“No,” he sighs. “My arm’s pinned. And the angle… I can’t even take a deep breath without almost blacking out.”
Fuckin’ A.
I take half a step closer and survey him again. From here, the beam pinning his arm looks massive. I’d bet anything he dislocated his shoulder. If he moves the wrong way or stays like that for too long, he could make it worse.
Fuck.
A sense of helplessness shrouds me as I press my back into the side of the house. “Sawyer, how long until you guys are back?”
“Noah says we’re still at least fifteen minutes out. The roads are slick, but he’s doing his best.”
That’s too long.
Too long to be lying alone in the dark. Too long to have to endure that level of pain.
“Merce,” I call down. “I’m going back inside to find a flashlight. I’ll be right back, then I’m coming down.”
He shouts an objection, but I’m already making a hasty retreat.
“I’m not hanging up, but I’m putting you in my pocket,” I tell Sawyer.
Before she can respond, I stash the device. Better she doesn’t have a chance to try to talk some sense into me.
I’ve always been reactive. Despite all the changes in my life recently, that remains the same. I’m driven by the urge to make this better for him in any way I can.
In the kitchen, I dig a flashlight out of the junk drawer I discovered the other day. When I get back to the foyer, I put on a winter coat, then I dip into the living room to grab two throw pillows off the couch.
Once I’m back outside, I assess the hole again, considering the best angle to approach.
The drop’s not that far down. Maybe a meter. And the wood closer to the house appears stable. There’s a good chance I can hang on to the windowsill and lower myself into the hole.
My still healing intercostal muscles seize up at the thought.
This is going to hurt.
“I’m throwing a few pillows down first,” I announce.
“Tytus, don’t you dare come any closer. It’s dark and cramped down here,” Mercer grits out. “My arm is already wrecked, and you won’t be able to help with your injuries.”
I shake my head. “I can’t lift you out by myself, but I might be able to get that beam off your arm,” I tell him. “Plus, if I’m down there, you won’t be alone.”
Crouching, I grit my teeth, grip on to the ledge of the window at my left, and lower down.
Chapter fifty-five
Mercer
“Is this everything you dreamed it would be?”
Tytus scoffs. “Keep your arm steady.” He shifts around my body, then gently cups the back of my head. “Lift.”
I do. It hurts, but when he places the second pillow beneath my head and changes the angle, relief washes over me.
With a little effort, he removed the support beam from my arm. From what I can tell, I fell directly on it, the impact of which caused the dislocation.
Once the first obstacle was out of the way, Tytus asked if I trusted him.
I said I did.
