by Zoe Chant
Don’t panic. Don’t even think. Next step.
Jackson took a deep breath and ducked under the water.
The light from the grotto barely penetrated beneath the surface. The ice glowed blue-white and beneath it—black.
Jackson had worked winters before. He’d volunteered with search and rescue teams during high school and kept it up on the job. He’d considered being a ranger, at one point, but you didn’t need to go deep into the wilderness to save people from the great outdoors. Knowing what the merciless outdoors could do to a person was the kick in the ass he needed if he ever found himself whining about convincing some drunk idiot to sleep it off indoors, or follow up a missing person report when his own bed was calling to him.
He’d never lost anyone in Pine Valley, but he’d pulled bodies from thawed rivers before and—
He cut the thought off and buried it.
The water’s not moving. This was a pond, not a river. If Olly had lost consciousness she wouldn’t have drifted far.
He searched the blackness. Nothing. Nothing, oh God, and all his training was telling him to surface and take another breath but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t leave her here if she was—
Something pulsed in his chest.
He moved without thinking. Strong strokes in water that was trying to sap the life from his limbs. He collided with Olly so fast they both overturned in the water, her feet kicking against his ribs, then his arms were around her and he was kicking up. Ice. Thick. He braced himself against the lakebed and thrust up with his elbow. Once. Twice.
Crack!
The ice gave. Jackson burst through it. Air burned his mouth, his lungs. It was the only sound in the universe. Olly’s body was heavy. Limp.
No no no—
Jackson wasn’t even sure the voice in his head was his. It didn’t sound like him. But he wasn’t hearing right anyway. He hauled Olly through the water and dragged her onto the shore, babbling out loud.
“Olly, don’t do this to me.” That was something from his training, wasn’t it. Talk to the person. Reassure them. The words mattered less than the tone of his voice. “Don’t you dare fucking die.” Okay, the tone of his voice probably wasn’t going to help.
He grabbed her, held onto her. Her head fell onto his shoulder. Cold. Everything was cold. Was she breathing? He had to start rescue breathing if not. Desperately he listened for a hint of air through her parted lips.
And then Olly choked. Gasped. Breathed, her eyes flickering open, wide, searching for his, her gulping breaths the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.
“You’re all right,” he said, “you’re fine, I’ve got you,” stupid words, but tone was what was important, a reassuring tone, “God, Olly, I thought—”
He gulped.
I love you.
He could say it. If tone was what was important, not words. But those words were unforgiveable even if she couldn’t hear them.
“Let’s get you somewhere warm,” he muttered. “Back to the Puppy Express.”
She was shaking, too out of it to respond. Her face was icy white. Jackson licked his lips, which were suddenly numb.
It was too far. She needed warmth and shelter right now. Not when they got back.
But there were ski cottages and warmup cabins scattered throughout the valley. The nearest was close enough that Bob spent half his time at the bar complaining about it ruining the ambience of the Sweethearts trail. He could take her there.
“It’ll be all right,” he said, bundling her onto the snowmobile and starting the engine. “I’ll look after you.”
Idiot words. Nonsense.
The cottage was empty. Windows dark, snow around it untouched. Jackson drove right to the door and brushed snow away from the step.
Bless Pine Valley, he thought as he found a key attached to a magnet shaped like a dragon. And bless Jasper Heartwell. When he’d first moved here he’d thought the locals were insane, leaving keys out where anyone could find them. But locked doors were as good as a death sentence out in the mountains. Leaving a key out was being a good neighbor who wanted their neighbors to stay alive.
He barged through the door with Olly limp in his arms.
It was cool inside. Not the frigid, lifeless cold of the air outside, but close. No one had been around yet that winter to turn the heating on.
But the power was still on. Bless Jasper Heartwell, again. He cranked the thermostat and carried Olly through to the bathroom.
Undressing her was the least sexy thing he’d ever done. He pulled her boots off. Her socks were soaked through, as was her sweater when he peeled her jacket off. She was wet all the way through to her woolen underlayer.
“But you’re still shivering,” he told her, running a towel briskly over her limbs. One of her hands was clenched white-knuckled around something. “And holding onto this, this…” He frowned. She was holding a ring box. Her fingers were clenched so tightly he couldn’t open them.
She jumped in for that?
He shook himself. “Shivering. Grip. Two good signs. But you’re not talking, and that’s—that’s—”
His mind went white.
“Bed,” he said, jolting himself into action. “Warm you up.”
There were emergency supplies back at the Puppy Express. Heat packs. A phone. Other shifters, who could call the doctor even without a phone. All the things Olly needed to keep her safe, to make sure she didn’t—
Bed. The bedroom was upstairs. He took them three at a time, Olly too quiet and too cold in his arms.
There was an electric blanket on the bed, just as he’d hoped. He turned it on high and slid Olly between the sheets, bundling them around her. It wasn’t enough.
He pulled his clothes off, noticing for the first time that he was shivering, too.
“Olly, can you hear me?” He slid in beside her. His body didn’t feel like it was his own. He buffed her hands between his to warm them and tucked them into her armpits, then wrapped his arms around her. “Olly, please. Say something.”
She stirred. “Jackson…”
14
Olly
It was like a dream. Water sloshed around outside her boots and waterproof snow pants, and nothing else. Like an echo of sensation. Then an icy finger slid down one side of her boots. And another.
Something was wrong. She couldn’t still be in the water. Could she? That was the last thing she remembered, true, but…
There was a distant sound, like wind whistling across a chimney-top. Breath. Her own? Yes. She was breathing.
That wouldn’t be happening if she was still in the water.
But she felt… odd. The sound of rasping breath was hers, she was almost sure, but it was strangely distant. Was she in her owl’s form? That would explain… something.
Her head spun, if it was her head. She felt as though she was clawing through darkness, but without claws or hands. Or eyes to see the darkness. Or her owl’s eyes to see the darkness through. But if she didn’t have those, then…
She wasn’t sure she had a head to shake to try to clear it but when she did, her mind exploded in a kaleidoscope of nauseating lights. She stopped and waited for things to start making sense. They didn’t.
Where are we? Olly asked her owl.
There was no reply.
Olly went completely still. Owl?
A skitter of claws in the shadows. The tension in Olly’s lungs eased. So she had lungs, too. There you are. What’s happening? Why do I feel so strange? Are you—
Why are you asking me? Her owl’s voice was thin and ashamed. Olly frowned.
What do you mean?
You shouldn’t ask me anything. I almost got us killed. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.
Her owl’s voice grew fainter. Distant. Olly chased after it. Owl, what are you—
“Olly, wake up! Olly, can you hear me?”
Olly fell back into her body with a thud. “Jackson?” she tried to say, but the word didn’t make it the wh
ole way out. Her teeth clacked together.
“You’re awake. Thank God. I thought—”
He broke off and Olly forced her eyes open. For a moment, they wouldn’t focus. Panic rippled through her.
She had no idea where she was or what was happening.
“Where—” she began. A shiver shook through her body, so intense she couldn’t speak through it. And she still didn’t know where she was or who was there and—
“Hey. I’ve got you.” Strong arms wrapped around her. Jackson. Oh, God, Jackson. Another shiver ripped through her. “You’re safe. We’re in one of the cottages along the edge of Rock River. It’s just you and me.”
Relief rushed through her and something else, too; something bright and dangerous like the sun breaking through the clouds. Olly blinked hard until her eyes started to focus and as soon as they did it was as though the whole world snapped into shape around her.
She’d felt Jackson’s arms around her. Now she felt every individual hair on them. On his bare arms. His bare arms around her …
Her eyes widened. “Why am I naked?” she hissed.
Jackson’s cheeks reddened. “Your clothes were soaked,” he said gruffly. Olly shivered at the gravel in his voice. “You were freezing. We both were. I…” He pulled away, briefly, then wrapped her up in his arms again, ducking his head and murmuring something about body heat.
“We were in the water.” The pieces were all there in her head, Olly just had to put them together. Easy. Or it would have been if Jackson wasn’t right there, warm and solid and too… too good to be true. “You—you followed me in? After…”
Her stomach lurched. She’d jumped in the water. Her owl had jumped in the water, with her body. It had screeched something about being in love, and making things right, and jumped into the lake after that stupid engagement ring.
“Did I at least manage to get the ring?”
“Yeah, you did.” Jackson managed a weak laugh. “And you jumped into the lake to get some stranger’s engagement ring. Why?”
“My owl jumped in,” Olly said automatically. “I mean—it jumped in, but in my body, because it can’t fly underwater, and it was useful having… fingers…”
“At first I thought—” He caught himself, his mouth twisting. Olly stayed perfectly still. He was obviously trying to keep his thoughts out of his words and off his face—but he didn’t hide the way his arms tightened protectively around her. “I don’t know what I thought.”
Her chest suddenly felt very stiff and tight. “I jumped in to get the ring. My owl thought it was important. Because—because…”
Oh.
Was that why her owl had jumped in the lake?
She felt as though she’d been standing staring at a cliff at the end of the world, and had only just remembered she could fly.
You idiot, she thought, fondly. She didn’t know whether she was talking to herself or her owl. Both, probably.
Jackson’s voice was a worried, wondrous rumble against her chest.
“You’re warmer now, you’re awake, you’re going to be all right. Power’s on, so we’ve got heat, we just…” Jackson looked away and cursed. “I’m doing this all wrong. Words aren’t going to help, are they? Even if you had a reason for… what you did… I have to do things your way. ”
She didn’t understand what he meant until he unwrapped himself from around her.
Jackson slipped out of bed and stood on the floor in the middle of the room. He took a deep breath. It shook, slightly, and Olly’s eyes swung to him like they were on magnets.
“I should have known better than to chase you down. Just one more mistake in—” He winced and didn’t meet her eye. “I know you need to scope things out before you let them into your life. And I’m not saying I get to be back in your life, but…”
His voice trailed off. He shrugged helplessly.
“I’m not going to force you to tell me what’s happening with you, Olly. But I know the only way you’re going to let me in is if you know what you’re getting yourself into. So here we are. Look as long as you like, ask me any question… I’m all yours.”
Olly sat up, eyes wide. She drew the blankets around her like she was huddling beneath her wings.
Jackson stood still at the end of the bed. Bare-armed, bare-chested, bare… everything. Almost.
She knew Jackson. Or she had, last year. And he knew her and she knew what he was doing, right now.
Not pushing. Not cornering her. Letting her find her own weird, fucked-up way back to trusting him.
He didn’t know that it wasn’t him she needed to figure out how to trust.
Jackson didn’t meet her eyes. He stood there like a man on the gallows. Like she had any right to judge him.
Olly swallowed. Normally her owl would already be judging him, of course, but it was still strangely silent.
It was just… her. Just her and him.
She slipped her feet to the floor and padded over to him, still wrapped in one of the comforters. It was like carrying around her own safe, snug tree knot to hide in.
She didn’t have any right to judge him. But he was right. She hadn’t let herself see him, not really, and forget her owl, she wanted that. So she walked around him. Slowly, her eyes devouring every detail.
He’d put on muscle. He carried himself differently—heavier. Like there was a weight on his shoulders.
She frowned as she crept behind him. She had a pretty good idea what that weight might be, and it made anger flicker inside her.
She was still frowning when she made her way back in front of him. This was easier, feeling his eyes on her. And harder, because even though knowing he was watching her meant she remembered to keep her expression still, she didn’t know how long she could keep up the act.
Maybe it was a good thing he’d been gone so long, after all, or maybe it would have been easier if he’d stayed in Pine Valley and she’d had day after day of looking at him and trying to make her heart make sense.
She would never know.
She didn’t look into his face. Not yet. She looked at his hands first. She picked up one, then the other, turning them over and exploring the familiar calluses. The tiny scar on his thumb, the rough skin on his knuckles because God forbid he use hand cream like a normal person. His wrists and forearms. His upper arms, the sweep of bone and muscle at his shoulders. She stood close, letting her breath whisper across his skin. He shivered.
She looked up at his face.
He’d grown his hair out. She’d noticed that already, but now she saw why.
He grabbed her hand as she reached to brush his hair aside and look closer. “Don’t—”
“You said I could look.”
He grimaced. “I did.”
She pushed his hair aside gently. A pink new scar ran across his forehead, from above his left eyebrow to the hairline at his temple. “What happened?”
“A work thing.”
She waited, because if he was still the Jackson she knew, he’d fill in the details for her.
“I got shot.”
“What?” She grabbed him, as though she could reach back in time and drag him away from whatever idiot situation he’d gotten himself into to get himself— “Shot? Who shot you? Why? When?”
“I—”
“Tell me!”
“Wait, wait.” He was still holding her hand. It felt very good. “I’ll tell you, but let’s do it in bed okay? We’re both still chilled. No need to get hypothermic again while standing around and talking in a cold bedroom.”
He had a point. She let him pull her to the bed, and as he did, she became aware of something that had been going on for some time; she had just been too distracted to notice. Normally her owl would have alerted her, but her owl was apparently not speaking to her right now.
*Olly! Olly!*
*Flea?* she thought back at him.
*Oh, thank goodness. You’re okay! You didn’t come back! I was just about to go out looking.*
&nb
sp; The idea of Flea showing up at the cabin and finding them both naked in bed made a bubble of laughter rise up in her. *Don’t worry. We both got soaked, so we decided to hole up in one of the shelter cabins rather than try to make it back on the snowmobile. We’re going to dry out here and then head home.*
“Olly?” Jackson said. She held up a hand.
*Oh good. I’ll tell the others,* Flea said, his mental voice growing distant.
*Thanks.*
She looked up at Jackson, wrapped up in the blankets with his skin pressed against hers. “Flea,” she explained.
“Oh, right. The, uh…” He touched his forehead. “Telepathy thing. Better than telephones, I bet. Did you tell him, um…” He hesitated.
She felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “I told him we decided to dry out at the cabin before heading back. I think that’s all he needs to know.”
“Fair enough.”
Beneath the blankets, her skin was warming against his. This close up, she could see the scar clearly. It was so obvious now that she noticed it. “I think you were about to tell me what happened to you.”
“Yeah.” He put his hands over hers, under the covers. “So, I guess where it starts… well, I never really had much training for the deputy job here. I just kind of fell into it. Mostly because nobody else wanted to come this far into the mountains, least of all the actual sheriff. I was basically a glorified shifter babysitter.”
“That suited us.”
“It suited me, too.” He brushed his fingers over hers. “But I guess I’m meant for it, because I fell into it again as soon as I left. At a bigger sheriff’s office, this time. With an actual budget. More colleagues. And bigger problems.” He let out a heavy breath. “There was this griffin shifter, Hardwick—we ended up working together a lot. Everyone knew we worked well together. But they didn’t know he was a shifter, of course. It was nice for him, being around someone he could share his secret with. We became friends.”
He paused and took a steadying breath, and Olly waited. This, at least, she was good at: the patience of an owl, absorbing all the information, trying to understand.