by Bella Blake
He offers me a weak smile, and I mouth a silent good morning.
“Morning,” Hugh whispers back, but then he looks past me, his eyebrows furrowing together as he squints through the early morning light at something down river. Suddenly he snaps to attention, prodding Chase with the oar. “Chase, wake up. Look!”
Chase bolts awake and turns around to look ahead of us, then lets out a triumphant whoop. I crane my neck, twisting to see what has them so excited. I just make it out in the distance—a dark man-made structure that rises over the river.
The bridge.
We made it to the bridge! But it’s more than that. There are flashing lights on top of it—red and blue, along with a cluster of bright flood lights. It’s still too far away to see anyone on it, but those lights have to mean emergency response crews.
I can’t tell if it’s fire, police, or forest rangers, but I’ll take any and all of them.
Tears of joy trail quietly down my cheeks, which are burning with how widely I’m smiling. Holy shit, we’ve really done it. We’ve actually survived.
“Give me your headlamp,” Hugh tells his brother.
Chase digs the light out of his pack and tosses it to Hugh, who passes him the oars. Hugh carefully stands up in the canoe and I grasp both sides, trying to help Chase keep it balanced.
Hugh twists the knob on the headlamp to the emergency beacon setting and clicks the light on and off and on again, the glow of the red bulb washing over his face each time.
“Come on, someone look over here,” he mutters, but he never stops signaling.
My heart skips as we drift closer, all of us watching for any sign that we’ve been seen.
“Yes!” Hugh and Chase shout at the same time as the flood lights turn toward us, casting us in a vivid beam. It’s like all the fear is sucked out of me instantly, leaving a strange vacuum behind.
“Give me an oar.” Hugh sits down and tosses the headlamp in my lap. “Chase, we need to get as close as we can to the left bank.”
“I’m on it,” Chase replies, digging his paddle into the water.
The two of them navigate us to the side of the river and Hugh squeezes my knee with a wink. “I hope you got enough sleep, because we should be in a room with a real bed in just a few hours.”
For as exhilarating and terrifying of a journey we’ve had, the actual rescue is almost anti-climatic in its efficiency. Just before the bridge on the left bank is a slim section of sandy shore, a perfect spot to land a small canoe.
The moment we get close, the canoe is swarming with people in uniforms, the beams from their headlamps and flashlights nearly blinding us.
People are talking, shouting orders at each other, and peppering us with questions. It’s a bedlam of organized chaos after the solitude of the last few days, and all my senses are quickly overwhelmed as my body and mind succumb to the exhaustion I’ve been keeping at bay for days.
All I can think about is getting Chase checked out as soon as possible, and I stumble over my words as I tell someone about his injury, forgetting about my own. But the guys are talking, too, and I hear one of them mention my ankle. Within moments, I’m being gently lifted by kind strangers and strapped to a board by a team of paramedics.
“Chase? Hugh?” I call out for them, a tinge of panic seeping into my voice.
I know we’re safe, but I can’t stomach the idea of being separated from them. I want to search the crowd for them, but my arms are tight against my side, and even my head is braced against the board as they secure me for transport.
“I’m here.” Hugh’s voice cuts through the din and I feel his hand squeeze mine. It grounds me, knowing he’s right beside me.
“Stay with me?” I choke out.
“The team begins to carry me up the hillside to the bridge. They keep the board level, but I can tell how steep the incline is by the way Hugh’s hand tugs on mine and then finally pulls out of my grasp.
“Right behind you,” he assures me the second we break contact.
From how loud he is, I know he’s close. The people carrying me are talking about me as they relay information to the rest of the crew, but I can only focus on Hugh’s voice.
“Chase is behind us,” he assures me. “He’s on a board, too, and he’s being a real baby about it.”
I laugh, because I can picture it—even after everything we’ve been through, it sounds just like Chase to insist he doesn’t need to be carried out.
New voices surround me as I’m set on a stretcher. The sky is a dusky blue, and the clouds above me have turned to pinks and purples like whimsical, carefree strokes of a celestial paint brush. Then I hear doors opening and I’m lifted into an ambulance and finally the straps holding me are released.
“My name is Joe.” A middle-aged man in a blue uniform shirt is in my face, a small pen light in his hand, which he shines in my eyes, one at a time. “Follow the light please. Good. The gentleman said your ankle is sprained?”
“Yeah,” I answer as I struggle to sit up, my tired body feeling like it’s full of lead. “It happened a few days ago… maybe three?”
He offers me a hand with a kind look on his face, and once I’m in a sitting position, he puts one hand against my knee, keeping my foot still.
I furrow my brow, trying to remember the exact passage of time, but it seems like I’ve been in the wilderness for weeks, not days.
“I soaked it in the river and took some ibuprofen,” I tell him. “And I’ve kept it in the splint as much as possible.”
“I’m going to take that off now, and have a look at it,” he says.
I clench my jaw as the paramedic takes off the ingenious splint Chase and Hugh made for me. He rolls up my pant leg and I think he asks me if it’s okay that he cuts the laces of my boot to get it off, but I can’t be sure—my mind is having trouble focusing and I can’t help thinking about how Chase’s assessment is going.
I nod at the paramedic, giving him permission to do whatever he needs to.
As he removes my boot and prods my ankle, it hurts, but I’m too busy looking out of the ambulance to pay much attention to the pain. Instead, I take in the scene on the bridge. It’s like a beehive out there, with people moving in every direction, but I don’t spot either of the guys.
Then suddenly Hugh is there, an orange blanket around his shoulders like a cape. He looks like a dastardly wild man with his hair all askew and several days of stubble on his cheeks—just my type. I tell him as much when he climbs into the ambulance and takes a seat next to me.
“Maybe I should consider keeping it, then,” he teases, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “How’s the ankle?”
Hugh is asking me, but Joe answers him. “Bad sprain,” he confirms as he opens a drawer and pulls out a medical splint. “There might still be a fracture in there, so you need to get x-rays.”
I slump. “I just want to go straight to a bed. Not the hospital.”
“You should go though,” Hugh says, reaching out for my hand. “I’ll go, too. Chase will probably need the same work up to make sure his ribs are fine. Plus, there’s Jell-O at the hospital.”
“Don’t leave me.” The words sound small and pleading, but it’s not because of the pain in my ankle or concern about being alone during the ambulance ride.
It’s much more than that.
There’s a weird fear in me that somehow I’ll be taken to a different hospital than Chase, and once I’m separated from the guys, I’ll never see them again. My chin quivers and my throat constricts at the thought, and I squeeze Hugh’s hand tighter.
Ignoring the paramedic—who’s pretending not to pay us any attention—Hugh leans over and kisses me. It’s a soft, tender kiss and it means everything.
“Never, Megan,” he whispers, and I know it’s a bigger promise than just the hospital ride.
He presses a kiss to my knuckles as Joe hops down and closes the doors. With Hugh holding my hand, I close my eyes and let myself take a deep breath. The ambulance rumbles t
o life and then we’re on our way, finally safe from the wildfire.
20
MEGAN
Rain taps against the passenger window and I press my cheek against the cool surface, watching the drops slide down the glass as the hospital disappears in the distance.
I’m lightheaded, but in the good-drugs kind of way.
The familiar pain in my ankle is finally fading with the help of something stronger than ibuprofen. The x-ray confirmed there wasn’t a fracture, but from the swelling and stress I’ve put it through, the doctor was more than happy to give me the heavy stuff.
Hugh is in the front seat, watching the road with half-closed eyes, and I’m thankful the taxi driver realizes we aren’t up for conversation.
Chase is next to me in the back of the taxi, his head leaning back against the seat with his eyes shut. Other than cuts and bruises, he was given an all-clear, too. His ribs are bruised and tender, but none of them are broken.
Considering everything we’ve been through—we’ve made it out relatively unscathed.
The driver drops us off at a large hotel that seems way too upscale for the stranded-in-the wilderness look the three of us have going on. I’m on crunches with a walking boot, while Chase and Hugh both look like they’ve gone three rounds with a thorn bush and lost.
But as we make our way through the opulent lobby and approach the concierge, the woman behind the desk has kindness and empathy in her expression instead of alarm.
“Wilson and Peterson?” She asks, already reaching for a tiny white envelope to slide the room cards inside.
“Yeah.” Hugh musters the energy to give her a tired smile. “None of us have an ID, though.”
She waves his concern away. “We were made aware of the situation. I’ve gone ahead and put you in our largest suite, compliments of the management staff. We figured it was the least we could do for you three after what they said you’ve been through.”
“Thanks, that’s really nice of you,” Chase tells her.
“Yes, it is. By the way, did they happen to give you our bags?” I ask, thinking of my dead cell phone.
Fortunately, I was able to call my mom and Vanessa on a three-way conference call from the hospital. Somehow, reports of our rescue had already made the news.
It was so damn good to hear their voices that I broke down in tears—happiness, relief, and exhaustion pouring out of me.
“I had a bell hop take them up for you,” the concierge clerk answers with a nod. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of removing your clothes and sending them to the laundry. Everything should be clean and dry soon—I’ll have them sent up right away.”
“Oh,” I say with a sigh of joy at the idea of having something clean to slip on after a long, hot shower. “That’s wonderful, thank you.”
“Also,” she continues, “toiletry kits have been placed in the bathroom.”
“Perfect,” Hugh tells her as he runs a hand over his scruffy beard.
Chase slumps against the desk, his entire weight on his forearms. “Any chance we can order room service down here?”
The woman, perfectly coiffed with her blonde hair up in a French twist and a spotless shine of polish on her fingernails, doesn’t even flinch at his unkempt Tarzan appearance. She picks up a pen and gives us an attentive look.
“Of course. Do you want a menu?” she asks. “Our restaurant is open, as well, until nine.”
Chase shakes his head at the idea of going to the restaurant—we’re ready to head straight to the room. With a quick look at Hugh and me, he orders for us.
“Three burgers, the biggest ones you have. Load them up,” he says. “A ton of fries. And three bottles of whatever IPA you have.”
“And cheesecake,” I pipe up. “Or really any cake.”
She gives me a knowing smile that makes me instantly like her. “Of course.” She slides us the room cards and points towards the elevators. “You’re on the eighth floor. I’ll put the order in and tell them to hurry. It shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
“Thanks,” Hugh says for us, tapping the counter with a gesture of gratitude as he turns away.
I carefully make my way over to the elevators, glad that I can at least move on my own with the crutches. Not that I minded the guys carrying me one bit, but it’s nice to be mobile without needing help. Although I have no doubt the guys would scoop me into their arms without hesitation if I asked, they’ve got to be even more tired than I am.
For all the jokes we made about our grand plans for pornstar-level sex once we got to a bed, we each slump against the smooth, dark paneling of the elevator walls the moment we’re inside.
The only sound is the piped-in spa music and the soft pings of the elevator as we rise past each floor because we’re too wiped out to even make small talk. Thankfully, it doesn’t stop to let anyone else on.
Hugh opens the door to our suite, and I blink as I meander through the elegant space. I’ve never been in a hotel room this fancy before. It has a fireplace, for goodness sake, and a full kitchen with a separate dining room.
“One bed,” Chase says with approval when we reach the master bedroom.
“It’s a massive bed, too,” I point out. There’s a second bedroom in the suite—no doubt the hotel staff assumed a group of three people would need multiple beds—but I highly doubt any of us will set foot in there tonight.
The plush duvet and the stack of fluffy pillows on the big bed look so damn inviting that my feet carry me forward instinctively. I almost flop face-down on the bed, but stop at the last second and raise my hands.
“Okay, none of us are allowed on that bed until we’re clean,” I announce. “Seriously.”
“Mmkay,” Hugh mumbles as he collapses on the little loveseat at the foot of the bed with an oof, his eyes already closing as he waves us toward the bathroom.
Chase opens the door and guides me in. It’s amazing—sleek marble counters with thick white towels big enough to be blankets, and the space seems bigger than my whole apartment in the city.
I sit down on the closed toilet, needing to be off of my feet. Crutches aren’t my favorite thing.
“Bath or shower?” Chase asks, waving a finger back and forth between the massive tub on one side of the bathroom and the walk-in shower on the other.
“Bath, for sure,” I answer without hesitation.
Scanning the bathroom counter, where the hotel staff has generously supplied us with a selection of full-sized toiletries, I finally spot what I’m looking for. I wrap my fingers around a bottle of scented body wash and toss it to him.
“Dump a bunch of that in there, please,” I request, flashing him a sweet smile. “I need bubbles. Lots of bubbles.”
He snorts with amusement as he turns on the water to fill the bath. As ordered, he upends the bottle and gives it a big squeeze, and I smile as bubbles foam up almost instantly.
Then he helps me undress, which means taking off my walking cast and then my pants, and it all has to be done in the least sexy way possible to avoid bumping my ankle.
But even still, feeling his hands slide down my thighs, dragging my panties down, I have to tell myself to settle down.
Get clean first, eat some food, then jump him. And his brother.
Holding onto his hand and the bar along the wall, I lower myself into the warm bath. The second I settle into the water, surrounded by piles of luxurious bubbles, I begin to feel human again instead of something a dog dragged in from the wild.
When the tub is full, Chase turns off the water, and I sink down further into the bath, the water coming up past my breasts and the bubbles tickling my chin.
Chase strips down, and my eyes immediately fix on the dark bruises on his side. They’re deep purple and dark grey shadows under the red abrasions lancing across his ribs. He’s insisted it’s nothing, but I see the slight wince on his face as he stretches to pull the shirt over his head.
He steps into the walk-in shower across from me, steam ris
ing to the ceiling from the spray of hot water, and I stop scrubbing with the washcloth because damn.
Chase doesn’t realize what he’s doing to me over there, all naked and wet. Or maybe he does.
I settle back and let myself enjoy the show.
We’ve all been naked together, but this is the first time I’ve gotten to really look at his body. His back muscles ripple under the water as he scrubs his hair, and my gaze trails down his toned waist and the most delicious, firm ass and sculpted thighs I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I’m a lucky, lucky girl because there’s an equally sexy man on the loveseat in the bedroom.
I still can’t quite wrap my mind around that.
For years I’ve been convinced I might never meet the right man and now, somehow, I not only found two perfect men, but my heart’s been stolen by both of them.
As I soak in the view of Chase, it’s not just physical desire building in me—although sweet Jesus, there’s a fire between my legs that even this tub of water couldn’t put out. But the feelings swelling inside me run much deeper than lust.
I want to press my lips to his skin and cover him with gentle kisses, then bury my face against his brother’s neck, wrap my arms around them both, and just forget about the world together.
He turns off the water and snags a towel, drying himself off with quick efficiency. He wraps the thick white towel around his waist, depriving me of my view, and when he catches me staring, he grins knowingly.
“Need help with your hair?” he offers.
I point at his crotch, where there’s a distinct bulge pushing against the fabric of the towel and give him a suggestive smile. “Need help with that?”
As if he can sense the turn of our conversation, the door opens and Hugh steps in. He captures my attention as he instantly starts shedding his clothes.
Mmm, I am lucky indeed.
“Don’t forget food will be here soon,” is all Hugh says as he steps into the shower.
