As my eyes scan the crowd, my hope shrinks to nothing. It’s just another rescue worker calling out to someone, his voice swallowed by the chaos.
“Bree,” Juliette says softly, her hand resting lightly on my arm. “Maybe we should?—”
“No,” I cut her off, my voice rough and raw. I don’t even recognize it as my own. “I’m not leaving. I can’t.”
I don’t know what I’d be running to, or what I’d be running from, but I know this much… I’m not leaving.
She nods. “Then I’ll stay with you.”
I should be out there. I should be running through the mud, calling his name, doingsomething. But they have professionals. They have teams. They know what they’re doing. They have the tools, the training, the experience. All I have is this overwhelming sense of helplessness.
If I found him, what would I even do? What if I find him hurt? Broken? What if… What if I find himgone?
I wouldn’t survive it. I don’t know how to keep living in a world where he’s not in it. He’severything.
I can’t think about that. I can’t.
Except the thought keeps creeping in no matter how hard I try to push it away. It hovers at the edges of my mind, threatening to consume me.
Still, I stand here wishing I could do more while times stretches on, cruel and endless. The ache in my chest grows with every passing second, deepening the wound, making it harder to breathe. Every second is a reminder of how much I can’t control and how small I feel.
All I can do is wait.
thirty-six
BREE
Time stopped meaning anything the moment I got here. The world outside this riverbank doesn’t exist.
The tent flaps rustle with every gust of wind, brittle canvas snapping like it’s as strung out as I am. The river murmurs just beyond, its current a cruel contrast to the havoc inside me. Search crews come and go. Flashlights glow in the distance. Somewhere out there, they’re still looking for him.
I think I’ve been awake for nearly forty-eight hours. Maybe more. Maybe less. Does it even matter? Sleep is something that exists for people who aren’t running on fumes and sheer desperation. My body begs for rest, every muscle aching, every nerve frayed, but my brain won’t allow it. It keeps me upright, keeps me pacing, keeps me stuck in this awful in-between where the only thing keeping me conscious is the terror that if I close my eyes, even for a second, I’ll wake up to the worst.
It’s sometime in the middle of the night, that much I’m sure of. Everything else is a blur. The rain has stopped, but the weight in the air hasn’t lifted. If anything, it’s heavier now, and the world has gone eerily still. No cars. No voices. Not even thewhisper of wind through the trees. It’s like everything is holding its breath. Just like me.
The only sound left is the insistent pounding of my heart in my ears. Proof that I’m still here, still standing. But even that feels uncertain, like it could stop at any moment.
I can feel myself slipping, my grip on reality unraveling thread by thread.
The eerie silence is claimed by the static crackle of a rescuer’s nearby radio. My head snaps towardthe sound, my pulse surging, breath locking in my throat. For a second, everything is suspended.
Then through the noise, a voice breaks through.
“We’ve got him. We found him.”
The radio crackles again, and the voice delivers the only words that matter.
“He’s alive. He’s hurt, but he’s alive.”
A choked sound rips from my throat, somewhere between a sob and a gasp. My knees threaten to buckle, and my vision swims.
He’s alive.
Alive.
The one word washes away the terror that’s been clinging to me. My vision blurs, the world tilting sideways as relief crashes over me in waves so powerful I can barely stay standing. I press my hand to my mouth, trying to contain the sob threatening to break free.
I want to laugh. I want to cry. This nightmare is about to end.
