“Assign someone to wet down the driest ones.” Shelby pointed to the vase in the sand. Wade watched with interest as she gave instructions. She and Martinez made a good team, but Shang held back, looking cranky.
What followed turned into a lot of tugging and splashing and falling and laughing. By the time they’d freed the last dolphin, the sun sat on the horizon. Almost as a group they started cheering and slapping each other’s backs.
“We did it!” Shelby leapt into Wade’s arms, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Yeah, we did,” he finally said, releasing his breath. He held her close to his pounding heart for a second, feeling like a whole man again for the first time since she’d left him four years ago. Her hand around his neck loosened, and she slid down until her feet touched the ground again. He kept his arms around her, and she rested her head against his chest. Shelby in his arms again.
“We did it,” she said again, looking up at him, her eyes shining.
“Shel,” he whispered, his heart thumping hard. She pressed closer to him, and he leaned in. Had she forgiven him? He moved to press his lips to her forehead but her head flopped against his chest. She seemed to grow heavier in his arms, like dead weight, and harder to hold. She was slipping down, her dress slipping up.
With sudden understanding, Wade eased her unconscious body onto the sand. “Martinez!” He dropped to his knees beside Shelby.
“What happened?” Martinez darted to his side in a flash.
“Low blood sugar. I need orange juice. There was some in her office.”
“Right on it.” Martinez jumped to her feet and ran to the nearby building.
When the others started to gather around them, Wade waved them off with a “Give her some space. She’ll be fine.” He shifted Shelby’s dress to make sure it covered the important stuff. She stirred, and he eased her head to rest on his thigh.
“Shelby, wake up.” He gave her shoulder a gentle shake.
***
Her name. That voice. Little tingles of happiness. Yeah. Happy. A happy dream for once.
Fatigue. So weak. Why—
“Shel?” the voice asked again.
Wade.
A happy dream of Wade? An anxious Wade?
She tried to lift her eyelids. Why did they weigh so much?
He spoke again, worry saturating the sound.
Wade was calling for her; she wanted to go to him so badly. If she was dreaming, did she want to wake? But what if he was really there?
He repeated her name.
She focused on her eyelids. One opened with a little pop, and then the other. Wade watched her in the dim light. Hewashere. His expression brightened, and a corner of his mouth quirked up in the lopsided smile she loved so much.
Why so much concern for her if he didn’t still care? She needed to touch him, to see if he were real. With every ounce of energy she could muster, she lifted her hand and almost got it to his face. Sapped of strength, her hand went limp.
He caught it and pressed it to his cheek.
“Wade.” Her words came out like she had cotton in her mouth. “What ... happened?”
“You fainted.” He brushed her palm with his lips. It sent those happy tingles along her nerves again. “When did you eat last?”
“I ... don’t remember.” The weights that seemed to sit on her eyelids grew heavy again, and the little strength she’d felt fled her.
“Shel,” Wade’s voiced called, as though from a great distance. “Shel, wake up. Martinez has some orange juice for you.”
“And a cheese stick, when she’s ready,” Ava said.
