

She nods. "Of course. I like it."

"Good."

A long silence.

"Bear?" Soft, quiet, hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"I was so scared." She shudders, trying to burrow into me. "I fought him. I really fought him as hard as I could.”

"I know. You fought the bastard off."

"Panzer saved me."

"Yup."

She's quiet again, but I hear a quiet sniffle. "I'm t-t-trying to be s-s-strong, Bear. I-I-I j-j-ust…"

I curl my arms right. "Don't gotta be strong, honey. I'm here. I've got you. Nobody and nothing is getting near you. You're safe." I tilt her face to mine, her wet eyes shimmering and wide. "Let it out. Let yourself be whatever you need to be."

For a second or two, she's frozen and silent. And then she sniffles. again. And then her frame shakes with a silent sob.

"Give it all to me," I whisper. "I can take it, honey. I can take it all."

She dissolves, then. Silent sobs become great, wracking, heaving ones, guttural and gut-wrenching. She screams once, drawing Panzer to investigate—he pokes his head into the bathroom and then slumps heavily to the floor just outside it, seeming content that I've got our girl taken care of but still determined to keep his eyes on her.

It's hard to know how long she weeps—it feels like a good half an hour or so. Eventually, the sobs subside into sniffles and shuddering breaths.

The water's gone cool again, and our fingers and toes are pruned.

"Can we get out?" she whispers.

"Gotcha. Let me get a towel."

I climb out and towel off as fast as possible, then wrap the towel around my waist; Noelle is crouched in the tub, arms around her knees, wet hair stringy around her bare shoulders. Her eyes follow me as I snag a fresh towel. She wobbles to her feet, bracing against the sides of the tub. I wrap her in the towel and sweep her off her feet.

"I can walk," she protests.

"Nope."

I carry her to the bed, sit on the edge with her on my lap, and use the towel to dry her body, then squeeze the worst of the water out of her hair the way she showed me.

I yank back the blankets, discard our damp towels, and bring her into my arms again under the covers.

Cheek on my chest, she burrows against me. "Maybe I'm not as okay as I thought," she whispers.

"That's okay. You don't have to be."

"Don't leave me, okay? Please?" The raw, terrified desperation in her voice shakes me to my core.

"Not a fucking chance in hell," I promise her. "I've got you. Always."

Her fingers touch my cheek, the bridge of her nose against my jawline. "Always?"

"Always."