“Awful.” The word slips out before I realize its effect, and Austin stiffens.
“Tell me exactly what hurts and how bad, Mik.” The command in his tone is unmistakable, and his arms tighten around me ever so slightly, as if he can keep me safe by holding me close.
“Austin—“
He shifts me onto my back, no longer holding me, and the sense of loss makes the pain in my hands and feet seem like nothing at all.
“What. Hurts?”
I can see it now. How he’d be a natural leader. How soldiers—airmen?—wouldn’t dare disobey one of his orders. “My fingers and toes.“
Carefully, keeping the sleeping bag pulled up almost to my neck, he eases my left hand from under the covers. “The pruning’s gone. Flex your fingers for me?”
I do as he asks, even though my thoughts have finally cleared enough to understand what’s going on. “I’m okay, Austin. This is normal—I think—after being so cold for so long. They’re just tingling. Badly.”
He sits up, the sight of his bare chest sending a flush creeping up my neck. He’s built. I knew, of course. I’d caught a glimpse—crap, was that only last night?—when he’d answered the door with his shirt unbuttoned. And when he’d held me, those muscles were so strong and reassuring. But the reality of him is so muchmorethan I’d dreamed of. And I absolutely did dream about him.
He notices me staring, even as he’s rubbing my left hand between both of his to help warm me up, and he suddenly stops and grabs one of the thin, shiny blankets to cover himself. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I needed to get you warm, and my clothes were almost as soaked as yours—“
“Don’t apologize.” I want to touch him, to trace those defined ridges, to ask him about the dozens of scars strewn haphazardly over his tanned skin.
“Mik…” His voice cracks, and he shakes his head. “I didn’t look. Didn’t see anything. I promise you…” Clutching the blanket so tightly his knuckles turn white, he looks away. “Turn around and I’ll see if my clothes are dry enough. At least my shirt.”
“Stop.” I’m so tired. So scared. But not of him. Not of…seeing him. “You undressed me without looking?”
“Yes.” He says it like he doesn’t understand why I’m in awe of him in this moment. “Nothing happens to you—or in front of you—that you don’t consent to, sweetheart. Nothing. Not while I’m here.”
Heistoo good to be true. Except he’s right in front of me, flesh and blood, muscles and heat, scars and sexy, deep voice. I wriggle enough to get my other arm out from under the sleeping bag, and though the air around us makes my skin prickle, and the sudden loss of warmth sends a brief flash of panic creeping up my spine, I need to be closer to him.
Wrapping my arms around Austin, I savor his warmth and the way he folds me into an embrace with his whole body. “Don’t let go,” I whisper, my lips close to his ear. “Please.”
Austin eases me down with him, and I snuggle against his side as he rubs my back. “You’re safe, Mik. I won’t leave you.”
My eyes burn, and the stress of everything threatens to drown me. “Everything’s fuzzy. We couldn’t get to the river?”
“We couldn’t cross it. The bridge was half gone, and you were too cold—I couldn’t risk it. At least here, we’re warm and mostly dry.”
Warm. Warm is good. Austin is safe. I’m safe.
Focus, Mik.
I blink hard as his handsome face goes soft and hazy for a moment. “What if we can’t cross the river in the morning either?”
“By morning, I suspect your graduate students will have convinced someone to send out a search party. The loner—Corey?—he was insistent about calling the police. Hell, I’m pretty sure he called 911 before I even left the hotel.”
“Corey...” My voice trembles, and I burrow deeper under the blankets.
“What’s wrong?” Tension stiffens Austin’s body, and he tries to get me to look at him, but I can’t. “Mikayla?”
“I…um…I’ve known him the longest. Sponsored him for the fellowship. He…he came from an unstable home environment.” I’m not lying. But I’m not telling Austin the truth either, and I can’t let him see it. Corey betrayed my trust, but he also tried to save me. I won’t just give him up without talking to him first. I can’t. Even though IknowI shouldn’t keep this from Austin.
Silence stretches between us, filled with unanswered questions and need so strong, so desperate, it’s drawing us together like magnets. I’m exhausted, but also panicked, on edge, and terrified. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep, despite how tired I am.
Trailing my fingers over his chest, over the myriad of thin scars, I ask, “What happened here?”
“Not a story you want to hear.” The caring, concerned tone his voice carried just a few minutes ago is gone, shuttered at my single question. But we’re trapped here until the storm passes—or at least until it’s light again, and I’m not letting him get away with this a second time.
“You’re wrong.” I tip my head up to meet his gaze, and though the room spins a little, it steadies quickly enough. “I want to know you, Austin. This…this was supposed to be our tomorrow. Our second date. The one where you said I could ask about that ugly story. About your shoulder injury. About these scars. About…a lot of things.”
