by Bella Blake
Chase shakes his head adamantly. “No way. You’re the one who insisted we all stick together, remember? It was good advice then, and it’s still true now.”
“Agreed,” Hugh adds, then motions at my foot. “Now for the bad news—I have to put your boot back on. It’ll help keep some of the swelling down, but it’s not going to be pleasant.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding with a hard swallow, wincing from just the idea of it.
The guys share a quick look, an unspoken conversation passing between them, then Chase slides his palm into mine as Hugh gingerly lifts my leg and slides the boot onto my foot. It’s a snug fit, so he has to tug a little to get it over my heel. I squeeze Chase’s hand, gripping it tightly as pain ricochets through me.
After a minute, my boot is laced up and the deed is done.
“Thank you,” I tell them both as I release Chase from my death grip.
He immediately pulls off his pack and begins digging things out of it. He tosses the first aid kit to Hugh, who unzips it and starts rifling through it. Then Chase pulls out a multitool and begins slicing into his pack.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a daze as he cuts through the heavy-duty fabric, but Chase is too busy cutting two of the support rods free from his pack’s frame.
He hands them to Hugh, then motions to my pack with his hand. “Give me hers,” he says, and Hugh’s quick to toss it over to him.
They’re ignoring me and rather than being offended, I’m enthralled at how easily they dive into a focused rhythm with each other, like they’re two parts of the same well-oiled machine. Hugh braces my ankle on either side with the supports, then Chase binds them to me with an ace bandage from the first aid kit.
Neither of them speak as they work in tandem harmony, as though they can read each other’s mind. No, as Hugh’s hands move and Chase’s flow behind him, it’s like they share one mind.
So entranced by their perfectly coordinated movements, I don’t realize Chase has dug my paperback novel out of my backpack until he’s bracing it against the back of my boot heel, straightening my ankle.
I wince at the pressure, but suck in a deep breath and grit my teeth.
Without a word, Hugh takes the bandage from his brother’s hand and wraps it around the book and my foot. They certainly worked well together when I was naked, their hands and mouths exploring me in the most delicious ways. Now I see their determined solidarity extends outside of sexy fun times, and it buoys my spirits.
Maybe, just maybe, it’ll be enough to help us work through the complicated knots of an unconventional relationship. But before that’s even a possibility, we have to get to water, and then to safety.
Their hands gently release my leg and I eye the makeshift splint. It’ll definitely keep my ankle from further injury and speed up the healing process, but there’s no way I can walk on it right now. No matter how ingenious their contraption is, it won’t help me put weight on my ankle.
Maybe I could use a fallen branch as a crutch and hobble along. But God, that’ll be so slow going. We’ll never make it to the river before nightfall.
“You’re not walking,” Chase says firmly, as though he can tell exactly what I’m thinking.
Without waiting for a reply, he turns away as he and his twin quickly put everything back in our packs. I assumed Hugh would be the one carrying me since he made a joke about it, but instead he hefts Chase’s bag onto his back and slips my smaller pack onto his front. Then they both reach for me, two sets of hands helping me up from the ground.
From the looks on their faces, it’s as if they experience every bit of the pain I feel. They hold me steady as a spell of dizziness hits and my vision goes dark for a moment. I force myself to stay centered. Now is not the time to be passing out.
“Time for a piggy back ride,” Chase announces.
There’s a lighthearted tone in his voice, but the concern in his eyes betrays the seriousness of the situation.
With Hugh’s help, and more than a few whimpers as my ankle throbs excruciatingly, I climb on Chase’s back. I squeeze my thighs to his side and wrap my legs around his waist as comfortably as I can manage. He curls his forearms under my knees, holding me tight.
“We’re almost there,” Hugh says, adjusting my bag until it’s strapped securely against his chest. “If we don’t stop, maybe another hour at the most.”
I grit my teeth and nod. “I’ll make it.”
They take me at my word, and I drop my head against Chase’s shoulder. He smells of sweat and smoke. Every step he takes, every bounce in his stride, makes my foot jostle. I fight the urge to cry.
I can be strong for them. For myself.
I clench my teeth and blink back tears as we make our way down the mountainside, my heart overwhelmed with gratitude and affection for the two men who’ve somehow managed to become nearly my whole world in just a few short days.
Screw burgers and fries.
When we get out of here, I’m treating them to the best goddamn steak dinner they’ve ever had.
13
MEGAN
Between the fatigue of the hike and the exhaustion of the pain, I’ve almost been lulled into sleep as Chase carries me to the base of the mountain. I blink out of my stupor at Hugh’s shout of elation, then Chase lets out a similar whoop of joy and picks up his pace.
Going faster jostles my ankle harder, but right now all I care about is the sparkling river that comes into view ahead of us.
We’ve lucked out. This part of the river has a wide, rocky shoreline that stretches a hundred yards from the edge of the forest to the water, which means the ground goes from charred and ash to blessedly normal.
Chase carefully picks his way over the river rocks while I cling to him, but Hugh charges forward at a dead run.
He strips off the two packs as he goes, dropping them to the ground, and proceeds to wade into the river until he’s knee deep. He dunks his head under and lets out another shout as he resurfaces.
By the time Chase and I make it to the river’s edge, the ground is nothing but hard-packed sand, and Hugh is wading back towards us, shaking his head and shoulders with a big grin, water droplets spraying off his hair.
Chase kneels down and I kiss him on the cheek before carefully lowering myself off of him. I settle on the ground, my braced leg outstretched, and scoop up a handful of the sand. It’s gritty and damp and feels like a miracle.
I close my eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of the river rushing by, the clump of sand squeezed tight in my fist.
We actually made it, jacked up ankle and all.
I resist the urge to scoot over to the water and just start sucking it into my mouth. Instead, I anxiously wait as Hugh digs a water filtration system out of one of the bags.
With the efficient movement that only comes from experience, he unravels the clear tube, checks the ceramic filter, then crouches at the river’s edge and starts pumping water into the bottle. It goes so slow, enough that I want to yell at the little filter to hurry up, but I know the device can only go so fast.
Chase is a few feet away from us, splashing water on his face over and over. I’m tempted to hobble over there to do the same.
My skin is tight and dry from the miles of hot air we’ve hiked through, and even the little bit of sweating I did was no comfort. The salt made it worse, especially as the drops would touch my lips and I’d dart out my tongue to taste them.
The water bottle is half full when Hugh stops and holds it out to me. “Here,” he says, but I shake my head.
“No way,” I tell him. “You and Chase drink first. You had it rough coming down the mountain, making a path for us, and Chase carried me all the way down here. I’ll have my turn after you guys.”
Hugh doesn’t withdraw the water bottle to take a sip. Instead, he cocks his head and gives me a firm, commanding look that makes a shiver run up my spine.
“Not happening,” he tells me in his no-bullshit tone, the one I’ve already come to k
now means he’s made up his mind. “We’ll drink after you’ve had your fill, not before.”
Fine. I don’t have the willpower to argue with him, not when he’s shoving clean water in my face. I take the bottle in both hands and turn it up, downing big gulps.
The water is so cold it makes me gasp.
The river is fed from distant glaciers, snow melt, and underground springs in the mountains, and in this moment it’s the best thing I’ve ever drank. As the cold water with the sweet crystalline taste slides down my parched throat, I decide I’ll give up coffee for the rest of my life if it means I can keep drinking this.
I tip the bottle all the way up, even running my tongue over the edge to capture every drop. Hugh huffs out a laugh at me and all I can do is shrug. He’s already working the pump to fill up the second bottle, and Chase is pulling out the second water filtration system as well as the small camp stove.
“May as well get food going,” he says as he attaches the small propane canister to the metal burner.
“Yeah, seriously, I’m starving,” I say instinctively, but as soon as the words are out of my mouth I realize it’s true.
The water is sitting heavy in my stomach but not in a painful way, thankfully. We aren’t so dehydrated we need to use caution in drinking, but still, I should pace myself, because I could easily down another full bottle and then I would be hurting.
Now that my thirst has eased a bit, my stomach is letting me know it’d like to have something more substantial. Hunger pains cramp in my stomach, grabbing attention away from my ankle—until I turn my eyes on Hugh, that is.
Clean, filtered water finally reaches the brim of the bottle Hugh is filling, and he tips it up, taking long swallows of it. We’re in the middle of a tense survival situation, but watching Hugh hold the bottle up and drink with big, thirsty gulps feels more like witnessing a steamy outdoor video shoot. It’s such a benign act, but somehow he makes it look damn enticing without even trying.
I trail my gaze down the line of his arched neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow, his bicep flexing as he holds the bottle. His tanned, wet skin is streaked with ash, his hair ruffled from where he’s dragged his fingers through it, and his jaw and cheeks are shadowed with thick scruff.
Behind him is the beautiful river, creating a perfect backdrop to his rugged sexiness. The color of the grass along its banks is untouched by the ravaging fire, and the whole setting is framed by a clouded sky, which the sun’s rays are fighting valiantly to break through.
I blink out of my stupor as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and I reach out for him.
“Help me to the river?” I ask, grabbing up my water bottle with my other hand. “I want to soak my ankle, and I may as well work on filtering water while I’m at it. No need to be totally useless.”
Reaching the river has changed the mood between all of us, I can feel the relief flowing between us, and I see it in the guys’ expressions.
No matter what we choose from this moment on, we have water at least. We’re not going die of dehydration. We’ve overcome one of the many challenges facing us, and it’s lifted our spirits.
“Good idea,” Hugh says as he crouches down to wrap my arm around his shoulder.
He leverages me up and I bite back a hiss as my ankle throbs. But I keep it off the ground as he helps me hobble gingerly over the hard sand and then lowers me back down at the water’s edge. I purse my lips as I consider simply shoving my whole leg into the water, shoes, socks, pants and all.
“Here’s this, if you want to strip down instead of getting your pants soaked,” Chase says, tossing me the poncho liner we’d used as a blanket the night before.
“Thanks,” I tell him, smiling at the suggestive look on his face. “Any excuse to get my pants off, yeah?”
Chase gives me a big, guilty grin and shrugs. “I’ll never say no to getting you out of clothes.”
Hugh carefully unwraps my ankle, removing the metal braces and my novel-turned-makeshift splint. He sets them to the side, away from the water, while I pull off the boot and sock adorning my good foot.
I’m not embarrassed at all as my hands go to undo my zipper and I start wiggling out of my pants. Before I have them off my hips, I pause, clenching my hands into fists as Hugh slowly takes my other boot off and pulls my wool sock down as gently as he can. He shoots me a look of apology and I nod for him to just get it over with.
As Hugh predicted earlier, I’m pretty sure it’s not broken.
I broke my arm years ago and remember that feeling vividly. My ankle doesn’t have that same deep feeling of wrongness. But broken or not, livid bruises of deep purple and blue are already wrapped around my ankle like a macabre tattoo.
My sock, boot, and the tight bracing the guys did helped constrict the swelling some, but it’s still pretty puffy. Maybe the cold water will help the swelling and let me put my boot back on when we have to move.
With Hugh’s help, I carefully peel off my pants, grinding my teeth as I slide my foot out of the pant leg. Hugh is so meticulous in being gentle that I find myself blinking back tears.
Not because of pain, but because of the sudden rush of emotions tugging at my heart—adoration, gratitude, and... dammit, what feels a lot like love.
It’s stupid, it’s too soon, and it’s too much, but every part of my being, from my brain to my heart, is throwing all of that out of the window.
The truth is, I’m completely smitten with this man in front of me. Hugh’s ever so gently sliding my ankle out of my pant leg, an expression of sorrow painting his features the entire time, as if knowing I’m in pain is killing him.
I turn to look at his brother, determination on his face as he works diligently to get a meal cooking for us, and my heart pounds even harder, because I feel the same way about him, too, as impossible as it is.
My attention is drawn back to Hugh as he folds my pants and sets them beside the rest of my stuff. Then Chase appears behind me and his hands slide under my arms, lifting me as Hugh sneaks a corner of the blanket under me. Chase wraps the rest of the blanket around my back and shoulders, then hugs me against his chest.
A tear breaks free and slips down my cheek as I close my eyes and reach over my shoulder, holding Chase’s head as he embraces me.
I’m cold, I’m hurt, I’m hungry, and still so damn thirsty. And I also know, beyond reason and logic—so far beyond anything rational that there’s nothing left to do but just accept it—I’m in love with these brothers.
Hugh moves out of my sight, and I hear him rustling through one of our packs. I tilt my head back to Chase’s shoulder and turn my face to his cheek, breathing him in deeply, needing the physical confirmation of everything I’m feeling in my chest.
Chase responds as though his needs are the same, and he places his lips on mine ever so tenderly, moving against me slowly as though he wants to savor every second of our connection.
It’s not full of desperate longing or even heated desire.
This is something different, a quieter passion, softer but more monumental, and I pour everything I’m feeling into our kiss. It might just be my hopeful imagination, but I swear he kisses me back with the same swell of emotions. It’s both a declaration and a promise, even if our future isn’t certain, even if we only have these days together, trapped in the wilderness.
When we separate, he leans his head against mine, sharing the same air as we breathe deeply, and his touch helps settle the torrent of emotions swirling inside me.
“Let’s get your foot in the water,” he whispers at last, as if he regrets needing to break the moment we’re sharing to tend to the demands of our situation.
Right on cue, my ankle throbs sharply, pulling me back to the task at hand.
Chase adjusts the blanket as I hold my injured leg up and scoot closer to the river until I’m close enough that my ankle can be fully submerged. I lower my leg, and when water touches the underside of my calf, I gasp at the cold hitting my skin.
But the moment I let my foot sink into the water, I breathe a sigh of relief.
The numbing chill dulls the pain almost instantly. The water is only marginally warmer than ice, but it’s the perfect balm against the searing ache gripping my ankle.
“Water filter?” I ask as soon as I’m settled with the blanket wrapped around me once more, staving off the chill of the river from the rest of my body.
“Here,” Chase says, pressing it into my hands. He also holds out a small, white, square packet. “Ibuprofen—now that you have some water to choke them down with and I’m not battering your ankle on a jog down the mountain, it should help with the pain and swelling.”
“Oh my God, yes!” I exclaim, gratefully snatching the packet out of his hand. “Thank you!”
I carefully set the packet on the ground and begin to work the filter, the icy water gushing into the bottle with every slow pump of the handle.
“I’m going to walk the length of the river bank to see if there’s anything we can use to make a shelter for tonight,” Chase announces.
Hugh just waves a hand at him dismissively and takes over meal duties at the little propane stove. Chase strides off down river as his twin drops one of our meal pouches into the pot of boiling water. I keep working the water filter, watching Hugh and trying not to fret as Chase separates from us, disappearing from sight around a bend.
Once the water bottle has a few swallows in it, I set the filter down and tear open the packet. As I take the medicine, I think about how much worse this whole ordeal could be.
We could have lost all of our gear and be without food, tools, or an easy way to start a fire. We could be forced to drink unfiltered water and risk getting giardia or some other miserable parasite from the river water instead of having clean, safe water that we don’t have to boil. Even if we don’t have shelter for tonight, we have three warm bodies and a blanket to huddle together under.
The worst part about our situation is me, actually.
I’m injured, which means I’m going to hold them back, wasting precious energy and time.
