by Tawna Fenske
“What?” she asked, and Jason realized he was staring.
“You’re beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She grinned. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“And last night was fun.”
“Amazing,” she agreed, her grin turning more salacious. “Gotta love your sense of adventure.”
Love.
The second the word left her lips, he knew. He felt it deep in his chest like a white-hot ball of energy.
He was in love with Miriam Ashley.
Holy shit.
They walked in silence for a moment while Jason grappled with the realization. How the hell had this happened? He loved being around her, obviously. She was funny and beautiful and smart and kind and all the things he would have looked for in a partner if he’d been looking at all.
He hadn’t. Not one tiny bit. But love had gone and found him anyway, sneaking around his defenses like some sort of cupid ninja. He should feel annoyed, but instead he just felt happy. Giddy, really.
“I think we should date each other,” he blurted.
Miriam stumbled, apparently caught off guard. Jason held on to her hand, not letting her fall.
“Wow,” she said, clearly as stunned by his words as he’d been by the feelings. “We’re sleeping together,” she said slowly, glancing up at him. “We’re holding hands on a hike. Is that the sort of thing you mean by ‘dating’?”
“Kind of,” he said, not entirely sure what he meant. He just knew that he wanted to be with her. A lot. “I guess I mean dating seriously. Exclusively. Like in a real relationship.”
She was quiet a moment, and Jason realized he was holding his breath. A little tricky, considering they’d reached a steep incline on the trail. He ordered himself to breathe again, but the tension stayed in his shoulders. What if she wasn’t interested? What if he’d read her wrong? What if—
“Okay.” She turned her face up to grin at him. “Okay, let’s give it a shot.”
“Really?” His heart flooded his chest with something warm and liquid. “Wow, that was easier than I thought.”
She snorted. “It’s hardly easy. God knows I’m nervous about getting involved with a guy who likes to throw himself off mountains—”
“I hardly ever throw myself off mountains.”
“—and go barreling through white-water rapids—”
“I prefer a raft to a barrel.”
“—and cycling down a mountainside with no brakes—”
“Brakes are overrated.” He squeezed her hand and grinned. “It’s a trade-off. You get a little anxiety from my daredevil habits, and I get the knowledge that you’ll always be judging my choice of neckties and utensils.”
She laughed and returned the hand squeeze. “Okay,” she said, sounding a little breathless. It might have been the exertion of the trail, but he didn’t think so. “A relationship. We’re really doing this.” She sounded both bewildered and excited, and the combination left him feeling a little dizzy.
“So you’re my girlfriend.”
She gave a rather unladylike snort, which only made him love her more. “Can we not use that word? It sounds so—middle school.”
“What do you want to be called? My lady friend? Concubine? Schmoopie?”
“How about just Miriam? ‘I’m in a committed relationship with Miriam.’”
“I’m in a committed relationship with Miriam,” he said, liking the way that sounded. “Nice.”
“And I’m in a committed relationship with Jason.” She laughed. “God, that sounds cheesy.”
“But nice.”
“Yes. Very nice.”
They fell silent again, fingers intertwined, their footsteps muffled on the sodden trail coated with a thin blanket of pine needles. The scent of damp moss and wet earth filled his lungs to bursting. Or maybe that was his heart in his chest, all warm and solid and throbby while the birds chirped around them and a creek burbled in the distance.
God, it was like a fucking Disney movie.
The hair prickled on the back of his neck. For a second he thought it was the novelty of finding himself in a happy, committed relationship when just a few weeks ago, he’d sworn it was the last thing on earth he was looking for.
Then he thought they were being watched, maybe by an owl or a raccoon or a bobcat.
But the instant he realized what it was, he froze in his tracks.
He dropped Miriam’s hand, his ears straining for the sounds of small footsteps or a warbled Lady Gaga melody. For any sign of his nephew.
Nothing.
He took off running, heart slamming hard into his throat. “Henry!” he shouted as he tore down the trail. “Henry!”
Chapter Thirteen
Miriam could hear Jason’s voice echoing through the trees, a haunting, hollow sound that made goose bumps prickle on her arms.
“Henry!” he shouted, and Miriam shivered.
Jason was out of sight already, his boots pounding a dull thud on the trail up ahead. His voice was thick with terror as he called his nephew’s name again.
“Henry!”
She felt her heart thudding thick in her chest, but ordered herself to stay calm. To use her brain, since clearly her wilderness skills and physical prowess weren’t her best assets out here.
She kept moving, albeit more slowly. He couldn’t have gone too far, could he?
“Henry,” she called, softly at first. She swallowed hard and tried again, fighting to keep her voice cheerful and upbeat. “Henry!”
Nothing. Just the echo of Jason’s voice in the distance, sounding increasingly frantic. Her footsteps were muffled on the damp trail, and she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Her gaze swept the edges of the path, surveying the scenery. The brush was thick here, with dense clusters of pine boughs and large boulders that looked like prehistoric shapes. The smell of damp earth had seemed exotic a few moments ago, but now it just seemed menacing.
“Henry!” she called again, still struggling to keep her voice gentle. “Where are you, buddy?”
Jason’s voice rang out through the trees, sounding distant and desperate. Miriam kept walking, commanding herself to stay calm. Jason had said there were no drop-offs or confusing spots in the trail. Could Henry have backtracked somehow? No, they would have seen him.
She swallowed again, fighting back the panic that threatened to bubble up her throat. Taking a shaky breath, she hummed a few bars of the Lady Gaga song Henry had been singing when she’d seen him last. Putting one boot in front of the other, she continued along the trail, ordering herself not to dwell on the fact that she was completely alone in the wilderness.
That was the least of her concerns right now.
Her gaze swept the trail, studying the shapes of the boulders along the fringes. There was one that looked like an overturned Volkswagen and another that looked like a giant beach ball and one off in the distance that looked like a brontosaurus.
Brontosaurus…
Miriam froze. She stopped humming and stared at it a moment. Then she stepped off the trail, watching the rock like she expected a little boy to materialize beside it at any moment.
“Henry,” she called, still as upbeat as she could muster. Jason’s voice was growing more faint in the distance, but she could still hear the frantic echoes as he called his nephew’s name again and again.
Something pulled Miriam toward that boulder. She took another step toward it, then another and another, heading deeper into the woods.
“Henry,” she tried again, arms prickling with a sensation she couldn’t identify.
The trees were thick here, and she wove through them, skirting a tall shaggy one, then turning sideways to maneuver around a tree trunk as wide as a wine barrel. She kept walking, not taking her eyes off the boulder.
“Henry,” she called.
A branch cracked, though it might have been under her own foot. She kept going, pulse thudding in her ears, Jason’s voice growing more distant.
&nb
sp; She was almost to the boulder now, and the prickling sensation on her arms was more intense. She’d heard girlfriends mention “a mother’s instinct,” and not having kids of her own, she’d always laughed it off as woo-woo mumbo-jumbo.
But she wasn’t laughing now, and she couldn’t ignore the fact that the phrase was bouncing around in her head like a Super Ball.
“Henry,” she called again, almost to the boulder.
A thick scruff of trees surrounded it, and she could see that the towering rock face was actually several boulders grouped together with a small opening near the base.
An opening the size of a five-year-old boy…
“Henry.” Her voice sounded louder now. Less shaky.
She crouched down and pushed aside a cluster of brush at the mouth of the hollowed-out space between the rocks. She didn’t see the broken branch until it speared her wrist, sending a knife of pain up her arm. She winced and yanked the injured arm to her side, but didn’t stop.
“Henry,” she called. “If you’re in there, you’re not in trouble. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Something squeaked. It might have been a mouse or a chipmunk or some other creepy woodland rodent. The sound should have sent her scurrying back to the trail like the city girl she was, but Miriam kept going. Something told her it wasn’t a mouse.
“Henry?”
She shoved aside another branch, and a flash of bright blue caught her eye. The same shade as Henry’s windbreaker. The sniffle confirmed it. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the narrow crevice, she spotted him hunkered there against the rock.
“Hey, buddy,” she called, relief flooding her nervous system as she squinted at his little body. His glasses were askew, but his eyes were wide and blinking, which seemed like a good sign. He didn’t look hurt, but what the hell did she know about kids? Not much, but at least she’d found him. That counted for something.
She kept her voice soft and even, knowing she needed to coax him out. “Good to see you in there. You want to come out?”
He didn’t say anything, but she thought she saw him shake his head. Scared, she thought, knowing the feeling.
But he was a kid. It was up to her to help him.
“This is a cool rock you found,” she said as she seated herself on the ground like it was the most natural thing in the world. The damp earth seeped through the seat of her jeans, but she ignored it, her eyes fixed on Henry. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them like she was settling in for a tea party, not a care in the world. She could feel her hands shaking and her wrist throbbing, but she commanded herself to stay calm.
From what she could tell, Henry looked okay. “I like how the rock looks like a dinosaur,” she said softly, pretending to study it. “Did you notice that?”
Again, the motion inside the crevice. A nod, maybe?
“I can never remember my dinosaurs,” she continued, amazed at how breezy she sounded. Her voice wasn’t even quivering. “Is it a pterodactyl?”
Silence. Then a soft voice. “No.”
“A T. rex?”
Another pause. “No.”
“What kind of dinosaur is it?”
She saw him shift a little between the rocks. “I think it looks like a brontosaurus.”
“You think so?” She pretended to consider it a moment, tilting her head back to look up at the boulder. “I’m not sure. I don’t really see it.”
“It is! It’s a brontosaurus.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she said, her voice casual. “Maybe not. I can’t really tell. Why don’t you come out here and show me?”
There was another pause. Then he was crawling out of the hole. His blond hair was caked with moss and dirt, but the rest of him looked okay. Nothing broken, no scrapes or bruises that she could see. There was a small rip in the shoulder of his jacket, but he wasn’t babying the arm or bleeding or anything scary like that. She needed to yell for Jason, but didn’t want to startle Henry. Not until she knew for sure he was safe.
“What did you do to your arm?” he asked as he pointed to her wrist.
Miriam looked down to see the wound was a lot bigger than she’d realized. A big, angry gash dripping blood into the earth around her. She felt woozy, but pulled her sleeve down and forced herself to smile.
“It’s nothing, sweetie. Just a scrape. How are you doing?”
“Okay.” He looked up at her, his blue eyes wide and fearful. “I wasn’t supposed to go off the trail.”
“No,” she agreed, still scanning him for injury. “No, you weren’t. But I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Uncle Jason’s gonna be mad.”
“He might be. But he’s going to be really, really happy you’re okay.”
Henry looked uncertain, and Miriam used the opportunity to lower her knees and shift into a cross-legged position. Seeing his opening, Henry scrambled into her lap and snuggled close. She wrapped her arms around him, flooded with little-boy warmth and a rush of gratitude that he was okay. She breathed him in, wondering what it would be like to have a kid of her own.
“I need to tell your uncle you’re okay,” she said as she let go of him with one hand to slip her phone out of her pocket. She could still hear Jason’s voice in the distance, calling Henry’s name, but it sounded far off. Maybe farther than her voice could carry if she tried to shout back. Her phone showed two bars, so at least she had a signal. Hopefully, so did he.
“Let me just send him a quick message to let him know you’re all right.”
Henry nodded against her chest and sniffled a little. “He’s gonna yell.”
“Maybe. But yelling never killed anyone.”
She typed out the message with one hand, ignoring the throbbing in her wrist as she kept her arm wrapped tight around Henry.
Henry safe. We’re just off the trail where you saw me last.
She stuffed her phone back in her pocket, then wrapped both arms around the little boy. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she assured him, rocking a little to distract herself from the ache in her wrist. “Your Uncle Jason loves you very much, and he’s going to be so happy you’re okay.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. Now tell me about the dinosaur.”
She wasn’t sure how long they sat there like that, with Henry’s warm body snuggled in her lap. He prattled on about dinosaurs, explaining the difference between a brontosaurus and a stegosaurus and some other saurus she’d never heard of. She wasn’t really listening to the words. Just the sound of fear draining from his voice and being replaced by something else. Security. Comfort. A sense of being loved and cherished and safe.
She felt it, too.
Footsteps back on the trail halted Henry’s lecture on dinosaurs, and they both turned to look. She spotted Jason first, the red of his jacket flashing through the trees as his boots pounded on the path.
“Over here,” she called, lifting one hand to wave. Pain knifed through her wrist, but she ignored it and kept waving. “Jason! Right here! I’ve got him, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
He charged through the trees like a wild animal, the panic evident in his eyes even from a distance. When he reached them, he was breathless and filthy and more pale than she’d ever seen him.
The look on his face sent a shiver down Miriam’s spine.
Everything’s not fine. She tightened her hold on Henry. And it’s about to get a lot worse.
…
It’s all your fault.
Those were the words that kept pulsing through Jason’s brain as he watched the doctor stitch up Miriam’s wrist. Her flesh was pale and her brow was creased in pain and it was all Jason’s goddamn fault.
She looked up at him and smiled, and his heart nearly split in two. He tightened his hold on Henry, who’d been dozing in his lap since they got to the urgent care clinic. Leave it to a five-year-old to nap through a crisis.
“There you go,” the good doc said as he let go of Miriam’s
wrist. “Just three stitches. Not too bad. Don’t go having any more battles with busted tree limbs, you hear?”
Her face was still white, but she gave a shaky smile and a firm nod. “I’ll try to resist the urge.” She glanced at Henry, who stirred in Jason’s lap.
The boy’s blue eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Miriam and smiled. “Usually I get ice cream after I go to the doctor,” he said, yawning a little as he burrowed against Jason’s chest. “You should ask for ice cream. Or a lollipop.”
“I will.” She gave Henry an encouraging smile. “Sounds like we’ve both been really lucky we have people around who take good care of us.”
She shot an appreciative look at the doctor, who picked up a clipboard and strode out of the room with a quick assurance that he’d be right back.
Jason just sat there feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet. He sure as hell hadn’t done anything to take care of her or Henry, or anyone else for that matter. He’d been selfish. He’d been so caught up in wooing Miriam that he’d lost his own damn nephew.
Henry closed his eyes again and snuggled closer, and Jason fought another wave of self-loathing for having him here in the first place. The poor kid had sat through the trauma of watching Miriam’s stitches—which, of course, was in addition to all the other trauma of the day. But Ellie had insisted on the phone that letting Henry stay while Miriam got fixed up was a good thing.
“He needs to see doctors helping people,” Ellie had assured him. “It’s good for him to know the grown-ups he cares about can get hurt and still be okay and be brave while someone’s taking care of them.”
Miriam was certainly brave. She also deserved a helluva lot more than Jason could give her. So did Henry, for that matter. The little boy felt heavy in his lap, and the burden of caring for him weighed heavier on Jason’s chest.
It’s all your fault.
Ellie had insisted otherwise on the phone, but Jason knew it was true. “That’s his new thing lately, running off,” she’d reminded him. “The doctor said it’s part of his quest for independence. Everything’s okay, Jase. It’s not your fault.”