I hate that I caused all this. Hate that these people are out here because of me. But every time I glance at Alex, soaked through, focused entirely on me, something settles inside me.
I’m not a burden.
Not to him.
Not tonight, not here, not when it mattered.
Chapter 17
Alex
Windermere A&E is heaving,even at this hour. Crying toddlers. A man clutching his wrist. Someone coughing like it’s their new part-time job. The fluorescent lights hum overhead. It’s all a far cry from the silence on the ridge, but right now I’m grateful for the noise because it means she’s safe.
Emma sits beside me in the waiting area, wrapped in a thick hospital blanket that she’s pulled tightly around herself like armour. The poncho she arrived in is folded neatly on the chair next to her. She’d finally taken it off once the nurse handedover the blanket, cheeks pink with embarrassment, muttering something about not wanting to drip all over the floor. I didn’t care about the floor. I cared about the way her hands were still shaking.
Nick leans against the wall opposite us, streaked with mud, arms folded, looking oddly dependable for a man who earlier in the morning nearly got thrown into a cupboard.
Gerald checked her over himself once we got down, agreed she needed hospital assessment, and then disappeared to handle paperwork. Between the three of us insisting she get looked at properly, she never stood a chance. The only ground she managed to win was refusing an ambulance. The compromise was Nick driving Tommy’s BMW while I sat in the back holding her icy hand the whole way to Windermere.
Now she’s pink again, not from cold but from sheer mortification.
“I feel ridiculous,” she mutters, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “I’m taking up space other people need.”
“You nearly went hypothermic,” I remind her gently. “You’re exactly where you should be.”
She snuggles deeper into the blanket, still unconvinced. “I’m fine now.”
“You will be fine,” I correct softly. “Small difference. Important one.”
Emma shifts closer, just a fraction, enough that her shoulder brushes mine beneath the blanket. Then she tilts her face up and gives me the gentlest kiss. Soft. Grateful. Something that hits far deeper than the adrenaline still ebbing through my veins.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I swallow, because if I try to speak too quickly, I’ll embarrass myself. “You don’t need to thank me.”
But she’s already turning her head towards Nick. “And thank you. For the drive. And… everything.”
Nick lifts his brows as if he’s deeply offended by the lack of ceremony. “What, no kiss for me?”
I growl before I can stop myself. Proper, territorial noise from somewhere prehistoric.
Nick cackles immediately. “Relax, Hercules. I’m joking. If she tried to kiss me right now, I’d probably faint from shock.”
Emma laughs, a small, breathy sound that makes the entire miserable A&E waiting room feel less grim.
Before I can fire something back at Nick, his phone rings. He steps away, answering as he moves towards the corridor, already shifting back into problem-solving mode.
Emma leans against my shoulder again, the blanket rustling softly. I rest a hand over hers, keeping it warm, keeping her close, and trying not to think about how close I came to losing her in the mist.
And how impossible that thought already feels.
Nick returns a minute later, pocketing his phone. “That was Tommy. He needs his car back before the forecasted weather gets worse, so I’m dropping it in Fellside and head home.” He jerks his chin towards the entrance. “Phil’s on his way with your florist friend. Tommy thought Emma might want a familiar face.”
Emma gives him a tiny grateful smile. Nick responds with an awkward half-wave, then turns to go.
I slip out after him, catching him just outside the automatic doors. The evening air is damp and cool, the smell of rain settling over the car park. “Nick,” I call.
He stops immediately, shoulders tensing as if expecting another fight.
