Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
She hadn’t been this cold since she’d filmed a movie in Iceland last winter.
“Here.” Carter handed her his luxurious plum-colored hoodie. “Put this on.”
“Already g-got one,” Scottie said, her entire body trembling. “Theo’s.”
“Add this too.” Carter stood on the side of the road beside the van. He draped the garment over her lap. “We’ve got to get you warm.”
The rich scent of his cologne wafted around her.
She clamped her mouth shut to keep from complaining.
He was only trying to help. All she wanted was a hot drink, a cozy bed, and the freedom to sleep for about three days.
Sitting in the middle seat of the totaled minivan, a hundred miles from Redemption, was not how she’d planned to spend her evening.
Her whole body ached, and she could not stop shivering. And her ear. Oof. She tugged at her right lobe, desperate to relieve the pain stabbing her eardrum.
“I-I’m not in shock, if th-th-that’s what you’re w-w-worried about,” she said, barely forcing the words through her chattering teeth. “A f-fever. M-m-maybe.”
Carter’s smooth brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with your ear?”
“Hurts.” She tugged Carter’s hoodie up to her chin, then leaned her head back against the upholstered headrest. Their anxious faces hovering over her, blurring in and out, were kind of a lot.
She looked past them through the windshield mangled into a splintered mosaic of cracked glass.
Through it, the highway unspooled like a jagged ribbon, climbing a steep hill.
Behind Carter and Theo, the late evening sun had turned the Wrangell-St. Elias mountains purple and pink.
The pale-blue sky and the forest of spindly bedraggled trees felt a little bit like she’d stepped into a fairy tale gone wrong.
Standing in the churning, frigid Copper River wearing rubber waders up to her chest probably hadn’t helped her condition.
Her throat burned, and even though she was shivering, her back was slick with sweat.
Not that she’d share that information with these two.
They would probably use it as an excuse to layer yet another piece of clothing on top of her.
Theo and Carter were still in the running for who could be the ultimate Alaskan, and Elise had proven today that she could hold her own, catching three large fish.
Carter and Theo had each caught one. Dawn, poor thing, had struggled.
Staying upright, casting properly—everything about fishing in the river had challenged her.
Sheldon and Calista each had netted two salmon.
Rumors circulated among the crew that Calista’s husband wasn’t happy she’d been away from home for so long.
And that she’d privately asked Damian to be let go.
Scottie had captured several minutes of raw footage, detailing the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Viewers were going to love this episode. Including the wildlife that had threatened them.
“Where’s Damian?” she asked, her voice scratchy. She tried to look around, but now turning her head required a ton of effort.
“Still speaking with the state trooper.” Theo thrust a plastic bottle in front of her. “Want some water or Sprite?”
Scottie shook her head. “I’m f-fine.”
“Scottie, you need to keep drinking fluids,” Carter said.
“I’m going to speak with Damian and Tabitha. We need to get Scottie back to town or something.” Theo turned and strode away.
Tabitha stood on the side of the road, phone pressed to her ear. Maybe trying to arrange transport?
Drivers of a recreational vehicle had crossed the center line and slammed into them. First responders had taken both of those passengers, seniors on a road trip from out of state, to the closest hospital in Glennallen.
The rest of the crew, along with the other contestants, had all continued on toward Redemption in the other vans after the state trooper and first responders arrived on the scene.
Gravel crunched under Theo’s hiking boots as he returned. “Damian says our ride is on the way. The guys that flew the chopper should be here in an hour.”
Her breath hitched. “Ethan and Tate?”
“Yes.”
Oh. Relief washed over her. Tate. He would know what to do. He always did.
She imagined him gently nudging Theo and Carter out of the way, his strong arms gathering her up as if she weighed nothing, carrying her out of this twisted van to safety.
Maybe it was the fever conjuring up strange fantasies, but she could picture his face—crease in his brow, stubborn set of his jaw—as he took charge.
She’d been thinking about him a lot today, to be honest. Especially while she filmed.
She’d fished here many times, but today when she stood in the Copper River, doing her best to follow Damian and Tabitha’s instructions, her thoughts kept circling back to Tate.
He’d have an absolute fit when he found out what happened.
“Scottie, you still with us?” Carter’s words came from far away.
She nodded. Voices faded out now. Her ears felt stuffed with cotton.
She remembered trying ice skating once in high school—they’d been on a field trip or something.
She’d been so clumsy, falling on the ice at least five times, while the rest of her friends skated laps around her.
Tate had stayed with her, letting her clutch his arm as she hugged the wall and inched along the ice like a preschooler.
Even when the other kids teased him, he hadn’t left.
He’d been her lifeline.
The familiar rumble of a truck engine filled the silence.
Scottie opened her eyes. A Suburban parked in front of them on the shoulder of the road.
The driver killed the engine and the door swung open, and there he was—broad-shouldered, filled with purpose as he strode toward her.
Hot tears pressed at the backs of her eyes.
“Excuse me, guys.” Tate stopped beside the van, and his gaze swept over to her. “Oh, Scottie. Are you all right?”
Her voice caught, words jammed in her sore throat. Just her name on his lips was everything.
“You’re so strong,” she murmured, her eyes roving over his hands, his arms. “Like you could hold me forever.”
Tate froze. His ears turned pink, his jaw tightened, and something flashed in his eyes. Like he didn’t quite know what to do.
She reached for him without thinking. “You swooped in here like a superhero. Just to rescue me, didn’t you?”
“Oh boy, you are definitely delirious,” Theo said, laughing. “Time to go. You got this, big guy?”
“I’ve got her,” Tate said. “I’ll carry her to the Suburban.”
She leaned closer and let Tate scoop her up.
“C’mon, let’s get you home,” he said, his voice gruff.
“Home.” Smiling, she twined her arms around his neck. “Home is where you are.”
He stumbled, clutching her tighter against him. She pressed her cheek to his plaid button-down and closed her eyes. “You’re soft. And warm. I like this.”
His throat worked, but he kept walking and didn’t say a word. At the Suburban, someone opened the passenger door. Tate shifted her slightly in his arms, then eased her onto the front seat.
“Careful, Scottie.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
She opened her mouth to protest. Of course she meant what she said. Every single word. Tate’s face faded from view as she closed her eyes.
Home is where you are.
Tate shook his head. No way she meant that.
Except he’d replayed the encounter in his head at least a dozen times, and every time, some small part of him hoped that she had. Because when she’d looked at him, shivering and glassy-eyed, murmuring that he smelled good and that he’d come to rescue her…
Well, how could a guy not get his hopes up? The words had landed like raindrops on parched soil. And, boy, how he’d stumbled in the gravel beside the road.
Yeah, probably just the fever talking. It had to be.
He took another lap around the waiting room at Redemption Community Hospital, naming things he could see and smell.
Orange plastic chairs, the bitter smell of burned popcorn emanating from the break room, a kid smacking the outside of the vending machine with his palm, then pumping the air with his fist when the plastic bottle dropped down the chute.
Tate checked the time. Why hadn’t anyone given him an update yet?
They’d brought her in over an hour ago. He’d kept Scottie awake for the whole hundred-mile drive back to town, his voice going hoarse.
Theo and Carter had ridden in the middle seat, trading stories with her and feeding her sips from the last of the water bottles in their stash.
Every time Scottie had blinked too long, panic had scissored his chest and he’d said her name, too sharply, and she’d hummed something he couldn’t make out.
“I know you’re upset.” Damian’s gaze tracked him from where he sat in one of the orange chairs, ankles crossed. “But this is probably a virus and not a serious work-related injury.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” Tate scoffed, planting his hands on his hips. “You made her stand in freezing water for hours. What did you think was going to happen to her?”
Watch your tone. He heard himself and didn’t care. Because somebody had to step in and take control.
“Look, I appreciate your concern for your friend,” Damian said. “I would never do anything to intentionally harm Scottie or anyone working with me.”
Friend. The word scraped. Tate pinned him with a look that made Damian squirm. “This is the third person to get injured on your watch.”
Damian dragged his palm over his face.
“Both the leg injury and the finger injury were accidents that could have been prevented if you were more careful.”
Damian’s jaw tightened. “I’m not responsible for Libby cutting her hand. Sadly, injuries in kitchens happen. It’s an occupational hazard.”
“But not every kitchen is a temporary setup in a Quonset hut on a remote island,” Tate shot back. “The point is, you don’t have to put people in harm’s way. You’re taking foolish risks.”