The water hit my tongue, and I nearly cried.
The water was cold. Clean. Real.
I swallowed once, then again. Some part of my brain, the only part still thinking straight, told me this was the best thing I’d ever tasted.
He poured again, just a little, and then again, tilting it slowly and precisely.
Afterward, he wiped a trickle from my chin with the side of his thumb. His dark eyes held a calm that settled something in me, and I dared believe my story might actually end well today.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “I think I love you.”
That earned me the ghost of a grin, as if he’d heard it before, but didn’t mind hearing it again.
If my breakup with toenail Jimmy led tothis? Then hell, maybe I owed the bastard a thank-you note. Because getting rescued bythis manwas a tale I’d tell everyone back at college.
“I’m Dominic. Call me Dom.”
His voice was deep, though a little gravelly.
“Your dog led me here,” he added. “What an incredible animal!”
“Indeed. I’m Autumn. And that’s Lulu,” I said, already feeling like she was my dog.
He shifted beside me, adjusting something at his hip, fingers working the harness.
“Wait,” I rasped, thinking he was about to take it off. “You’re?—?”
“I’m putting it on you,” he said, already moving. “You need it more than I do.”
Before I could argue, he angled his body close. One arm slipped behind me, strong and stabilizing, holding everything together.
I let out a shaky breath, and without a word, he let me lean into him. My body sagged into the space he created, curling toward the only place that didn’t hurt.
Then his hand slid up, just slightly, searching for a better hold beneath my shoulder.
“Ah…” The pain bit hard, and I jerked instinctively.
His hand paused midair, not pressing, just reading the recoil.
“That hurt?” he asked gently, already knowing.
I gave the smallest nod.
“Dislocated?”
“Feels like it,” I muttered.
His jaw flexed as he scanned my shoulder, assessing.
“All right. We’ll handle that after I get you locked in.”
He guided the webbing of his harness around me, quickly but carefully, settling the straps across my waist and thigh.
The pressure suddenly hit the wrong spots, and I gripped the front of his shirt and buried my face in his side. He didn’t try to pull away. He simply held steady as if telling me:Take what you need. If I’d clawed at him, he would’ve let me.
“You’re all right,” he said. “I’ve got you.”
