Chapter 8 Autumn
AUTUMN
I sat on the grass, watching Dom pace as he talked on the phone—checking in with his friend back in Buffaloberry Hill, he’d said.
My fever had eased for now, but after the past twenty-four hours, I wasn’t na?ve enough to think I was in the clear. Even something as simple as standing could bring it crashing back.
Lulu’s ears twitched. A man was approaching in the distance, his beagle trotting ahead, its tail wagging.
Dom noticed too. Of course, he did. He might’ve been mid-conversation, but his attention never strayed far from me.
It still didn’t feel real, what he’d done. If someone had told me a man could haul a full pack on his chest and a woman on his back and keep moving, I would’ve laughed. But Dom had. He’d carried me, step after agonizing step. And it wasn’t just brute strength that had gotten him through it.
It was desperation.
For me.
Superhuman feats didn’t just happen. There was always something driving them. My old swim coach used to say that when the body reached its limit, the mind had to take over. That sheer willpower could push you past what should’ve been impossible. Dom had proved it.
The man with the dog finally reached us. Lulu perked up, immediately switching to social mode, her tail wagging as the beagle sniffed her.
“You all right, love?” the man asked.
My throat was still raw, but I answered, “Yeah, thanks. We’re just waiting to be picked up.”
He nodded, giving me a once-over before letting his dog drag him forward. Though the beagle wasn’t quite done with Lulu’s tail end.
Dom was still on the phone, but I knew he was watching. Ready.
Because no matter how exhausted he was, he wasn’t done looking out for me.
He tucked his phone away and came back over, but Lulu barely glanced at him. Her focus was fixed somewhere else. This time, she didn’t just perk up. She let out a low, warning growl. Not loud. Not obvious. But certain.
Something was on the other side of the bend.
A chill ran through me. I’d seen her act like this before, ears sharp, body tense, waiting. The last time, it had been when—
“Lulu, stay!” I tightened my grip as she strained forward, her muscles coiled.
Dom’s head snapped toward us. “Where’s her collar?”
“It broke.”
His frown deepened, but Lulu wasn’t paying attention to either of us. Her focus was locked on whatever was beyond that curve in the path.
It could just be another dog wandering our way. But if it was Stiff-Neck, I wasn’t about to sit here like easy prey.
Maybe I was overthinking. Still, if my gut compass was right, this village sat between Blodgett Pass and Buffaloberry Hill, making it prime ground for hikers passing through. Or for the wrong kind of people hunting for an easy target.
I moved to stand, only to have my legs give out, landing me right back on the ground.
Dom let out an exasperated breath. “Hey, stay down. Why can’t you just sit still for a second?”
“We should wait back there.” I gestured toward the stretch of bushes lining the trees where we’d come from.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
I scrambled for an excuse. “Locals don’t always like strangers using undesignated paths.”
Dom crossed his arms. “That guy just now told you that?”
Perfect opening. “Not directly, but kind of.” I reached for his hand. “Come on, please. Help me up.”
Dom muttered something under his breath but hoisted me up without argument, steadying me as I wobbled. He kept his grip firm as he guided me back to the shelter of the trees.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks.” My pulse was still thrumming. “So, what’s the deal now?”
“My friend Logan is coming.”
I nodded, but my attention drifted back to the bend.
Lulu wasn’t growling anymore, but she was still watching.
“How are you feeling?” Dom asked, his palm brushing lightly over my forehead.
“Just weak,” I admitted.
His brow furrowed. “Fever’s still there. Don’t move too much yet.”
“So where are we now?” I asked.
“The map says Timber Loop. It’s still part of Buffaloberry Hill.”
A truck rumbled in the distance. Dom stepped away to check, then returned and eased me upright, keeping a hand on me like he wasn’t quite convinced I’d stay that way.
“Hey there!” A deep, friendly voice called out.
I looked up. And well, either Buffaloberry Hill had a secret breeding program for handsome men, or I’d seriously underestimated small-town genetics.
The man who introduced himself as Logan Pierce might just give Dom a run for his money. But where Dom carried edge, Logan had “rancher” stamped from hat to boots. The kind of man who likely knew every name in town and helped out without thinking twice.
“Gimme that,” Logan said, hauling Dom’s pack. “You guys jump in.”
Dom guided me into the truck while Logan led Lulu to the back.
“Just take us to the Raven Bluff trailhead. My truck’s there,” Dom told him. “I’ll get her to the hospital from there.”
Logan nodded, already shifting into gear. “You sure? Anything else I can do?”
“Nothing. I’ll call if I need you,” Dom said, his voice already half-distracted as he checked on me.
As the tires bumped over a rut, Logan added, “How you ended up in Timber Loop, I’ll never know.”
Dom gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Been a long time since I’ve driven through there,” Logan went on. “It’s a patch of Buffaloberry Hill that people forget exists.”
“Used to be logging there or something?” I asked.
“You’re not wrong. It got the name back in the ’40s. Trucks would circle through and load pine and fir bound for the rail spur.”
“What’s there now?”
“Three farms, barely hanging on. Don’t know how much longer they’ll make it. It’s tough times all around for ranchers.”
I nodded slightly, wondering if any of those farmers could’ve been Stiff-Neck. It didn’t seem likely. He didn’t look like a rancher. Then again, I wasn’t exactly an expert in the rancher aesthetic.
By the time Logan pulled up to the trailhead, I felt better. Well, not great or cured by any means, but there was something about small-town kindness that made me feel less like I was bracing for disaster.
“Thanks, Logan,” I said as Dom helped me out.
“Anytime,” he said easily. Then, with a teasing smirk, he added, “Take care, okay? And if this guy starts acting up? Blink twice. I’ll stage a rescue.”
Dom rolled his eyes. “Get outta here.” But there was warmth in his voice as he shook Logan’s hand and said, “Appreciate it, man.”
“Come over for dinner sometime?”
“Riley’s cookin’?” Dom asked.
“Betcha!”
Logan drove off, honking twice in farewell.
Dom opened the passenger door, and Lulu wasted no time, leaping straight into the cab.
“Guess riding in the back wasn’t her thing,” Dom murmured, shaking his head as he reached for my hand and steadied me as I climbed in. He buckled me in before grabbing his backpack and tossing it into the truck bed.
Then he slid into the driver’s seat.
How did he still look like this? Like the past twenty-four hours hadn’t wrung him out? His strength wasn’t just in his body but in his will and in the way he pushed forward without hesitation. He hadn’t just carried the weight on his back. He had carried me.
Even elite swimmers I’d known—those so-called golden boys at the pool—needed time to recover after an event. But Dom? He was back at full power, like someone had hit the reset button on his stamina.
“You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered to Lulu, who wouldn’t budge from the spot between us. I didn’t miss the hint. He would’ve rather had me closer.
I let my head fall back against the seat.
“You good?” he asked, starting the engine.
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Totally fine. Not about to pass out or anything.”
He snorted. “Yeah, you’re full of shit.”
Maybe I was, because the second my adrenaline gave out, I was nothing more than an empty shell, weightless where I should be solid, and heavy where I should be light. Still, I scraped together just enough strength to jab him in the arm.
“Hey! What was that for?” he sulked.
It was a pathetic jab. My fist practically bounced off solid muscle.
“A thank you for doing the heavy lifting. Again,” I said.
His expression shifted. Maybe it meant more to him than I’d realized.
“I’d gladly do it again, Autumn.”
I opened my mouth, ready to toss out a smart remark, maybe something about billing me next time, but the look on his face shut it down. He wasn’t joking.
So I gave a weak smirk and let my eyes flutter shut, either from exhaustion or from the fact that I’d just seen a little too much of him in that moment. Not just the muscle and grit, but the man.