Falling In Hard: Book Four in The Bridgeport Lake Summer Series

by Danielle Arie

  The sounds faded until darkness flooded in again.

  My head lifted, then fell back. Next came my arms, then my torso. My eyes fluttered, but they wouldn’t open all the way, my heart racing like I’d just gotten off a roller coaster, or maybe more like right before you get on. Someone was screaming. And someone was stabbing my ankle.

  “Hang on.”

  Wait, I knew that voice.

  Along with the pain came a swaying sensation, and the scent of spicy soap tinged with a hint of fish bait. The swaying turned into jostling, and the pain sharpened and ached, the screaming piercing my ears now.

  “Why, Lea?”

  My heart shook.

  “C-C-C-Cory?” I rasped.

  A low grunt confirmed my suspicion, and warmth met my cheek. Was he carrying me? We jostled again, and my whole leg surged with pain. I tried to clench my teeth against it, but they were chattering too hard. Another scream came.

  Wait. I was the one screaming . . .

  “Almost there.”

  There? I didn’t know where there was. Maybe we were going to the beach. Or maybe he was taking me skydiving. I tried opening my eyes again, but the pain was dulling, and sleep was way too tempting.

  A new crackling sounded, softer than the wild snapping from before. I blinked and stared up at an old wood-plank ceiling, something swishing when I tried to move my fingers.

  “Cory to all staff. Lea Miller has been found safe. Sheltering in the abandoned cabin at mile marker seven until storm system clears. Camper near hypothermic. Warming and checking for injuries.”

  “Copy that.”

  “June to Cory—notifying sheriff, youth leader, and camp nurse. Please inform at time of departure.”

  “Roger.”

  “Tucker to Cory. Heading up ten minutes after the last lightning strike. ”

  “Copy. Over and out.”

  I blinked again, trying to lift my head, but it felt like it was full of wet sand.

  “Stay down.” Cory’s gruff voice hit my ears, making my chest constrict. What were we doing in here, anyway? And why was I so hot? I tried throwing the swishy thing off of me.

  “Stays on.” A warm hand covered mine, or maybe it was cold. What was happening? He said more stuff into his radio, but I didn’t hear it. I couldn’t feel my fingers at all, but my legs were crawling, my jeans bunched in weird places. I stretched in an attempt to free myself, sending another jolt of pain through my ankle. I heard myself whimper.

  “Relax.”

  I peeled my eyes open to try and steal a peek of him.

  A flash of lightning flickered through the window across the cabin, illuminating Cory’s square jawline, and the bill of his baseball hat. A roar of thunder rattled the thin windowpanes, my bones rattling next. I shut my eyes as tight as I could, my heart pounding like it wanted to break out of my chest. I wouldn’t blame it for running away. If we traded places, I would’ve bolted by now, too.

  My breaths shallowed, and my teeth chattered again. The swishing sound came back, and then there was a tugging on my good foot.

  “You’re drenched.”

  “N-no. R-r-really?”

  He sighed, and something pinched in my bad foot. “Might hurt some.”

  Fire roared around my ankle, a hollow ache pulling somewhere deep inside my foot. I was waiting for the screams to come back, but warmth flooded behind my eyes instead.

  Cory grunted again. “What’d you do, Lea?”

  “S-s-lipped.” I could barely get it out as I recalled the way my foot teetered at the edge of an uneven rock and my whole leg collapsed beneath me.

  “No kidding.”

  “But you s-s-saved me.”

  “Don’t go singing any praises yet. You’re almost hypothermic.”

  Five

  CORY

  I worked Lea’s shoe off as gently as humanly possible, and as much as it hurt me to hear her sobs, the pain had to be killing her. Her ankle was swollen and bruised, but the bones were all intact, and her ankle didn’t have any extra flex in it. As long as I could get her warmed somewhere past ice cold, I might be able to save her a trip to the ER after this storm passed. Couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t need an x-ray, though.

  “It’s decent,” I told her, as I emptied the tinder box beside the wood-burning stove, flipped it upside down, pulled my jacket off, and balled it up underneath her foot, propping it on top of the box. I pulled an ice pack out of the first aid kit and secured it to her foot with the ACE bandage inside, doing my best to ignore every whimper and flinch. Another flash of lightning lit up the cabin, a roar of thunder tailing in twelve seconds behind it.

  Good. The storm was on its way out. Then Tucker could get up here and take over for me. I lifted my radio to my lips. “Removing soaked garments, covering in dry ones, and heating by the fire. Fast as you can, Tucker. Over.”

  “Copy. Storm’s moving.”

  I peeled back the thermal blanket I’d wrapped her in and pulled out the scissors next, cutting along the seam on her pant leg.

  “C-Cory?”

  I had to get her out of her soaked clothes, or I’d never be able to warm her, but whatever happened, I had to keep things clinical. “It’s all right.”

  “I can’t feel my fingers.”

  Dang it.

  I swallowed again, yanking at the edges of the cuts I’d made in her jeans, ripping them straight up the seams. I shifted my sights to her face and her chattering teeth, my stomach clenching at her blue lips. Better than the purple they were when I’d found her, but still not the healthy pink they needed to be.

  I got to work on her other pant leg, silently cursing the fact that Nolan had left. If he was still up here, he could be the one doing this right now.

  And his face was the last thing I wanted to see when Lea told him I was the one who did it.

  I pulled the extra set of sweats out of the hiking pack and slid them on her, pulling the sleeping bag out next and wrapping it tight around her. Thunder roared somewhere in the distance. I grabbed my radio again.

  “How long, Tucker?” I asked.

  “It’s been four minutes since the last one. I’m coming anyway. It’s way out there now.”

  “Copy. Stay in the low groves.”

  “Roger.”

  I turned back to Lea. “Gotta get you out of that hoodie.”

  She gave the slightest nod.

  I peeled the hoodie over her head, then I tucked her arms in and rolled her far enough to slide the fabric out from underneath her.

  She took a sharp breath, her perfect brows furrowing, her hair still wet and sticking to her cheeks in sopping swirls.

  I should’ve never let her out of my sight. I grunted, praying Tucker would magically appear. I put the extra sweatshirt from the pack on her, and gave her a painkiller. After stoking the fire, I moved to sit behind her. Pulling her close, I rubbed her freezing arms, and kept my eyes on the window across the cabin. The treetops swayed, rain coming down sideways, pelting the tin roof. Sounded something like when Mom used to make me popcorn on the stove. Back when life seemed decent. Before I realized what she’d been protecting me from.

  “I th-think my feet f-fell off.” Lea’s strained voice broke through the memory.

  I pulled her closer. “They didn’t.”

  “Are y-you s-sure?”

  “Shh.” Her body shivered in my grasp. I wanted to ask her why she’d bolted. What happened in that interview? Where did the bold girl I knew disappear to? But all of that could wait. Maybe it didn’t need to be asked, anyway. This didn’t mean things could change between us. We were still in the same boat as when she’d accosted me at the shed yesterday.

  “D-don’t t-tell Nol, ok-k-ay?’

  I frowned, pulling her closer. Taking one of her hands in mine, I drew it to my mouth to blow warm air around it. “Why not?”

  “He’ll k-k-kill m-me.”

  “Mm.” It was a possibility, but the more probable outcome? He’d kill me. Blame me, even. And I’
d take it. Whatever I had to do to keep her safe. I held her tighter . . . She needed heat.

  She winced.

  “I have you.” I rested my chin on top of her head, releasing the first hand and wrapping my hands around the second, still ice-cold and limp. I rubbed each finger, and closed my eyes.

  Please, Jesus. Warm her up.

  “Tell m-me s-something.”

  “What?”

  “A s-story.”

  “Wrong guy for that.”

  “D-did you catch a-n-nything t-today?”

  My mouth twitched. Typical Lea, always curious about my fishing game. Even like this. “One bass. One bluegill.”

  “Th-that’s it?”

  I grinned, shaking my head. “Gotta rest.”

  She sighed and went quiet, and as much as I appreciated solace, I hated a quiet Lea. It was too unnatural.

  “I was after a monster when the storm hit.” I released her hand, went back to rubbing her arms, and leaned forward to stir the fire in the stove. Sparks floated above the hot coals, and I threw another log on, more than grateful for whoever used this place last, and the healthy wood supply they’d left.

  “Y-you’ll g-get it t-tomorrow.” Her voice was a rasp, and it was like her to try and comfort me when she was the one hurting.

  “Shh.” My hand traveled in a pattern down her arm and back up.

  Her fingers caught mine when I rubbed her hand, that curious spark traveling between our skin again, making my heart drum off-beat. I wanted to leave my fingers between hers. Wanted to pull her close and kiss her brow. Tell her everything would be all right, that I was sorry for going cold on her last winter. That I didn’t blame her for thinking I was a jerk, because that’s exactly what I was.

  Dad’s angry face flashed in my vision, his last words to me spinning through my memory like a warped and rusted merry-go-round, creaking and grinding with every turn.

  It took everything I had to peel my hand away from Lea’s. I cleared my throat and picked up the two-way again. “Status, Tucker?”

  “Just hit mile marker six.”

  “Copy.”

  LEA

  I don’t know how long I drifted in and out of sleep before I really woke up. The wood planks on the ceiling were still staring back at me. Darker now. Reflecting a low glowing flicker. Something smoky and tangy drifted past my senses, making my stomach growl. A couple deep voices murmured to my right, and I blinked a few times, shifting to see Tucker and Cory hunched over an overturned tub with a deck of cards and two steaming mugs between them. Tucker’s dark brows were set in a deep furrow, and Cory’s face was set in his usual poker face. Except for the twitch of his nose.

  I have you . . .

  I couldn’t remember much about the past few hours—or days, maybe? But I remembered those three words and the flow of warmth they brought me, and the feel of Cory’s strong arms around me, the pressure of his chin on my crown.

  You’re safe . . .

  I’m here . . .

  I’d wondered what he’d say to me if we would’ve had a chance to hang out again after the last day we’d talked. Before it was all side-eyes, and rushing past, and cold shoulder shutouts.

  A distant flash illuminated the dark window, a gentle hum of thunder sounding a few seconds later. Tucker frowned and put a card down, and Cory stared at his hand.

  My stomach growled again. “Um . . . is there any more food?”

  Cory slapped his cards down and came toward me with a tension in his stare I couldn’t figure out.

  “Welcome back,” Tucker said, moving in behind him. “How do you feel?”

  How did I feel? I glanced from Cory to Tucker and back again. The pain in my ankle had dulled some, and I wasn’t shivering anymore, but then, I was wrapped in a sleeping bag and some type of tinfoil thing, and I was swimming in someone else’s hoodie and sweats.

  The lead-up to this whole fiasco came tumbling back to mind. “Almost normal. Aside from the weird clothes and bum ankle. But let’s be honest, the whole tanked-my-interview situation brought me pretty low, so . . .” I shrugged. “I mean, we could go a lot of different directions with that question.”

  “Looks like you’re feeling decent.” Tucker cleared his throat and set a hand on Cory’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go out and check in with camp.”

  “Mm.” Cory didn’t shift his eyes from my face, and I thought I saw an ounce of compassion in his dark brown stare. He crossed his arms, ducking his head to study the ground before he returned his gaze to mine, his jaw set and his eyes hard. “Hiking alone was a bad decision.”

  Wait. “What?”

  “You never should’ve gone up that trail.”

  Was he picking a fight with me? Like this? After he’d held me for forever and whispered his comfort in my ear? The air fizzled out of my lungs. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “No kidding.” He shook his head. “You could’ve died, Lea.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper. He glanced at my foot. Shook his head again. “Could’ve got someone else killed––”

  “Nope.” I shook my head, wanting to throw something at him, but . . . my ankle and everything. “I didn’t ask you to save me. That was all you.”

  I wished he would yell his comeback, or rip his hat off and throw it on the floor. Stomp on it, even. All he did was stand there and stare at me with a disappointed look, like I was a three-year-old who’d written all over the wall.

  A bolt of lightning flickered across the sky.

  I wasn’t a three-year-old, and he wasn’t being fair. “I think I ruined my chances, Cory. She was asking about my family life, and I freaked.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “I didn’t want to face anyone. To answer Tay’s questions. Or disappoint the new youth leader. They were all so excited for me. And I can’t imagine what Mom would’ve said if she would’ve seen it . . . If she even cares anymore. And my dad . . . He would’ve killed me after that interview.” A memory of Dad surfaced in my mind, his awesome laughter just a faint echo in time now. I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat and blinked back more tears.

  Cory opened his eyes and blew a quick breath, watching me so carefully. I wanted him to come sit with me again, to hold me in his arms. To make me feel safe. “Your dad loved you.”

  I shook my head, barking a laugh. “That doesn’t really matter anymore, though, right? He’s dead.” A random tear broke past my lashes. I let it roll down my cheek, because what was the point of trying to hide it now?

  “Don’t say that.”

  The rain slammed against the cabin windows, like the wind was set on breaking in, and making everyone else feel the way I was feeling. Cold and bitter, and so far off-course, there was no way of redirecting now. There was only the wind, the sails, and the sea. I’d just blown the biggest interview of my life, and it wasn’t like I could fix it.

  “My dad’s not here anymore.” I held Cory’s gaze. “No one is.”

  “I am.”

  Warmth flooded my entire body at those words.

  Cory’s brows furrowed, and he moved closer, crouching down beside me. His fingers flexed, like they wanted to reach for mine, but he wove them together between his knees instead.

  “I’m so done trying.”

  “No, you’re not.” He sighed and brushed my hair out of my face, then he squeezed my arm.

  “I can’t take it anymore. I’ve done everything right. My whole life. And where did it get me? Here? Alone? Rejected by every freaking person who’s supposed to be there for me? Well, forget that.”

  He grunted, his hand slipping down my arm. “Morning’s coming. New day. New outlook.”

  I lifted my hand to cover his, warm and rough, proof of the way he worked so hard all the time. He cupped my cheek with his other hand and traced my cheekbone, making my heart pound harder.

  “Are you warm enough?” he whispered.

  “I think so.”

  “Need water?”

  What was he doing, tryin
g to change the subject on me? This was the first coherent conversation we’d had in months, and he was trying to distract me, wasn’t he?

  No way!

  “Tucker brought a gallon. I can grab you some.”

  I didn’t answer. Just stared at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “What happened, Cory? Why’d you drop out like last summer never happened?”

  He swallowed, shifting his gaze to our hands. “Stuff’s bad at home again.”

  A door creaked, and heavy footsteps fell in the front of the cabin. His fingers stilled, and he jerked his hand away, rubbing his palm like he’d burned it, before he stood and moved out of my sight. I didn’t know which was worse. The shivering cold I’d faced out in the elements, or the shivering cold I felt now, knowing things were bad for him again.

  “How is she?” Tucker asked.

  “Better. Coherent.” Cory’s voice. “News?”

  “They want us to stay up here ’til morning if Lea’s stable enough. Said it’s too risky trying to help her down the trails in this weather.”

  Six

  CORY

  Sleep was a joke with Lea six feet away and shivering. I’d wrapped her like a burrito in that sleeping bag again a few hours ago, and it was almost two in the morning. The fire was still going, and I’d separated the coals to keep it from getting too hot in here. There was no way she was still cold.

  She stirred and moaned again, taking a sharp breath as her eyes snapped open. “Cory?” she whispered, decimating any promise I’d made to Nolan to keep away from her. Tucker was passed out on the other side of the room, and maybe I should’ve woken him up before I checked on her, but I could regret that later. “I’m here.”

  “My ankle.”

  “I know.” I crouched beside her, running my palm over her crown . . . to check her temperature. “Be right back.” I got her another dose of the painkiller and a water bottle, and helped her sit up so she could take it.

  She swallowed, shoulders slumped as she handed the water back, our fingers brushing in the exchange, reminding me of earlier. When I’d lost my brain cells and touched her like I actually could do something about us. Like there wasn’t a threat to my name and a future to hers. Seeing her like this—in the dead of night and broken beyond belief—definitely made me want to do something about us, though. More than anything.