by Rachel Hanna
"By foot," I answered Cody with the slightest of hesitations.
He paused, then nodded, like that was just such a slight addition of crazy it didn't bear remarking on.
I didn't mind it this time. Whatever he could do for me, I wanted him to do it fast or get me somewhere that someone else could. "Can we – " I started and broke off in pain.
He nodded, instantly cold and efficient again, and left me there to jog to the place where the branch had fallen. He hefted the container of foam, but took just long enough to actually scope out any flames before he put the container down again, hefted the shoved, threw dirt over what I thought might be embers, not anything big, and then radioed in. He was back to me and the truck in three minutes.
When he slid into the driver's seat, he handed me a bottle of spray. "Topical anesthetic. Go liberal on those legs, and we'll see what's up when we get to your cabin. Unless you want to go straight to ER." He looked at me consideringly.
I looked away, shook the bottle, and began spraying my legs. Instantly the burns subsided into something I could deal with.
"OK, this is going to sound crazy but – "
He blinked slow and turned on the truck. "But you want to go to the finish line. Right. And then ER?"
I considered. "You know burns." I shifted my body on the seat so my legs were closer to him. I couldn't really raise them – they felt like lead weights. Those last two miles to the cabin I would have been cursing myself nonstop. "They hurt, but they feel like burns you get while cooking."
"You mean burns you get while you're cooking," he corrected, leaning down to look at my legs. I kind of liked that.
"You don't cook?" I asked.
He glanced up at me. "I'm more careful," he said. "I don't get burned."
"Right." But my own innate sarcasm was filling the word and I didn't feel picked on or mocked.
"Those must hurt, but you're right about them. We can go to ER if you want."
All the old feelings came back. I never wanted to go to ER. Going to ER was dangerous. Going to ER started cycles up and running again. Where things were calmed down, going to the hospital could make them flare again, apologies and that period of grace lost in an instant.
"Finish line and cabin. And food."
"You didn't eat?" He sounded angry now, again like I was an idiot.
I would have been if I'd gone across the mountain never eating. "I had a fanny pack. I lost it somewhere during the night. Gu and Power Bars and nuts and bread. And there are aid stations, the longest between any is six miles. I've been eating like a pig."
That made him laugh as he navigated out of the clearing, back to the trail. "We're a almost at your finish. What's eating like a pig in these circumstances?"
Saliva rushed into my mouth at the thought. "Chunks of salted, boiled potatoes. Potato chips. M&Ms. Squares of steak, very tender. Cheesecake. Veggies, not recommended because they don't last. Rice. Oatmeal. Oatmeal cookies. More gel blocks and gel packets and gel replacement food things than I've ever seen in my life. And – "
He laughed. "I get the idea. No pizza? Chinese food?"
"Oh," I said. "That sounds good."
He shook his head. "I can run about five miles comfortably. I can run ten if I have to, but I'd rather not. I run trails, sometimes, you're right, but I prefer city streets and I prefer treadmills to those. I think you're completely crazy."
My eyes had closed and I saw no reason to open them again. This was fairly comfortable, just being cared for, driven back to the finish and then not having to walk those last two miles. I nodded. He probably did think I was crazy. I wasn't so far from that assessment myself.
"And," he said, his voice lower, as if he thought I'd already drifted off into sleep. "I think you're awesome and intrepid as hell."
And then I really was asleep.
* * *
Cody tried to convince me to stay in the truck at the finish line while he went up to explain to the race officials.
"I can take your bib," he said, motioning to the plastic coated number that still graced my t-shirt at the hem. Made of something like Tyvek used under shingles on houses. It was intact, but fairly grubby.
"Doesn't hurt my burns to walk," I said, having not tried it yet. "It's just the tired." Didn't need to try that to know it was true. Maybe I could lean against him, one of those strong, shapely arms around my shoulders.
"Do you know how to take care of yourself at all?" he demanded, sounding so I know everything better than you that I forgot about snuggling against him and swung out of the truck without waiting.
"It's for your own good," I said. "If you just show up with my tag, how will they know you didn't kill me in the woods?"
That seemed to piss him off. "Because I'm a fireman?"
I stared at him. Firemen were capable of nefarious acts.
He tried again. "Because they'll be able to see you through the windshield and if they have questions, they can come ask you?" He stood with his arms folded across his chest, looking more paternal than I cared for and way more demanding than I liked from any guy and way hotter than he had any right to. I've never been into the stern, scolding, do-what-I-say-little-girl sexual scenarios, but there was something impressive and a little arousing about Cody's take-charge attitude. Probably the fact that he was actually worried about me.
For whatever reason. How many hours had I known him at this point?
To which Melody would have thrown up a variety of reasons it didn't matter how long I knew him, only mattered what I felt, nattering on and on at me while I thought that even if she was right? I didn't know how I felt. Half like jumping him, half like slugging him. He was irritating and beautiful, aggravating and – beautiful.
The third half of me, so to speak, was pretty sure that nothing that could be called "jumping" was going to happen with me involved until I'd had several long baths and possibly a massage.
The argument was settled when one of the race officials came over to see what we were doing.
While she talked briefly with Cody just past my earshot, I watched longingly as a clutch of runners made it through the finish line. The time was just coming up on 11. Thirty hours make or break. The runners looked tired, bedraggled and elated.
Next year.
The woman who came to the truck was gray haired and lean as a skeleton. Definitely a distance runner. "I'm going to go get you a t-shirt. Can't give you a buckle, but I wanted to personally congratulate you. You took an already tough race and turned it into something so very much harder!"
I laughed. "Am I all recorded? Checked in an everything? I don't want people wandering around looking for me."
"No, indeed, though it would be concerted looking, not wandering. I'm going to fetch the clipboard and your shirt. Do you need a medic to look at your legs?"
And I should have said yes to that. They had medical personnel onsite to take care of unexpected injuries and illnesses. But the burns felt better with the topical on them and an insouciant little fantasy kept playing around in my head, and other lower parts of my body, which rather required that Cody be the one to check out my injuries.
"No, thanks, it's nothing more than you'd get cooking. I've got some spray on them and am going to go take care of them when we leave here." Let her decide if that meant I was bound for the hospital or to a cabin where –
I reigned in my thinking, smiled brightly, and waited for her to go get me a t-shirt and the clipboard for checking me in as of the last aid station I'd passed. I didn't even get credit for the distance I'd run past that. Which I could understand, but seriously, that distance alone had been about 100 miles. And 100 years of change. Because I felt different than the girl who had checked in at the last aid station, eaten a chunk of potato, had some Gatorade and run on.
I looked around for one of the agents of that change, but he was nowhere in sight. Probably utilizing one of the porta-potties. I nodded to myself, scooched into a more comfortable position, and was asleep by the time the
smiling gray haired volunteer returned with t-shirt and clipboard.
* * *
We had a squabble as soon as we reached the cabin. Cody was of the opinion that, having remained in the truck like a good little girl while getting checked in at the finish line, I now needed to be carried into the cabin. I was of the opinion (though I didn't state it aloud) that being carried around the first time, pressed against his chest, the burns fresh, was, if painful, sexy, now it was just silly. Yes, the burns hurt. No, they had nothing to do with whether or not I could walk. Unless someone asked me to walk through saltwater, there was no reason for him to pick me up and carry me.
"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" he demanded, standing so close to the passenger door I couldn't open it and get out.
"I have my reasons," I said. I needed to feel the ground under my feet. I needed to know I could survive being hurt in my new life. "Why do you have to be so stubborn? They're my legs."
Cody bit off something that looked like it started with an explosive F, stared at the sky, then at me, and said, "You're my responsibility."
There was so much pain in those blue eyes it took me a minute to remember myself. But the only thing I could really do then was say gently, "No, I'm not." I pushed the truck door open, slowly but firmly, forcing him to step back or actually shove it closed again, trapping me.
He stepped back, and when the door was open, I swung my legs out, wincing a little as the sunlight hit them. Hard to believe it was only just going on noon. I sat sideways on the truck seat, legs hanging carefully out the open door so they didn't swing back and bump the truck. "Truce," I said. "Walk with me. If something hurts too much, I'll tell you. You can carry me then." Probably just one of those guy things, the whole Big Man Carries Little Woman. My second year in college I'd dated a guy named Roger. Kind of frighteningly good looking, with thick chestnut hair and a bodybuilder body, but he stood no taller than my five-five. It drove him nuts, because apparently before me he'd only dated girls something like five-three and shorter. I'm not sure I would have paid attention to the whole height thing if he hadn't made such a thing out of it, determining what shoes I wore and carrying me absolutely all the fricking time. When I'd try and get free, he'd dig his fingers into one of the muscles on the outside of my leg just above the knee. It didn't hurt at all, but it stopped me from being able to kick at all and thus from being able to get free.
… yeah, I broke up with Roger after about two months. So why had it taken so long with Jason?
And Cody behaving like this made me nervous. I didn't need another guy coming on this strong in my life.
Wait. No. Rethink. Because I wasn't going to have Cody Green in my life. This was just, him helping me into the cabin. His arm around my shoulders, my arm around his waist. That felt great. There was a warmth where our bodies touched, deeper than the heat of the July noon. My skin felt like sparks again, only not the painful biting of the fire on the trail.
Too bad. He'd help me, because he thought he had to. He'd get me to the cabin. Then he was going to look at my legs and go away, right?
A thought that made me feel amazingly bereft. I shook that off. Maybe he'd stay long enough for me to get some Advil in me and then take me to the bus station? No reason for him to do that. Except.
Except damn. No way. Not Cody Green. Next relationship was years away, thank you very much, and the bus station was Monday morning; no way was he staying the night. Melody might think I should start dating – I could hear her in my mind telling me to go for it with Cody right now, only I didn't think she meant just dating – but I needed a break. Some breathing room. Some time to think of what to tell my family because they were still asking, even now, even a year and a half after the divorce. The fact that I was enough in contact with them for them to ask hadn't occurred to them. I needed time.
Some time for me. More than an aborted race from Squaw Valley to Auburn.
I stumbled on some loose ornamental stones halfway through the 40 feet between truck and cabin and waited for Cody to scoop me up and carry me manfully to the door. But he didn't, just paused so I could catch my balance. It wasn't the burns, it was the exhaustion creeping up and catching hold of me. I turned my face up to look at him. He was at least six-one, six-two, something I hadn't paid attention to before. But he didn't use that height to loom over me. There was no intimidation and for whatever reason, when I'd told him I had my own reasons for needing to get to the cabin on my own two feet, he'd backed off and was letting me.
Of course not all guys are like Roger, so self-conscious he had to prove he could sweep me off my feet. Still, I appreciated the freedom such a small gesture afforded me. I smiled up into those ice chip blue eyes and watched him blink, a little confused, before he smiled back. There was no smirk on his lips this time. Our skin to skin contact burned. I wanted to stop right there and go up on tiptoes to kiss his mouth. I wanted to feel his tongue on my lips and then in my mouth, I wanted him to kiss down my throat and into my t-shirt.
No, no, I didn't. Not until I showered. Fantasy or not, my last shower had been at three a.m. before I left my house in Reno and since then? Ugh. I had to be gamey.
"You OK?"
"A little off balance," I said. "It occurs to me in three hours I'll have been up for a day and a half. I might be getting tired."
He gave a mock gasp. "Not you, Wonder Woman!"
I laughed. "Shut up."
I was hardly going to admit it, but the three shallow wood stairs leading up to the short porch before the cabin were almost more than I could manage. I'd been fine up until the ride to the cabin, and the burns truly weren't that bad, more like a cooking accident inexplicably happening to my legs. Had to be the adrenaline, then. I'd been keyed up since leaving my house, really, and if a 100 mile race across a mountain in the dark for several hours of it wasn't enough, there'd been natural disasters and this unnaturally good looking man who appeared to rescue me, even when I didn't think I needed it.
So when the race and the emergencies both ended? So did the last reserves of my energy.
"Come on," he said, starting us up again. "Last haul. Unless you want me to carry you?"
There was the mocking I'd anticipated, and it did what he probably intended: Spurred me up the stairs.
Chapter 5
The cabin was small and decorated in Weekend Cabin Rental. Shag rug installed in the 70s or, if not, from 70s remnants someone bought cheap. Smell of propane or whatever gas heated it. Musty smell of somewhere that's closed up about 50 percent of the time.
We set about opening windows, then found a sunny spot at the old Formica-topped kitchen table and poured glasses of water and sat. Cody sprawled in his chair, long legs spread out in front of him. I kept staring. He was so big, strong and hard, no extra flesh on him. His eyes were such a piercing blue, the brush cut golden in the afternoon sun. The uniform trousers pulled a little tight across his quads when he sat, showing off strong, long-muscled runners legs no matter what he said about how often he did or didn't run.
I tried to make myself stop staring. I tried to stay awake. But my eyes kept fluttering shut and the desire to sleep was stronger than the desire to eat. Which was good. I wasn't ready to go forage somewhere in the Auburn landscape, too tired and must look way too awful, and getting ready to go somewhere wasn't on my list of things to do.
Sleeping was. So if Cody wanted to look at my legs, this was his chance. Then I was stripping off my running clothes and showering and changing into the shorts and t-shirt from my bag, retrieved from the finish line.
Cody ducked out of the cabin after he finished the water, turning into a silhouette on the porch as the brilliant July sunshine hit him. I half waited for the sound of the truck as he made good a chance to escape and told myself it was logical and for the best. But the truck didn't start up and Cody reappeared with a very professional and large first aid kit.
"You can sleep through this if you want. You look done in."
"I need to shower," I sa
id. "In fact, you may want me to shower before you – "
He shook his head. "Want to disinfect those before you run water over them." He grabbed his chair from the table and moved it in front of me, sat down and lifted my left leg carefully into his lap, putting just my heel on his leg. The ankle didn't like it, but it liked the instant cold wrap he broke open and wrapped around it. My knee felt a little hyperextended in that position, but nothing was touching my calf, and that was good.
Until he produced the disinfectant. It was a spray, not that different from the topical he'd used earlier, but that had killed pain. This seemed to ignite it like a fury of bees or like the sparks burning into me again. I sucked in a breath in a sharp hiss and sat upright, trying to pull my leg away.
Cody held onto my foot, not reacting otherwise, and when I caught myself and stopped moving, he nodded and met my eyes. "Sorry. I'll make it quick."
"And that will help how?"
He grinned like I'd made a joke, so I didn't press for an answer. He finished the first leg, and asked for the second. I considered not giving it. Surely I could leap to my feet, knock him over, tear off the cold wrap, run for the door –
Run. Not any time soon. I put my leg up on his lap, and cringed along with the treatment.
"Done," Cody said. "If you go take a shower, some of the soreness will go away and when you come out, I'll give you a back rub."
I eyed him carefully. I hadn't even thought about the fact that I was alone in a cabin with a guy I didn't know. But even as I thought that, we'd been together and isolated for hours already, when other people didn't even know where I was.
Plus he was in more danger than I was. The pain in my legs was receding again. The disinfectant must have some pain killer in it. And with that and him holding my leg, one hand on top of the shoe on his knee, the other cupping the round part of my right calf which hadn't sustained any burns, with those things combined, I was starting to want to feel his hands in other places.
