Chapter 22 #3
Then we were off, making our way slowly down the mountain with Clay’s nonstop chatter keeping us company and keeping any potential wildlife away.
Wolfe finally relaxed enough to start asking Clay questions. How he knew me. Jobs we’d been on together. Stories of me on rescue missions.
Clay was only too happy to share, which made the rest of the slog go by a little more quickly.
When we finally made it back to the vehicles, I felt Wolfe’s body deflate in relief. “Felt like we were never going to make it,” he confessed softly.
I squeezed his side. “You did it, Wolfe Marian. Now you’re going to have one jacked quad and glute while the other side’s going to atrophy away.”
Clay let out a boisterous laugh.
Wolfe’s face split in a smile, and for the first time in too many hours, my heart rate kicked up for a reason that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with how fucking handsome the man was.
The EMTs converged on us immediately, pulling Wolfe onto a waiting stretcher under a halo of lights from the back of the ambulance. After a few minutes of them fussing over him, I noticed the back of his thumb rubbing the far side of his index finger.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” he said, the knuckles on his other hand white where he kept my hand in a death grip as the techs peeled him out of his wet gear to get his vitals.
Thankfully, the rain had stopped enough to assess him without us all standing around in misery.
Blood samples were secured, his ankle was declared a probable sprain with advice to follow up the next day with a set of X-rays just to be sure, and Wolfe was declared well enough for me to take him back to the campground.
One of Clay’s fellow SaR team members came jogging out of the woods after us with a bouncing headlamp and a big grin. “Been a long time since I did a wet trail run in the rain. Never done a solo one in the dark, though.”
Just when Clay was about to respond to her, his radio squawked. He apologized and stepped back toward his vehicle to take the call.
The EMTs finished up with Wolfe and had just helped me settle him in the passenger seat of my rental when Clay came back over and squatted down next to the open passenger-side door.
“That was local dispatch. Officers apprehended Mr. Mason a few miles up eighty-three. His truck was broken down on the side of the highway. He was taken into custody and will be held while we wait for the bloodwork to come back. I’m afraid we’re going to need you to make an official statement, Wolfe. ”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” I asked, knowing how this worked.
Clay nodded. “Come see me in the morning at the Montrose County Sheriff’s Office.”
After we thanked everyone and said our goodbyes, I drove slowly back to the highway, already planning our next steps. “We’re showering in the campground bathroom before heading to your van. No arguments.”
“Wasn’t gonna argue. I don’t think I can manage by myself without busting my ass anyway.”
I already had my own shower stuff and towels in the back of the car, so when we got back to the campground, I pulled right up to the office building and gathered everything I needed before helping Wolfe.
No one was in the bathroom, so we were able to find a stall without any awkward small talk. Inside, I turned on the water and began peeling us both out of our nasty clothes.
I wanted to ask Wolfe a million more questions. But under the fluorescent lights, he looked exhausted, so I told myself to be patient.
He’d had a fucking ordeal. I knew his head and ankle were still throbbing. Of course he wasn’t in the mood to talk about Fletcher Coe.
I just wanted so badly for Wolfe to trust me, to let me help him carry the weight of this, it was harder than it should have been not to push.
Instead, I gave him as much tenderness and care as I possibly could, moving his naked body beneath the hot spray and holding him in my arms as we let the water wash away the dirt and work its magic on our freezing skin.
Wolfe turned and buried his face in my neck, running his thumb absently over the scar on my side before throwing his arms around my neck and swaying a little bit as the water cascaded down around us.
Eventually, I began washing him with the bar of soap I’d brought. The clean scent filled the space around us with the warm humidity of the shower water. The murky water at our feet finally turned clear while I continued to run soapy hands all over his body.
It wasn’t sexual. We were both too tired and sore for that. But it was intimate in a way I cherished. If Wolfe needed comfort and reassurance, I wanted to be the one to do it. I loved every minute of holding him while crooning words of affection and praise against his damp skin.
But I’d be lying if I said that, even as I held the man I loved close, I wasn’t also thinking of the asshole who’d tried to take him from me.
Jake Mason had hurt Wolfe. Abused his trust. Probably amplified all his well-founded fears of fame. Had made him question himself.
I wanted him to pay dearly for that.