5. NIXIE
FIVE
NIXIE
Strong hands clamp around my upper arms hard enough that it hurts. Or maybe that ache is radiating out from my chest. I don’t know and I don’t care. Tiberius’s here. He’s alive. And for the first time in hours, I can breathe.
“We need to get you both out of the water.” Beauden’s gruff voice this close drags me back to a time in my life I’ve spent years avoiding, so it takes a minute for his words to make sense. “Now! Nixie!”
His strong arms slide under me and lift me out of the water like it’s nothing.
“No! Beauden, put me down! I’m not leaving him!” A wave of panic wipes out the last of my common sense as I fight against his hold.
He drops to a knee in the creek, the icy water drenching us both.
“For fuck’s sake, Nixie, stop,” he commands. “I’ll go back and get him as soon as I get you back on dry ground. Just quit fighting me. Please,” he grinds out.
I almost don’t. My breath comes in ragged pants. Adrenaline is like a monster raging inside me, demanding action, and it takes every sliver of self-control I possess to go still in his arms. But it’s not until he sets me on my feet that I realize I’m shivering.
Reality crashes over me like a brick through a window. I was only in the water for a minute. How long has Tiberius been stuck there, with his leash tangled around the rotten tree trunk that’s half-buried by the stream? Hours?
“Beauden, please,” I plead.
But the plea is pointless because he’s already sloshing back into the water toward Tiberius. When he gets to him, he talks to him, low and soft. It’s almost the same voice that I trusted all those years ago, only this one is deeper, calmer, more self-assured.
Beauden tugs on his leash and Tiberius stumbles. Another weak whimper makes my heart ache.
Come on. Come on. I rub my arms and shift my weight from foot to foot, fighting the powerful need to go back into the water to help. But if I try that now, I’ll just slow everything down.
Beauden pulls a folding knife from his pocket, and my pulse spikes, until I see him set to work sawing through the nylon leash. I nearly snap at him to unclip the damned thing from Tiberius’s collar, but I bite my tongue at the last minute.
Why? Because the crumbs of logic still tumbling around in my brain know that what Beauden’s doing is the smart move. It means we’ll still have a leash for Tiberius, rather than trying to walk him back to the car in the dark, hunched over with my hand wrapped around his collar, for miles and miles.
God only knows how many miles.
Another shiver snakes through me. I have no idea how long we’ve been hiking or how far we’ve come.
Beauden is heartbreakingly gentle as he lifts Tiberius out of the water, like he’s holding something precious.
Which he is. The most precious creature in the world to me.
But when he looks at me with his deep brown eyes narrowed, he’s wearing the same scowl that sent me fleeing from the bar the night before.
Mud cakes my shoes as I wait impatiently at the water’s edge.
I want my boy, dammit. I want to know he’s okay.
I want to look into his big, lovey eyes and smell his puppy breath.
Except, when I expect Beauden to set Tiberius on his feet, he doesn’t.
Instead, he carries him over to me and bends a little.
“He’s weak, Nixie. Weak and freezing.”
Not what I wanted to hear. “What can we do? Do you have matches or a lighter? I’m cool with burning the forest down if it’ll warm him up.”
Beauden rubs his lips together, but I can’t tell if he thinks I’m joking.
I’m not. I mean, I might be exaggerating, but the night is still young.
“The hike back to the parking area is too far,” he says firmly.
“So, we’re going to get back to the main trail and hike until we find the nearest fire watch tower.
I know there’s one along this stretch of the trail.
Then we’re going to start a fire and get him warm before we do anything else. You good with that?”
I nod quickly. Whatever it takes.
“Good. Grab my bag.” He tips his head and the light from his headlamp shines on it sitting in the dirt. “And stay close.”
“Wait. Are you— you’re going to carry him the whole way?” I ask, worry coiling tight through my chest. “It’s that bad?”
Beauden looks down at Tiberius for a beat before meeting my gaze. “He’ll be okay. I’m just playing it safe.”
He’s lying. I can feel it, but rather than fighting with him, I make the conscious choice to accept the lie. For now. Which pays off, because once we’re back on the trail, with my shoes squishing and my jeans chafing as I walk, and I’m so cold it actually hurts, I cling to that lie like a lifeline.
He’ll be okay.
He’ll be okay.
We don’t talk. We just trudge down the trail. My jaw is screwed so tight it aches, but I’m shaking enough that I’m pretty sure my teeth will start to chatter if I don’t keep it clamped.
Then there’s Beauden and the slow sinking realization of the situation I’m walking into. It’s one thing to be alone on the trail with him when my heart and mind are in upheaval over losing Tiberius. Being stuck with him inside a quiet cabin? That’s a whole different level of hell.
But I’ll do it. For Tiberius, I’ll do whatever it takes.
So, I focus on my feet, putting one in front of the other, until Beauden veers off the main hiking path onto what looks like another game trail. The urge to ask if he knows where he’s going almost wins, but I bite my tongue.
As we hike, the trail grows rougher. Honestly, I can’t even tell if there is a trail anymore. I’m just following Beauden, silently praying he knows what the hell he’s doing. Because what other choice do I have?
Could I muster up the strength to carry my sixty-pound dog however many miles it is back to my car?
Probably. But it would be excruciatingly slow.
I’m not built like Beauden. I’m not adapted to this god-awful elevation.
And there’s barely a sliver of moon in the sky, which means I would be stumbling down the trail in the dark.
Even if Beauden let me take his headlamp— which, why would he after I lost his flashlight in the creek? But even if he did, I would still be doing a juggling act trying to hold onto Tiberius and walk in the dark without spilling us both into the dirt.
My thoughts spiral like that, playing out scenarios that will never happen, until the invisible path we’re on takes a sharp upward turn. After that, all I can focus on is getting enough air to keep moving.
Beauden stops, turning to face me. “Let’s take a quick break.”
I can’t tell whether he’s annoyed, impatient, or worried, but when I look up, the jerk is barely breathing hard. If there was an inch of my ego that wasn’t already bruised, that suggestion would have finished the job.
“No,” I say on a rough exhale. I refuse to be the weak link. “Keep going. I’m fine.”
Instead of fighting with me or telling me I’m lying, he does nothing, his face unreadable behind the light of his headlamp, holding my whole heart in his arms, like he knows I have no other goddamn choice.
After a few ragged breaths, the air comes a little easier. And when I finally pull in a big deep breath, with my eyes locked on Tiberius, Beauden gives me a little nod.
“Good. The cabin isn’t far, but this last part is a climb.”
A vision of Beauden trying to scale a rock wall with Tiberius draped over his shoulder sends a fresh flutter of panic through me.
“Climb? In the literal sense?” I ask, holding my hands out to look at them. I’m a fixer, but I fix reputations, behind a desk, with a keyboard, a phone, and right on my side.
I’m not built for climbing.
“No,” Beauden says, cutting through my worry. “But the hike is steep. Stay close, Nixie. And watch your step.” His words are practical, filled with a kind of authority that’s earned, and while something deep inside me bristles at being ordered around by him of all people, all I can do is nod.
He watches me for another second. At least, I think he does. It’s tough to say with the headlamp. For all I know, he might be checking out the trail behind me. But when he turns and starts walking again, I definitely get the sense he was watching me. Taking my measure.
Minutes pass, and I feel every single step. I’m exhausted, worried to death, and now I’m cursing myself for not spending more time at the gym, on the stair machine specifically.
The cold night air burns my throat even as it slices through my wet clothes. I’m not quite as cold right now. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m sweating, which is a far sight better than trembling and chattering helplessly.
Beauden stops again. “Nixie?” My name sounds more like a warning than a question.
“Yeah,” I snap. “I’m right here.” And I swear, if he stops again, I’m going to lose it.
I’m tempted to tell him just that. But when I finally look up, he’s yards ahead of me, and behind him, barely visible in the darkness, is the outline of a small cabin.