by Bella Blake
Suddenly, Chase’s shoulders jerk with a cough and his chest rises and falls beneath my hands.
Oh, thank fuck.
“He’s breathing,” I tell Hugh as a wave of relief rushes through me so strongly I almost feel sick from the residual jangling of my nerves.
Chase comes to fully, hacking and gasping for air.
Then the roar of the rapids drowns everything out as the water rushes violently over the rocks, the sound echoing off the cliff towering over us. It’s so high now it blocks out the sun and I shiver, my bones aching with the chill, and I know Chase is freezing against me.
I’m terrified he’s got broken ribs, or worse, that he has a punctured lung or even a head injury, so I wrap my arms around his shoulders as snug as I dare. Then I tuck my face against his neck, protecting his body as best I can, my mind frozen with fear as I wait for the canoe to be smashed against the rocks.
My stomach drops out from under me as the nose of the canoe plummets, a wave of water drenching us. The river swallows the canoe, but spits us out just as fast, spinning us in its grip.
We launch into the air and even Hugh’s ass lifts from the seat with the velocity of the river’s thrust. A moment later we slam back into the river only to be jerked sideways as a swell of icy water spills into the boat.
I tighten my grip on Chase, holding him to me as the rapids toss us violently.
Rocks scrape against the hull, battering us between them like a pinball machine. We spin one direction and then the next, rocking hard as the water churns, and the canoe rises and falls rapidly, over and over.
Clenching my eyes shut, I try to pretend I’m on a carnival ride, with the mantra we’ll make it through this repeating over and over in my mind, because I refuse to believe anything else.
Then, the cacophony is behind us as quickly as it had engulfed us.
The river suddenly settles down, its surface smoothing out into a mirror-like calmness that’s only broken by debris and our wake.
I shudder, my lungs burning and my heart aching.
The inside of my cheek is sore and there’s a faint metallic taste on my tongue, but I wipe a hand down my face and look around, blinking away the water droplets clinging to my eyelashes.
By some miracle, we’re all still in the canoe. Hugh is hunched forward with his forearms resting on his knees. He gasps for air, his chest heaving under his soaked shirt.
“Hugh?” My voice is full of concern as I shift under Chase’s weight.
Hugh has first responder training—and I’m desperate to know if Chase is okay.
The edge of the bench seat is digging into my shoulder and my hips are screaming at me, but that’s nothing compared to the renewed pain in my ankle. And yet, none of that matters because Chase sits up with a groan and presses a hand against his side.
Hugh drops from the seat onto his knees and gives Chase a quick once-over, running a hand over his ribs, his fingers massaging across his twin’s scalp, checking his pulse and then his pupils.
A second later, Hugh throws his arms around Chase, who reaches up and hooks his own arms around his brother.
There’s a profound quiet between them, and Hugh’s knuckles are white where his fingers press into Chase’s back. Their heads are together, and I silently witness Hugh’s hard swallow and the relief in the set of Chase’s shoulders.
They pull apart with a rough clearing of throats, but it’s my turn to choke up as Hugh sits back on his haunches and takes in a deep breath, giving me a nod that makes my heart soar.
That was too damn close.
A lump forms in my throat and another in the pit of my stomach as I think about how Hugh could have lost his brother, his twin brother, the sibling that’s been with him since the womb. And about how my soul felt like it was being wrenched from my body when I couldn’t find Chase, and then how my heart stopped when his hand went limp and he slipped under the water.
I pull a long draw of air in through my nose, urging my brain to catch up to the fact that Chase is alive, we’ve made it past the burning tree, and we’re out of the rapids.
“You okay?” Chase asks, his voice rough and a grimace marring his gorgeous features as he twists around to look at me.
“I’ll live,” I say, waving a hand to dismiss him. Then I reach for the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to see the damage the log caused. “I’m more worried about you.”
There are bright, angry red marks welting his skin, but no other sign of injury. I run my hand gently over his ribs, his skin twitching as I do, and he lets out a hiss. I shoot him a concerned look and he pulls my fingers away carefully and gives them a reassuring squeeze.
“Give me a beer and I’ll be fine,” he says with a small smile.
I want to argue with him. How can he dismiss something so easily that could have taken him from us?
Tears push against the back of my eyes and my stomach crawls up my throat. I fling my arms around him, making us both grunt as our injuries twinge, but I cling to him, burying my face against his neck.
My love for these two men is fierce and all-consuming, and now that we’re safe, the fear and worry I’ve been holding inside rises to the surface.
Shivers begin to wrack my body, starting from my legs before wrapping around my spine and traveling along my arms. The tears pour out, molten warmth on our chilled skin, and we hold each other tighter. Small drops of wet heat trail down my own shoulder as we confront our mortality within each other’s arms without shame.
I pull back, sniffing and wiping my eyes, before pressing my lips hard against Chase’s. It’s a rough connection, shorter than either of us wants, but it’s full of gratitude and adoration.
We still have a long way to go to the highway bridge, but dammit, we’re going to make it. The three of us, we have something special. I know it in my bones.
Mother Nature has thrown one thing after another at us and we’re all still here. Still together.
Chase carefully staggers upright, his arms stretched out for balance and he shifts around me to his pack stored in the front of the bow.
Even though the guys lashed the bags down before we set off, I’m amazed the packs are still in the canoe given the crazy ride we’ve just been through. It speaks volumes about how well these guys know their stuff.
I press a hand against his hip, steadying him carefully as much as I can, until he’s able to pull out the makeshift blanket we’ve been using at night. He shakes it out, water drops flinging through the air, and grumbles.
“Our bags are soaked. The food should be fine, since it’s sealed, but basically everything else is soggy.”
He sits carefully on the bench seat, his knees on either side of my shoulders as we face Hugh, who’s using both oars to gently guide us down the river.
Our pace has slowed to a languid float, totally belying the terrifying ride we’d been on.
“What about that one?” I ask, pointing at the corner of my backpack that’s just barely visible behind Hugh. “Think it’s just as soaked?”
A look over his shoulder is all it takes for Hugh to know. “Likely the same. There might be some dry clothes in the middle but—”
“Oh shit,” I interrupt him, scrambling onto my knees as the thought occurs to me, making the canoe sway back and forth. “What about my phone? Did it survive?”
Hugh’s face twists with pessimism, but he still sets the oars down and turns to dig out my phone from the side pouch. He hands it to me, and I scramble to turn it on, praying that the black screen lights up.
I know the battery is almost dead, but it should have enough to make one quick a phone call, if it’ll even work at all now.
I hold my breath for as long as I hold the power button before the air rushes from me in relief. The screen lights up white, the phone’s logo shining up at me like a blessed beacon of hope. The battery icon is blinking red, showing that it has less than three percent of its charge left.
But what catches my eye—the thing that makes me hold
my breath again—is the small sliver of the extended network symbol that shows up.
“I’ve got a signal!” I try not to scream, but I’m fucking elated. “It’s not much, but it’s there!”
19
MEGAN
Before either of them can say anything, my fingers fly over the screen, calling emergency services. I put the phone to my ear, my breath caught in my throat.
I hear nothing, though, and look at the screen again, my elation fading quickly. The phone’s trying to connect, but it’s struggling with the weak reception. The battery drops to one percent, then the screen flashes and it powers down.
My shoulders slump in defeat and I can’t look at either of the guys as I settle back onto my ass in the canoe.
“It couldn’t connect, and the battery’s dead,” I mumble.
“Hey.” Hugh’s hand reaches forward, cupping my face, tilting my chin up to meet his beautiful blue eyes. “The signal means we’re going in the right direction. We’ll get there.”
I chew on my lower lip, holding back the tears that are burning my eyes again. A long sigh and a nod, and I hand him back the phone. “You’re right. I just—I had hoped, was all.”
From behind me, Chase’s arms wrap around my shoulders, squeezing tightly. “Hope is good. Hang on to that, because that’s what it’ll take for us to make it out of here.”
I press my cheek against his bicep, his touch reminding me that, phone call or not, we have what matters—our lives. I hold Chase’s arms to me, and he squeezes tighter, as though he shares the same unspoken sentiment.
We settle into a long silence as we float down river. Hugh keeps us on course and aids our speed with occasional strokes of the oars while Chase and I huddle together.
The heat from the wildfire grows more intense the further we go down the river. The flames are bright and unrelenting, and my ears are filled with a roaring sound, punctuated by sharp snaps as limbs break free and fall.
Instead of the blackened trunks and red-hot ash we passed earlier, this part of the forest still has some green life in it—but it won’t for long. It’s hypnotizing to watch as the fire consumes the trees, tall flames crawling up their trunks like a perverse vine.
A sense of awe builds at the base of my spine, a strange mixture of fear and fascination at being so close to mortality. If we land, the fire will take us just as it’s taking the forest, but for now we’re completely safe in the canoe.
“How far do you think it goes?” I ask in wonder.
Hugh doesn’t seem to be as enthralled by the destruction as Chase and I are, but he’s also a firefighter and he’s not only seen these types of fires up close before, he’s risked his life battling them.
“No telling,” Hugh answers. “All depends on the wind. If we’re lucky, and the wind settles down, we might outpace the fire.”
There’s a pain in his voice and I can tell he’s thinking of his crew. I squeeze his knee. “I’m sure they’re safe.”
He nods silently. As much I want my words to provide solace, nothing will ease the burdens weighing on him until we’re out of here and he gets news about the other smokejumpers.
With another squeeze, I pull back and change the subject.
“If the fire hits the highway, what are we going to do?” I ask. “Just keep going to the next town?”
Chase’s chest heaves behind me, his breath tickling my ear. We’re finally warming up at least, and our clothing is more on the damp side rather than absolutely soaked like it was earlier.
“We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there,” he says at last. Both Hugh and I groan at his pun.
“Don’t make me regret fishing you out of the river,” Hugh warns, but he’s smiling.
As awful as the pun is, it’s the release we need. We’re not nearly as relaxed as we’d been starting out this morning, but the fear is fading with each hour that passes as we draw closer to what will hopefully be our exit point.
The sun continues its journey across the sky, and I note with tired eyes that the cliff on the side of the river slowly begins a downward slope as we travel, until the bank is once more at the level of the river.
Now that the towering cliff has receded away, it’s clear that the fire must have jumped the river at some point, because flames have left their mark on that side, too.
The forest is nothing more than a charred skeleton of its former glory.
I’m lulled into a doze, catnapping lightly as Chase holds me. I don’t know how much time passes—it feels like mere seconds and an eternity all at the same time, but I’m stirred out of my sleep by the hunger pains growing in my stomach.
After a brief discussion, we agree to forgo taking the time to go to shore to cook something, and that it’s not worth the risk trying to set up the camp stove in the canoe.
Instead, we sip on water and do our best to ignore our growling stomachs. It’s embarrassing, trying to figure out the bathroom situation, but we manage it with humor and as much dignity as the situation allows.
Then we just talk, for hours.
I share the details of my job at the marketing firm, and how I didn’t plan to work in the corporate world as long as I have. I tell them about Vanessa, and how we’ve been best friends for ages.
We talk about pets, and I mention my adorable fluff-ball of a cat. Talking about Chica makes me hope that Vanessa has remembered she has my spare key and has thought to check on her. I’m always overcautious when I’m leaving for a trip and make sure to give her a ridiculous amount of extra food and water, so I’m sure she’s fine. But she’s going to be mad about her litter box, for sure.
We talk about everything and nothing—our dreams, our plans, mistakes we’ve made, people we’d love to meet.
It’s as though the canoe is our safe space, our own judgement-free zone.
Hell, I even tell them about how I accidentally set my first apartment building’s parking garage on fire for a minute, before I grabbed the fire extinguisher and doused the flames in white foam.
I’ve never told anyone that, other than the landlord.
I tell them other things I never speak about, not even to Vanessa.
How scared I was when my dad got sick, how I burned bridges with friends in college when I was young and stupid and feeling adrift in life. I pour out everything that’s clung to my heart, all the stuff I’ve kept bottled inside, the million little worries and the big ones that overshadowed everything else in my life, like when my dad passed away.
And they respond in kind.
Hugh shares how he’d planned to join the Coast Guard when he finished high school, but that he’d backed out because he was scared—and even Chase seems surprised by that.
I never would have thought of Hugh as the type to back down from anything, but I guess we all have our own demons to face. He’s certainly not letting fear stand in his way now. He jumps out of damn planes into fires these days.
Maybe he is a little crazy… but I love that about him.
Chase has his own surprise confessions, too, like the fact that he’s been taking online classes and is close to earning a degree in business.
His face lights up as he tells us about his dream of turning his knowledge of this land and love of the outdoors into a full-fledged business. How he wants the freedom that being an entrepreneur gives him, but he also wants to build financial security.
The river stays smooth, and Hugh rests the oars, letting us move at the current’s pace. He keeps us on course, but saves his energy otherwise.
The sun begins to set, and the river darkens, making me anxious that we can’t see ahead to know if there are obstacles or dangerous rapids. The fires on either side have retreated away from the river’s edge, taking the only remaining source of light with them.
Fortunately, our headlamps have survived the dunking, but my flashlight didn’t. And my Highlander romance is definitely ruined. It’s easily replaced at least.
I’ll sacrifice a million books to the
river if it means I get to keep these two men and we all make it out of here alive.
Chase takes the oars from Hugh and trades places with him as the night covers us in darkness. We decide to risk it, to keep floating down the river instead of landing on the bank. There’s really nowhere to lay down, and even the middle where I’m at isn’t big enough to curl up in, so Hugh hunches over, cradling his head on his arms against his knees.
The paranoia of all the things that could go wrong keeps me sleeping so lightly that I wake up each time something scrapes against the boat.
I offer to take a turn at the helm and work the oars, but Chase and Hugh wave me off and tell me to rest. I don’t fight them on it, because I can tell that having something to do is keeping them grounded.
Instead, I hold on to hope like Chase told me to.
I hope that we find the highway soon and that we can get out of here with no further injuries. I hope it’s not a long walk into town once we reach the bridge. I hope that we can find a hotel with room service so that we can eat, sleep, then wake up and eat some more, without ever leaving the room. Hell, if I could take a bucket of fried chicken to bed with me right now I’d snuggle with it like it was a suitcase of gold.
But most of all, I hope that we can figure out a way to stay together once we rejoin the real world.
I don’t know how much sleep we all get by the time the sky begins to lighten, but it can’t have been much.
As dawn fills our world with the soft glow of the rising sun, it’s a relief to see pine trees and thickets of spruce that are still adorned in green. We’ve finally outpaced the fire.
Renewed optimism rises in my chest as I stretch out my stiff and sore muscles. Hugh is back on point, manning the oars, while Chase is dozing behind me. His steady, light snoring makes me smile. I will take snoring any day, as long as it means he’s alive and breathing.
I turn my attention to Hugh. His face is lined with exhaustion, his eyes are dark, and the stubble on his jawline looks extra scruffy right now. He’s holding the oars loosely, letting gravity do most of the work of keeping them on his lap.
