We turn her so she floats on her back. I slide one arm under her shoulders, the other under her knees. Water slicks across her stomach and hips, and she tilts into me, trusting the hold completely. Her thigh brushes my ribs and my breath stutters. Nico’s hand stays at her jaw, his thumb a calm stroke at her cheekbone, and for a second her eyes flutter shut like the touch soothes and ignites at once.
“Talk to me,” JC says, crouched on the dock beside us. No jokes now, just that calm focus he wears when things could tip.
Carrie drags a breath. “Cold,” she whispers. “My teeth won’t stop.”
“Any pain?” he asks. “Head, chest, cramps?”
She shakes her head and winces. “Just…tired.”
Nico squeezes water from his hair and looks past the trees toward the back of the property. “The outbuilding,” he says. “It has a cot and a space heater. Closer than the clubhouse. We take her there.”
I nod. JC is already shrugging out of his jacket to add another layer over her. Nico rises and holds out his arms. I feel the tug in my chest before I can stop it, but I pass her to him anyway. His hands are careful on her back and under her knees.
“I have you,” he tells her. She rests her cheek against his shoulder, eyes slipping closed.
We move off the dock. Sand sucks at our boots. The lake hushes behind us, the trees opening just enough to give us a path. JC swings the light ahead while I keep pace on Nico’s other side, watching the way Carrie curls in, small and shivering, held tight against him.
The outbuilding sits where the gravel lot gives way to scrub, a squat shed the Reapers use when someone needs to crash or clean up out of sight. Tin roof. Peeling paint. A coil of extension cords by the door. Nico kicks the threshold and I yank the door open. The space smells like cedar shavings and old soap, with a thread of motor oil that never quite leaves anything we own.
Inside there’s a narrow cot, a beat-up dresser, and a kerosene heater with a dented guard. JC drops to a knee and twists the valve. The wick catches with a soft bloom of orange. Nico lowers Carrie onto the cot and I pile blankets over her, first my cut, then JC’s jacket, then the wool throw from the dresser. Her lips are pale, but color starts to creep back into her cheeks.
“Small sips,” JC says, passing me a bottle of water from the shelf. I hold it to her mouth. She takes a little, then a little more.
“Can you feel your toes?” I ask.
“Pins,” she murmurs. “Like they fell asleep.”
“That’s good,” JC says. “They’re waking up.”
Her gaze flicks to mine. “I’m sorry,” she says, as if any of this is her fault.
“No,” I tell her. “You do not apologize for needing help.”
Nico drags the space heater a foot closer and stands there, dripping, watching the heat move over her face. He reaches down and brushes a strand of wet hair away from her eye. It’s a small touch, gentle, more intimate than anything I should notice. I notice anyway.
JC glances at me like he hears the same thing moving in the room. He turns back to Carrie. “Stay with us. How are you feeling now?”
“Floaty,” she says. “Better.”
“Good. Keep talking.” He checks her fingers, rubs warmth into them, then into her forearms through the blanket.
I sit on the edge of the cot. My hand finds her calf under the blanket and I work heat into the cold muscle there. She exhales and her shoulders loosen. “Thank you,” she whispers. It lands low in my chest.
Nico peels off his wet shirt and wrings it into the sink, then tosses me a towel. I scrub water from my hair and hand it to JC. He dries her hands and tucks the blanket higher under her chin.
“Don’t sleep yet,” I say softly. “Give it a minute and then you can.”
Her eyes search my face. “You came,” she says again, barely a breath.
“Always,” I answer again before I can think better of it.
The heater hums and color creeps back into her cheeks. She shifts under the blankets and that’s when I realize she’s down tonothing but underwear. Heat slides through me before I can kill it. I look away and lace my fingers together to keep them still.
Her eyes find mine. “You’re staring.”
“Making sure you’re warm,” I say. It comes out rougher than I want.
She lifts a corner of the blanket, a small, wicked glint in her eyes. “I’m warmer now.”
