Chapter Twelve
Dallas
Bex is barking. I look up, wondering why they’re still outside, when Bex comes tearing around the corner like a rabid dog.
My heart lodges in my throat as warning bells go off. “Marti?” I yell, glancing around. “Where are you?”
When there’s no response and he’s still barking his head off, I say, “Take me to her.”
Bex runs in the other direction, looking back at me to make sure I’m following him.
Dread crawls up my spine when he leads me to the pond. Oh, Jesus Christ, there’s a hole in the ice.
I race to the edge and fall to my knees, scraping the foot or so of snow away as I carefully navigate my way out. The pond isn’t deep, maybe four feet at the center, more like two or so where the hole is. “Marti!” I scream, staring at the hole while frantically brushing away more snow.
Then I see a patch of darkness through the ice and a tornado of fear rips through me. No, no, no, no, no . It’s my navy-blue sweatshirt.
I stand up, move to the left, and jump high, bringing all my weight down on the ice. I do it three times and then it cracks. I move chunks of inch-thick ice out of the way and fish my way to her, my chest throbbing violently.
When I reach her and pull her toward me, I’m devastated to see her blue lips and still body. Nightmares bombard me. I close my eyes and see Phoebe’s blank eyes staring into mine as her lips curve down. DJ reaches toward me, then his arm falls to his side as they both drift away. This cannot be happening again.
“Save her!” a voice screams in my head, shaking me from my nightmare. “You have to save her!”
It’s not my voice, however. It’s… Phoebe’s.
I put my arms under Marti and hoist her out of the freezing water, ignoring the stabbing, numbing pain in my legs. When her hand moves and her eyes open, I cry out, releasing a strangled breath.
Her gaze fixates on me. Does she even know what’s happening to her?
Carefully, with her in my arms, I break more ice, moving it out of the way while I trudge the last ten feet to shore. “Hold on, Marti. I’ve got you.”
Her sunken, hollow eyes stare up at me as I run to the cabin, Bex still barking behind me. I swing open the door then kick it shut behind us, put her down on the floor, then haul my mattress off the bed and over by the fireplace. I pick up her limp body, carry her onto the mattress, and start removing her clothes.
Holy God she’s cold. She’s not shivering. That can’t be good. Her eyes drift closed.
“No!” I pull and tug and maybe even rip the soaked Yale sweatshirt off her. I tear away the tank top underneath, and then her sleep pants, yanking off her shoes and tossing them aside.
I grab as many blankets as I have and cover her. “Marti, don’t go to sleep. Open your eyes.”
She makes a noise. “Nnnnnnn.” Then her entire body starts shivering.
I have to bring her body temp up. I get next to her and pull her close, but all I’m doing is making the blankets wet. Hastily, I stand and rip my own clothes off, then I get under the blankets with her and use my body heat to warm her. I run my hands along her frozen arms and back, rubbing with so much friction I worry I’m hurting her, but she has to get warm. She has to. This… this can’t happen again.
“S-s-s-s-o c-c-c-cold,” she mumbles.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”
I tuck a blanket around her wet hair then go back to cuddling her body as close to me as I can.
Minutes pass. Her uncontrolled shivering lessens but doesn’t abate.
“You’re doing great,” I tell her. “You’ll be warm and toasty in no time. Think warm thoughts. Chicken soup. Steaming coffee.”
“H-hot ch-chocolate?” she asks.
I laugh, mostly out of relief. “I think that can be arranged.”
“I’ve n-never b-been so c-cold in m-my l-life,” she stutters.
“Things could be worse,” I say. “You could be as cold as old Abe.”
It’s a horrible, awful, tasteless joke, I know, but I’m not exactly thinking straight.
Her gentle laugh tickles my arm. “Oh, my g-god. You d-did not just say th-that.”
My shoulders shake in silent laughter. “You sure do like to tell me that a lot.”
She cranes her head slightly, looking at me the best she can when my front is to her back. “Y-you say a lot of inappropriate th-things.”
“I suppose I do. Now shush. Save your energy. Just lay here and get warm.”
Slowly, over the period of what must be an hour, I feel her body temperature return to normal. In fact, I think she’s fallen asleep. Which is fine, now that she’s out of the woods and I’m still pressed against her hard enough to feel her heartbeat.
Her foot caresses mine. “Thank you for saving me.”
“My pleasure.”
She shimmies her butt. “Is that Bex’s god-awful stick poking my backside, or are you happy to see me?”
I pull away slightly, knowing she’s got not only her wit back, but all her feeling. “Well let’s see, I’m lying next to a naked woman who’s been basically vibrating against me for the last hour. Shoot me for having a completely natural physiological reaction.” I sigh. “And please never refer to a man’s penis as god-awful. I may develop an inferiority complex.”
“My apologies.” She snickers and turns to face me. “But are you… naked?”
“It was the fastest way to warm you up. You almost died, Marti.” I scrub my hand across my eyes and down my face. “You scared the shit out of me.”
She grimaces. “Not on this mattress I hope.”
Bursts of air shoot from my nose. I’m laughing when I should be crying. But this girl. This woman.
I take the blanket off her head and let heat from the fire further dry her hair.
“In all seriousness, I thought you were dead. When I found you trapped under the ice, eyes closed and not moving, I was sure you were gone.”
I feel sick to my stomach just thinking of it. It’s an all too familiar feeling. One I hoped I’d never experience again.
Tears roll down the sides of her face. “I wanted to die. Not at first. But, Dallas, I was so cold. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. There was so much pain, like a thousand knives were piercing my skin. I just wanted it over.” She starts full-on sobbing. “I thought about Charlie and how he was going to be an orphan like me. I know Asher would have stepped up, but my son would have lost both parents in less than a week. How could I have given up so easily? Why didn’t I fight?”
“You did fight, Marti. There were claw marks all over the ice.”
She brings her hands up in front of her face. “My nails are all broken.”
“You fought for as long as you could. No one can blame you for giving up. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to be trapped underneath ice.”
Except, in a way, I can. I feel it’s where I’ve been trapped for years. Yes, I can breathe. I can exist. But that’s about all. And a lot of days, I do think about giving up.
“It was horrible. I was so scared.” She leans close and cries into my shoulder. I let her. I let her cry and sob and get it all out. She had a brush with death. Again . Only this time, she was on its damn doorstep. And she nearly crossed the threshold. That’s got to mess with a person.
“I know. I know.” I rub her shoulder. “You’re safe here. I promise.”
There’s that word again. Promise . The word I shouldn’t be saying to anyone.
You saved her.
It doesn’t matter. Phoebe and DJ—the ones I couldn’t save—are still dead. Rescuing someone else can’t simply erase that reality. I could save a hundred people and it still wouldn’t matter. The ones who really count aren’t here.
Now tears are collecting in my eyes.
She sees them and reaches out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a pond back there. I was trying to get a good stick for Bex.” She stiffens. “Bex! Is he okay?”
Hearing his name, Bex trots over and puts his head near hers. She gives him a pat. “Thank goodness. That must have been horrible for him. For both of you.”
I drive out a harsh sigh. “Like you can’t imagine.”
She’s crying again. Her crying makes me cry, albeit more quietly and less snotty. We lie here and stare at each other, tears of both stress and relief erupting from both of us.
Without thinking, I lean in and press my lips to hers. They’re cold, but not too cold. Perfectly soft and supple. And despite having been in the murky pond, she tastes like toothpaste.
My emotions running amok, I deepen the kiss when she doesn’t resist. But not only doesn’t she resist, she snakes her arms up and around my neck. At the feel of her touch, there’s a hunger deep in my soul I can no longer deny. A restless throb of desire besieges me as I bury my fingers in the damp tangles of her hair.
It’s probably not a good idea to do what we’re doing, but at the moment, it seems nothing if not right. So I take it further and put my hands on only the second pair of breasts I’ve ever felt in my life. And despite the fact that a mere hour ago, she probably had a body temp in the eighties, she responds immediately, arching her chest into my hands, groaning in pleasure.
It’s those groans that have me wanting more. So I take more. I take whatever she wants to give.