Chapter 33
Liam
My shirt is soaked.
My mind is in survival mode.
I flex my fingers.
I want to yell at the driver to speed up.
I don’t.
She needs me calm.
Alf gave me just the basics.
Landslide. So typical. The car went off the road somewhere in the mountains.
She was inside. Hurt. Alone. Trapped.
The driver from the capital didn’t know the terrain. Why did he drive so far in such conditions?
If I ever got my hands on him… Not productive. Calm down.
Thank fuck that Alf heard about it and interfered. Just like all those years ago when he found me in the ditch.
Why the fuck was she in Guatemala? Looking for me, I suppose. She should have called. What was she thinking?
I check my watch for the hundredth time. Like knowing the time could help me bend it. Could get me to her faster.
It can’t.
The tires dig into the road, still soaked from last night’s rain.
I should have checked Alf’s messages. Instead, I went to a bar. I gave up on her.
I continue the unproductive blaming game while the scenery changes. I couldn’t get a helicopter fast enough, so I opted for the car.
But fuck, this journey has never taken this long.
Two miles after the last village, Alf’s off-road vehicle waits for us. I throw cash at the driver and dash out of there.
I yank the door open, and our gazes meet. He nods. No words needed between us. A curt bow of his head to confirm she’s alive.
I climb into the passenger seat, and we drive in silence. I have questions, but none of them seem important. Not as essential as getting to her.
The house squats at the edge of the clearing, wood and tin and stubborn survival. Light spills from one window.
She’s there. She has to be.
The car jerks to a stop.
I don’t wait for the engine to die before I’m out, boots sinking into wet earth, the air thick with rot and rain and green.
“Liam,” Alf calls after me.
I turn, annoyed by the delay. His face is carved from the same patience it’s always been. “She needs you whole.”
I don’t answer. I just move. But his words steady me… just barely. She needs me. I can fall apart later.
The room is dim and cool. The scent hits me first. Herbs, earth, smoke, something bitter and grounding.
A mosquito net drapes over the bed like a veil. I pause. I want to take her into my arms. I don’t want to disturb her. I’m lost.
Roxy lies on her side, curls damp against her temple, skin flushed with fever. Her lashes rest against her cheeks, too still, and my chest tightens until it burns.
Wrestling with my useless panic, I stand there like an idiot. Needing her. Missing her. Loving her.
None of it is enough. I don’t know what to do. The uselessness seeps through me with a vengeance.
She moans and turns onto her back. My gaze lands on her chest. The shallow rises and falls. Fast, feverish, but present. Alive.
I drop to my knees before I realize I’ve moved.
“Hey,” I whisper, like my voice alone might tether her here.
My hand hovers, afraid to touch, afraid not to. I settle it on her forearm, the net scratchy in my palm. Her skin is warm. Too warm.
She doesn’t stir. Fuck, why are we here? We need to take her to the hospital.
My heart starts doing that dangerous thing… speeding up, spiraling, rewriting every worst outcome I’ve ever survived.
“She sleeps.”
A soft voice cuts through my loud heartbeat. Low. Calm. Female.
I twist. A woman stands near the door. Her face sports too many lines. Wrinkles of age, intelligence, experience.
She is small and skinny, with a kind smile on her face, her eyes sharp with intelligence.
Her hair is braided tightly. Her hands steady, folded in front of her.
I stand up carefully, not to disturb Roxy. With one more glimpse at her, I step outside and find Alf in the kitchen.
“You fucking called a medicine woman?” I whisper through my teeth, the words ripping out of me, ugly with fear.
Alf doesn’t flinch. “Was I supposed to leave her in a local hospital where she’d catch something? You know that place is not safe.”
The woman’s gaze flicks between us, unimpressed. “She is exhausted,” she says in accented English. “Her body is fighting heat, shock, and fear.” She gestures around her stomach. “And life.”
My blood goes cold. “The baby?”
“Okay,” she nods. “But the mother pushed herself.”
Guilt detonates in my chest.
“She has a fever,” the woman continues. “Dehydration. Bruising. Her head was struck. The herbs will help her sleep and cool the blood. Safe for the baby.”
I nod, though my brain is barely processing language. I stare at the woman, wanting her to predict everything. Needing reassurance she can’t give.
“She will wake.” The woman shows me compassion. “When her body is ready.” She inclines her head once and slips past me, quiet as a breath.
For hours, I sit on the edge of the bed. I don’t touch Roxy again. I don’t trust myself.
“You should eat something.” Alf leans in the doorway.
“I’m not hungry.” I drag a hand down my face.
“When she wakes up, she will need you strong.” He offers a voice of reason I don’t fucking want to hear right now.
And he hands me a sandwich. I stare at the plate while I feel his stare on me. Sighing, I take a bite so he will leave.
“She crossed an ocean for you,” Alf says, clearly planning to stay.
“I didn’t ask her to,” I quip.
“No.” He pauses. “But you mattered enough for her to do it anyway.”
I swallow hard.
“You don’t know that.” But why else did she come? “I left her. I fucking left her.” The truth tastes like rust. “I thought giving her space was the right thing.”
Alf snorts softly. “Space doesn’t heal fear. Presence does.”
I look at Roxy again. At her moving chest. At the faint crease between her eyebrows like she’s still fighting, even in sleep.
“Exactly. And I wasn’t present. Yet again, I wasn’t where it mattered. This is my fault,” I whisper.
Alf steps closer. “You weren’t there because you trusted her strength.” He pats my shoulder. “That’s respect.”
I shake my head. “I failed once. I chose obedience over loyalty. I swore I wouldn’t do that again.”
He sits beside me. “You didn’t. You came the moment you knew. And as much as you enjoy wallowing, you showed up the moment it mattered. You’re here now. When she needs you the most.”
“I’m here now,” I parrot. I’m where it matters.
“Now, eat your sandwich, and stop the blaming game. It’s getting old.” He shuffles across the room. Before he leaves, he turns. “Noah would be proud of you.”
I watch Roxy breathing, and for the first time in my life, I remember my friend; not for my own loss, but for the person he was.
Hours pass. Or minutes. Time dissolves into the rhythm of her breathing.
I count them like prayers. My fingers rest on the edge of the mattress, close enough to feel her warmth.
I don’t sleep. I don’t move.
Outside, thunder rolls again, closer this time. Deeper. The kind that rattles the bones of the house.
Lightning fractures the dark, white and violent, the walls flickering like they might give up at any moment.
I huff out a breath that’s half a laugh, half a plea. “Come on, Thunder,” I murmur. “This is your element. Wake up, baby.”
She stirs. Barely.
A shift. A breath that catches. Her lashes flutter.
“Thunder,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
Her eyes crack open, unfocused, searching. When they find me, something in her expression loosens.
“Hi,” she rasps.
I bring a glass to her cracked lips, and she takes a small sip.
“How are you feeling?” I put the glass on the nightstand.
“Tired.” She looks around. “You’re here.”
“Of course,” I breathe, not referring to Alf’s hut.
“What happened?” She pushes to sit up, wincing.
“Are you in pain?” I’m on my feet immediately. “Don’t move.”
I don’t want to leave her alone, but I can’t be a selfish bastard. Not now.
“Alf, she is up.” I don’t even know if he is around.
“That’s good.” The healer appears from nowhere and shuffles to the bedroom.
She puts her hand on Roxy’s forehead. “You’re strong. Head hurts?”
“A little bit. What happened?” Roxy’s eyes find me.
“You were in a car accident. A concussion. By the time Alf found you, you were dehydrated and had a fever.”
She frowns, her eyes full of worry. “The baby?” Her voice cracks.
“Baby is good. You’re good. Eat, sleep, and all will be like new. I’ll bring soup.” The healer leaves.
Roxy looks at me, and I sigh. “I trust her, but we will get you to a specialist as soon as possible. I will video-conference with your obstetrician and fly you out if he approves. But for that, I have to drive fifty miles. I can’t get reception here.”
She nods, closing her palm around the sheets.
“I didn’t want to leave you, but I will go and have a helicopter organized if they clear you for a flight.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighs.
I can’t stand it anymore, and lean down and wrap my arms around her. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry. If something happened to the baby, I will never forgive myself.”
“Sh-sh-sh.” I stroke her hair, pretending I have more than hope to go on. “You need to eat and rest. No stress.”
“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, her voice breaking.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” I kiss the crown of her head. “It was an accident.”
“I pushed the driver to go farther than was safe. I thought I knew better. I thought I could do it alone.”
“You really couldn’t wait for me?” I try to joke, pushing the tease through my constricted throat. Anything to give her some relief.
She gives me a tired smile.
“She eats now.” The healer startles us.
I take the bowl of soup from her, the rich aroma tickling my nose. My stomach growls.
“When was the last time you ate?” Roxy asks.
“Don’t worry about me.” I sit beside her and bring a spoon to her mouth.
For once she doesn’t protest, and lets me take care of her.
“This reminds me of that night at the restaurant.” Her smile is still weak, but it’s there, and so is her wit, which just about creates more space in my lungs.
“Don’t remind me. This is the worst time to get my cock hard.”
She giggles weakly, takes another spoon, and grows serious again. “I’m sorry, Liam.”
“Stop saying that.”
I give her another spoon. She takes it. Good girl.
“I have to. Let me talk.” She turns her head away from another spoonful. “I’m sorry I sent you away. I was protecting my independence, and look where it got me.”
My hands shake as I hold the spoon stubbornly in front of her until she sighs and takes it.
“We don’t have to talk now, Thunder. You’re here. But don’t you fucking disappear on me like that ever again. I almost broke your apartment door.”
“What?” She looks at me wide-eyed. “You were in New York? The whole time? But you’re here now.”
“I was here until the day you actually decided to join me. But I missed you too much. And I realized that the last time I obeyed, I lost—”
“Noah,” she finishes for me. “You didn’t lose me. I came to find you because I couldn’t wait anymore. I needed to tell you I’m not scared to allow.”
I frown. She’s not making much sense. Jesus, we really need to get her head checked. Maybe the injury is worse than the medicine woman assumed.
She sits up straighter. “No, no, that’s wrong. I’m still terrified, but not allowing is scarier. In fact, not allowing is the worst, the shittiest place to be stuck in.”
Or maybe she is still running a fever. “What are you talking about?”
She takes the bowl from me and drinks the soup before she puts it on the nightstand. At least she is putting her well-being first.
She shifts to face me better and cups my face. Feeling her warm palm on my skin steals my breath.
Relief. Safety. Home.
“You told me love isn’t deserved; it needs to be allowed.” Her gaze caresses me like the first rays of sunshine after rain.
She allows my love. She’s finally taking a step forward. With me.
“Thunder.” My voice cracks.
“I love you, Liam Stone.”