36. Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Lucy
L ucy must have screwed up big time in a past life.
There was no other way to explain the level of punishment she was experiencing and had unwittingly drawn Jonathan into. The wind blew so hard that the rain pummeled them sideways. While the trees were close enough together to create a fun-house illusion—look between two only to find more lined up endlessly behind—the sparse foliage did little to act as a canopy. The deluge dumped through the branches while sweeping gusts plowed around the trunks, launching plump drops straight at them like tiny battering rams. Lucy’s face burned and stung from the percussive hits and the engulfing cold.
Then there was the mud. Thick and squelching, enough to suction a boot in and add a few metric tons of resistance to every stride. She almost felt the need to tug each leg up with her hands manually but was already using them as windshield wipers so she could see where to safely embed her next step. Tying her boots painfully tight was the only prevention against losing them altogether.
Lucy looked ahead, eyeing her guide with a splash of scorn for his graceful gait. His long, muscular legs made quick work of the slop that slowed her down. Though he faltered periodically, Jonathan handled the trudge, unphased, like it was a freaking stroll through the park .
He’d offered to help her a few times by taking some of her supplies, but she was determined to pull her own weight. All they needed was for him to tweak his back again and be stuck even longer in that miserable squall. After his fourth offer, Lucy lost all sense of politeness and snapped at him to back off. Unoffended, he obliged. But thankfully slowed periodically—under the guise of checking his map or compass—so she could catch up.
Lucy had no clue how long it had been raining. Could have been three hours or thirty minutes for all she could gauge. They were soaked through, and while she couldn’t hear her stomach over the downpour, she could feel the sharp pangs and rumblings of hunger.
Bacon burger with sweet potato fries . . .
Pretzel and beer cheese . . .
Schnitzel topped with sauerkraut . . .
Distracted by culinary daydreams, Lucy hadn’t noticed Jonathan stop until she face-planted into the back of his hammock backpack contraption.
“Oof!”
Her feet were so bogged down by waterlogged muck that instead of stumbling backward, she plopped squarely onto her ass.
“Shit! Lucy. I thought you’d notice I’d stopped.” Jonathan knelt down and futilely brushed sodden clumps of hair and mud from her face. “Are you hurt?”
Drawing in a slow, controlled breath and counting to five in her head was the only thing keeping Lucy’s sanity intact. That and the sizzling heat from where Jonathan’s hand drifted across her temple. She exhaled in a puff of condensation that mingled with his.
“I’m fine. Just a little muddy,” she joked, wiping her filthy fingers on her even filthier pants .
“Hold out your hands.” Jonathan opened his Nalgene and splashed water over Lucy’s palms to rinse off the worst of it. After they each took a swig from the bottle, he pulled out the last of their food—a handful of trail mix and a few strips of jerky.
“You read my mind.” Drool dribbled down her chin—nope, that was more rain—while eyeballing the snack. “I’m so fucking hungry.”
“Not a mind reader,” he chuckled. “You were talking out loud.”
Greedily taking a bite of jerky, Lucy asked, “How close are we to Eight Mile?”
“It’s hard to say. But we’ve gotta be getting close. I’m going to go out on an optimistic limb and say soon . . . I hope.”
“Then let’s keep going. Lead the way, Lewis.” Holding out her hands, Lucy waited for Jonathan to help her up. He steadied her by wrapping his arms around her waist and leaned down to nuzzle her neck.
“You can be Lewis. I think of myself more as a Clark,” he murmured then gently nipped the shell of her ear.
Vibrating shudders wracked her body, but this time, it wasn’t from the soaking rain and cold. Tilting her head to the side so he could have better access, she gave a noncommittal hum. Reaching up on tiptoes, Lucy kissed Jonathan, his lips a warm contrast to the rivulets of rain dripping down their faces. He reached beneath her shirt and pack, digging solid fingers into the small of her back, pulling her closer so she was flush against his frame.
She could have climbed him—then and there like a damn tree—but, being the more rational one, he pulled back enough to speak. “Later, sunshine.” His teeth dragged a rough path along her bottom lip, leaving behind little licks and kisses to ease the sting. “I promise.” Rumbling through his chest, the words were an oath, one Lucy had no doubt he would make good on. And when he did . . . Lucy’s toes curled in anticipation, straining against her overly tight laces.
Jonathan loosened his hold and stepped back, letting out a steadying breath. His eyes, like fingertips, trailed down her body and back up. “You have no clue what you do to me,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I have an idea.” Subjecting him to a similar perusal, she cocked a brow when her eyes settled on his fly. She had been pressed up against him a moment ago after all.
“Point taken.” She thought she spied a blush creep up his face, but it could also have been from the cold hanging in the air. “Ready?” he asked.
Physical hunger abated and replaced by a very different need, Lucy gave a quick nod.
Jonathan flashed a swoon-worthy grin and took a step away before turning to continue on their path—
And slipped out of sight in a blink.
Shock enveloped Lucy just before the fear descended, shudders racking her body harder than the surrounding chill.
“Jonathan!” she screeched so loudly that she felt the sharp sound from inside her skull. “Jonathan!”
No!
No no no!
He’d slipped. His foot landed on a soft spot, and he slipped through dense brush, down a hillside, and out of sight. It was instant. He was there one moment then nothing. Just bushes and a large smear in the mud where her guide had once stood.
“Jonathan, can you hear me?” Her voice was shrill even to her own ears.
Lucy strained, listening for a response. A groan, a curse . . . Anything. But there was nothing rising above the sound of unrelenting rain and the feral heartbeat pounding between her temples.
I should go after him.
She flicked open the buckle at her chest to remove her pack and flung it to the ground.
No, that’s no good. What if he needs the first aid kit?
She lugged the bag back on then paced feverishly, working up the nerve to slide blindly through the bush that swallowed her guide.
What if he went off a cliff? What if he’s dying? What if he’s already dead?!
Bile rose in her throat. Water and bits of jerky threatened to come back up.
Breathe!
Laboring oxygen in and out of her lungs, Lucy nearly choked on the rain-laced air and rising sick.
Count to ten, then if you don’t hear him . . . slide.
“Jonathan?!”
Nothing.
One, two, three . . .
“Please, pl—” Her sob broke off the call. She swallowed the fear, but her voice only came out as a wobble. “Please answer me.”
Four, five, six . . .
Still nothing beyond the storm.
Seven, eight . . .
Lucy lowered to the ground and slid closer to where Jonathan had dropped out of sight. There were so many ways this could end. All the bad ways were running like ticker tape through her doom-focused mind. But she had to go after him. They were a team. He would do the same thing for her, and he probably wouldn’t have freaking counted to ten to work up the nerve either.
Niiine . . .
“Lucy!” Jonathan called distantly through the raindrops and trees.
A relieved breath wooshed out between Lucy’s trembling lips. He’s ok. Oh my god, he’s actually ok. “Jonathan, where are you?” His voice hadn’t traveled up the same muddy chute but to the left of her . . . south of her? She struggled to determine directionality for a moment before deciding it didn’t matter. Scrambling to her shaking feet, Lucy scanned the area. “I’ll come to you.”
“No, no!” His voice closer now, she halted. “Just stay put. I’ll make my way back to you.”
They hollered back and forth for a minute before Jonathan came around the corner with a grin splitting wide across his muddy face. Relief flooded her entire system, and she stumbled over, throwing her arms hard around him. She welcomed the responding crush of his embrace.
“I was so scared,” she gasped, gripping his jacket with numb fingertips and breathing in his sweaty, cedar scent. “Watch where you’re walking next time, will ya?” The warble of her voice made her jest less effective.
Jonathan loosened his hold and took her hand. “Come on.” His grin hadn’t faltered, eyes crinkly with the intensity of it. “I found the trail.”
Lucy followed silently, his words not yet sinking in. Slogging back the way he came, she remained in disbelief. He led her to the edge of a rock embankment, clambering down first, then assisted her with the descent. When her feet finally landed on the packed dirt of a very well-manicured trail, reality sunk in.
Mouth hanging open, Lucy let out a single, choked sob. “Eight Mile?”
“Yep.” Jonathan laughed, shoulders shaking in mirth as he squeezed Lucy’s hand a few times. “Ready? ”
“More than you know.”
“I highly doubt that. Less than an hour to the parking lot.”
On the trail, which was barely wide enough to accommodate them, Lucy walked briskly beside Jonathan. She held his hand with a silly skip in her step as relief flooded her heart.
Finally having a clear-cut path to follow reduced the impact of the heavy rain on Lucy’s spirits. The expertly groomed trail was a far cry from the primitive route she’d become accustomed to over the last few days. When she was younger, her dad used to volunteer with the local Trails Association back in Oregon. He’d go on and on about how they’d engineer ditches and install piping or culverts to reduce damage from unintentional water flow and pooling. A few times, he brought her along to help. But playing in the dirt—helping mostly by staying out of the way—she had never realized just how grateful she’d be for their efforts later in life.
Winding through the trees, the trail turned and paralleled along a large river. The white-capped rapids crashed over boulders and felled trees, sweeping any bit of debris it could grab from the banks. It was clear to Lucy that the water was higher than usual, likely from the healthy, if intermittent, downpours over the last few days. The roar overpowered all other sounds: rain, thunder, wind. Lucy had to shout so Jonathan could hear her—so she could hear herself.
“How much further?” she hollered over the tumultuous rush.
He didn’t look at her right away. Eyes trained on the punishing water beside them, he was somewhere far away. Lost in his head as he took in the magnitude of flowing fury. He finally tore his gaze away and glanced at Lucy.
“Sorry,” he called back, his throat working to swallow some unspoken emotion. Jaw clenching, ticking, he struggled to give Lucy his full attention. “What did you say?”
“I asked how much further.”
Shaking himself out of a fog, Jonathan rubbed two fingers against his brow. “Half mile, maybe. We cross the river just before the trailhead.”
Lucy bounced on the balls of her feet, wanting to allow the excitement to wash over her, but worry held her back. His thoughts were written all over his face.
He was thinking about Cynthia.
“Jonathan, look at me.” Lucy laid a hand on either side of his face, willing him to focus on her, there in the present. “There is nothing you can’t handle—that we can’t handle together. We are so close. You gotta hang in there for a bit longer.” She slid her hands down his shoulders and arms then gripped each hand, providing a lifeline for him to cling to. “Let’s take some deep breaths together.”
He held her gaze, the amber pools of his eyes boring into hers. With each inhale, she willed her optimism into him and envisioned banishing all concern and worry with each exhale. After a moment, Jonathan smiled sheepishly. “Thank you.”
“Hey. We’re a team, right?”
“Right.”
“Good.” Lucy turned and tugged on his arm in the right direction. “Let’s go home.”