Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Henry
By the time we reached the cabin, the trees were dancing.
Not like leaves swaying in the breeze. The entire forest pulsed and shifted, doubling at the edges, merging and splitting like some confusing oil painting.
The ground tilted underfoot with every step, slick and traitorous.
My ankle throbbed, but that wasn’t the problem.
I could handle pain. Hell, I welcomed pain.
It was my goddamn head.
The pounding behind my eyes was relentless, a war drum synced to the rhythm of my own heartbeat. Every thud threatened to crack my skull open from the inside. Nausea crawled up my throat, acidic and thick.
I’d made Ariana stop at least a dozen times along the way.
Pretended to adjust my weight. Catch my breath.
In reality, I was trying so damn hard not to pass out face-first in the snow.
I was holding on to consciousness with white-knuckled fists, desperate to blink the world into a single, stable version instead of three overlapping copies.
What should have been a ten-minute trek took four times that, maybe more. Regardless, she stayed by my side.
Every time I faltered, she was there. Silent. Steady. Not asking questions. Not pushing me.
I couldn’t remember the last time someone had been there for me like this.
Sure, I could always count on Gideon whenever I needed him. And Blake had my back, no matter what.
I’d given Ariana no reason to help me, but she did.
It was yet another confusing piece to add to the puzzle that was Ariana Kane.
She dragged me up the porch steps and into the cabin, her shoulder pressed under my arm as I leaned heavily on her. Too heavily. But she didn’t complain, supporting me every step of the way.
I barely made it to the couch before I collapsed onto it, grateful to be able to stop moving for a while.
Maybe now the world would stop moving, too.
“You can go now,” I muttered, my head tipping back like dead weight. “Take the Jeep. You know where the keys are.”
She was already gone, moving deeper into the cabin. I half-expected to hear the sound of a distant engine firing up, the tires crunching snow as she disappeared for good.
Instead, I heard water running. Cabinets opening and closing. Soft footsteps returning.
When I peeled my eyes open again, she sat beside me, her arms full of various first-aid supplies.
“What are you doing?” I rasped. “You could’ve been halfway down the mountain by now.”
She ignored me, reaching for the zipper of my coat. “You’re soaked.”
“If you want to see me naked, you could just ask, princess.”
That earned me a pointed glare.
I let her work, because I didn’t have the energy to stop her. My head throbbed with every heartbeat, like someone was jackhammering my brain.
She peeled off my wet jacket and boots, tossing them aside before tugging off my socks and jeans, leaving me in just my boxer briefs and t-shirt. Her touch was careful but firm, her focus razor-sharp as she dipped a cloth in warm water and dabbed at the open wound on my forehead.
I flinched, sucking in a breath. “You’ve got some bedside manner, you know that?”
“If you didn’t live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, you’d be able to go to the damn hospital. Right now, I’m all you have. As my kindergarten teacher always said… ‘You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.’”
“Pretty sure they were referring to sharing toys,” I hissed.
“The concept is the same.” She continued examining the wound, despite the obvious pain it caused me. “This is going to need stitches. I really think I should take you to?—”
“There’s a medical kit in the hallway closet. Top shelf by the guns.”
“Of course it is,” she muttered as she rose to her feet.
She disappeared down the hall, her absence dragging cold air behind her. I closed my eyes, hoping the spinning would ease. It didn’t.
She returned with the kit and dropped beside me, sorting through its contents until she found the needle and thread.
“Is this what you need?” She held them up.
I nodded. “You’re going to have to do it.”
“Me?” Her eyes went wide in surprise. “I’m not sure I?—”
“I’d handle it myself, but there are currently three of you, and I’m not confident I’d stitch the right wound.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never done anything remotely like this before.”
“I’ll walk you through it.” I tried to smile through the pain and nausea. “Then you can take the Jeep and get out of here.”
Her gaze flicked to mine. “You keep saying that. Do you want me to leave?”
“I actually quite like having you here,” I said quietly, my gaze locking with hers. “And that’s saying something, because I’m used to being alone.”
For the first time since I hit my head, everything stopped moving and came into focus. I had no idea why I admitted that to her. At least I could blame it on my head injury later. But I couldn’t deny the truth. I did like having her here. She brought life into this place of horrific memories.
“I can understand that… Preferring your own company to others.” She averted her gaze as she threaded the needle with shaky hands.
“What are you talking about? You thrive off social events,” I scoffed, trying not to wince as she began the first suture, although I welcomed the distraction.
Not from the pain, though there was nothing pleasant about being stabbed repeatedly in the forehead by an amateur. But from the soft brush of her fingertips against my skin. The heat of her body so close to mine. The scent of her — clean, sweet, maddening.
“No. I survive social events.” She didn’t look up. “I meant what I told you the night we met.”
“Because you have it so bad living on Star Island?” I bit back another groan as the needle pierced my skin again.
“Even a gilded cage is still a cage.”
A cage? What the hell was she talking about?
I’d seen how she lived. Saw her happily take the position of queen of the other socialites on Star Island. She enjoyed every second of it. Enjoyed being the center of attention. Craved it.
At least, I thought she did. Was it all an act? Why?
I didn’t have the capacity to unpack this right now, not with the room spinning, my stomach churning violently. I tried to push it down, but it was impossible.
“Bucket,” I rasped. “Quick.”
She left the needle lodged in my flesh, rushing to grab the waste basket. She shoved it into my hands just in time. I retched into it, my body folding over, pain slamming through my ribs and skull with every heave. She rubbed my back, her touch light and soothing.
When it passed, I slumped back against the cushions and closed my eyes, cold sweat clinging to my skin.
“I haven’t thrown up this much since the weekend before boot camp.”
“Navy, correct?” she asked, returning her attention to the wound on my forehead.
I gave a subtle nod. “How’d you know?”
“I noticed your SEAL tattoo.”
“When you were checking me out?” I attempted to waggle my brows, but was only met with pain.
“No. When you were showing off.”
“Showing off?”
“Exactly.” She moved the needle through my skin again, then examined her work. “What do I do now?”
“Loop the needle through the thread twice to close it up, like you would if sewing a button.”
I expected her to tell me she’d never sewn a button, considering she had an army of people who could do that for her. Instead, she managed to follow my instructions exactly.
When she finished, she pressed a clean bandage to my forehead. Her fingers lingered. Too soft. Too warm. Too close.
“Do you want something for the pain?” she asked, rummaging through the bottles of pain killers. “There’s some really good stuff in here.”
I shook my head, but quickly realized my mistake. The world tilted sharply left, the throbbing becoming even worse. I hissed out a breath. “I’ll be fine.”
“Suit yourself,” she muttered, packing up the supplies.
“Thanks for patching me up,” I murmured. My eyes were already closing. “Be careful driving down the mountain in this weather. It can be a bit slick. Just take it slow, especially around the curves.”
She didn’t respond. Just kept cleaning up. I heard her retreat and head toward the hallway closet. When she returned, she lifted my legs, shifting my body so I lay on the couch. Then she covered me with a soft blanket.
“Sorry things worked out this way,” I mumbled. I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t. “I didn’t have a choice. I just…” I tried to figure out some way to explain, but nothing made sense, my brain fighting against me. “It doesn’t matter. Drive safe.”
I felt her hand run over my face, from my forehead, along my check, down my jawline. I sighed, melting into her comforting touch, sleep pulling me further and further away.
“I think I would have liked you if circumstances were different,” I heard her say, unsure if it was real or my imagination.
“I think I would have liked you, too,” I mumbled.
Then the darkness pulled me under.