Wild

by Jill Sorenson

  “Sure,” he said, shrugging.

  “I’m Josh.”

  “Daniel.”

  “Good to meet you, Daniel. I just want to know what happened to my sister.”

  Mateo told Daniel that he’d been on a bus with his soccer team, crossing over the Coronado Bridge. The earthquake struck, and some of the vehicles plummeted into the bay. One of them was a red car. His sister’s. Mateo said he knew she had a chance to survive the fall because the bridge was only half-collapsed at this point. They were about fifty feet above the surface. He made a wave motion with his hand, indicating that the water below was choppy. He watched her car sink.

  “My God,” Helena murmured, leaning in to listen.

  Mateo went on to say that he swam after Chloe, but he couldn’t find her.

  Josh interrupted him. “Wait. How did you get in the water?”

  “I jump,” Mateo said.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding. Mateo said that his teammates had discouraged him from climbing out of the bus. But he did it anyway, and he jumped off the side of the bridge. Seconds later, that section of the bridge fell into the bay, taking the bus with it. As far as he knew, none of the men on board had survived.

  “Wow,” Josh said.

  Mateo fell silent for a moment, saddened by this loss. The woman next to him made a sign of the cross. Then he continued the story. By some miracle, the current swept him toward Chloe and Emma. When he saw that she had a child, he took Emma and swam to shore. Then he came back for Chloe.

  And that was just the beginning of their adventures.

  Mateo talked about hiding from the fires the first day, and traveling most of the next. This morning, Chloe had been feverish when she woke up. She shouldn’t have been walking, he said. They were on Birdie Trail when she fainted.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Josh said.

  “No thanks necessary,” Daniel answered, translating.

  Josh shook Mateo’s hand, and Daniel’s hand. The story blew him away. Josh didn’t think he’d have had the balls to jump off a bridge to save his own sister, let alone a complete stranger. He knew he couldn’t rescue anyone from a sinking vehicle. What Mateo had done for Chloe and Emma was nothing short of amazing.

  As evening fell on the third day after the earthquake, Emma drifted off in Josh’s arms. Chloe was safe in the recovery room. Helena laced her fingers through his and rested her head on his shoulder, sharing the peaceful moment with him.

  They were alive, and they were together, and that was more than enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHLOE DOZED OFF and on, dreaming about wild animals.

  In one, a crouching cat leapt from the bushes and onto the okapi’s back, digging its powerful claws into zebra-striped hindquarters. In another, Emma pressed a button on her book to send the events into motion. When she made the tiger growl, the animal appeared before her, conjured from the page.

  Chloe was told that her surgery had been a success. She got transferred to a smaller room. There were at least two other patients behind curtained partitions. A nurse helped her use the restroom and removed her IV. Chloe fell asleep again, waking at sunset.

  Josh was there.

  Tears flooded her eyes at the sight of him. She thought he’d been with her this morning by the nature trail, and later at the naval hospital. But dreams and reality had blurred together, leaving her confused about which was which. “Where’s Emma?”

  “In the waiting room, asleep.”

  “With Mateo?”

  “Yes.”

  Josh offered her a sip of water from a straw and adjusted her bed so she could sit up. Then he took a seat by the windowsill. His clothes were dirty and torn. He had unruly stubble, scrapes on his face and bandages on his arms.

  “You look terrible.”

  “I’ve had a rough day.”

  “What happened?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  When she shook her head, he told her the story. Her stomach tightened as she imagined how close to death he’d come. How close Emma had come.

  He cleared his throat, looking out the window. It was getting dark. There were other people in the room, talking to other patients. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear their voices beyond the curtains. “Mom and Dad are on their way. They couldn’t get a flight to L.A., so they’re driving in.”

  Chloe pulled back the blanket to study her wound. It was puckered and L-shaped, with ugly black sutures. She’d have a scar there, much more pronounced than the ones on her arm. That was okay. This scar would be a source of pride, rather than shame. It would be a symbol of her will to live, a sign of strength.

  “I’m sorry for yelling at you and Emma the other night,” he said.

  She had to stretch her mind to remember the minor incident. It seemed like months ago. “You’re apologizing for that? What about the time you locked me in a closet so you could smoke pot with your friends in the backyard?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. That was traumatic.”

  “I love you, Chloe.”

  She was touched by his sentimental declaration. He’d always been affectionate, but he didn’t say those words often. He must have been really worried about them. “I love you, too,” she said, blinking away tears.

  “I can’t thank Mateo enough for saving you guys.”

  She wondered what Mateo’s plans were now that they were safe. He might go back to Panama and never return.

  “We spoke through a translator earlier. He told me he jumped off the bridge for you.”

  “He jumped?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  She shook her head in awe. The impact with the water could have killed him. He’d risked his life to rescue her.

  “Would you have survived otherwise?”

  “I doubt it. I was tangled in my cardigan, already weak from cold. I could barely hang on to Emma.”

  Josh nodded grimly.

  “He practically carried us across the city.”

  “That’s what I gathered. He seems pretty attached to you and Emma.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond. The feeling was mutual.

  “Is he your new boyfriend?”

  “Did he tell you that?” she asked, startled.

  “No.”

  When Josh arched a brow, she realized he’d been teasing. Embarrassed, she adjusted the blanket over her lap.

  “Something going on between you two?” he asked.

  “Nothing you need to know about.”

  “Maybe I should go ask him what his intentions are.”

  “Stop.”

  He smiled, leaning back in his chair.

  “I like him,” she admitted. “I don’t care what language he speaks. Do you think that’s weird?”

  “It’s a little unorthodox.”

  “Mom wouldn’t approve.”

  “She doesn’t have to, does she?”

  He was a good brother. She remembered seeing him with a woman earlier. “Is your coworker still here?”

  “Yes. Her name is Helena.”

  “Something going on between you two?”

  “I hope so.” He glanced toward the doorway, as if eager to get back to her.

  “You don’t have to stay with me.”

  “I’ll send in Romeo.”

  “Mateo,” she corrected, her lips twitching. Then she touched her disheveled hair, trying to smooth the tangles. Mateo had already seen her wet, bedraggled, sick and unconscious, so maybe it didn’t matter how she looked.

  He arrived a few minutes later with a teenage boy.

  “I’m Daniel,” the boy said.

  Chloe shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Mateo wanted me to translate.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know if communicating this way would be more awkward, or less. “Okay.”

  There was only one chair, so Mateo offered it to Daniel. The boy sat down, arranging his bangs over his
forehead. He was wearing a black T-shirt, shorts and black tennis shoes.

  Mateo stood next to him. His white soccer jersey had some red licorice smudges on the sleeve. Like Josh, he looked a little rough around the edges. His eyes were dark with concern, his jaw shadowed with grains of stubble.

  Still hot.

  He was so handsome and appealing that she almost didn’t want to ruin it by talking. Too much reality might break the magic spell. There were questions she was afraid to ask. If he was going back to Panama. If he had a girlfriend.

  “How are you?” he asked in English.

  “Better.”

  “Good.”

  After a short pause, he spoke to Daniel in rapid-fire Spanish.

  Daniel listened carefully and turned to Chloe. “He said he hopes he didn’t make your leg worse with too much activity.”

  She blushed, unsure if he meant last night’s activities or the walk this morning. “I’m fine. It was my choice to…be active.”

  Daniel translated for Mateo again. “He should have let you rest.”

  “I didn’t want to rest,” she said. “I enjoyed not resting.”

  Mateo smiled, needing no translation for this exchange. Chloe suspected that Daniel knew exactly what they were talking about. He was at least fourteen, and old enough to pick up on the subtext.

  “Can you ask him where he’s staying, and what his plans are?” she asked.

  This question required a detailed response. Mateo said that he was in San Diego for an international soccer tournament. His team had spent the week at the local youth hostel. A scout had noticed him during one of the games and offered him a spot on an L.A. college team, along with a two-year scholarship. He’d accepted. Assuming the deal went through, he wasn’t going home anytime soon.

  Chloe was thrilled for him. “What about after that?”

  Daniel listened to Mateo’s answer. “He wants to play soccer. He doesn’t care where.”

  Fair enough. “Will he miss Panama?”

  “He will, but there are better opportunities for him in the U.S.”

  There was one more thing she had to know before this went any further. “Does he have a girlfriend back home?”

  Mateo said something to Daniel and gestured toward the door.

  “He says he can take it from here,” Daniel said.

  Chloe felt a twinge of anxiety. Before the boy walked away, she said, “Wait. Can you tell me what mamita means?”

  Daniel smirked at the question. “Depends on who you’re talking to. It can mean little girl, mother, or sexy lady.”

  “Thank you,” Chloe said to Daniel. He was cute.

  After Daniel left, Mateo brought the chair closer to her bedside and sat down. She reached out to hold his hand. “No girlfriend?”

  “Solo tú.”

  “Only me?”

  He nodded. “Si quieres.”

  If she wanted to be.

  She didn’t even have to think about it. Communication between them was bound to improve in the months to come. He’d only been here a few weeks and he already understood quite a bit of English. They’d make it work.

  Maybe they were an unusual couple, but she was an unusual girl. She couldn’t worry about strangers looking down on them, or even her mother. They had a special connection. They were both survivors. She liked his dark good looks and the sound of his voice, but his words and actions meant a lot more to her. He was brave, and strong, and kind. If people said they had nothing in common, they were wrong.

  “Okay,” she said, agreeing. “I will.”

  He grinned, squeezing her hand. Then he gestured to her leg. “A ver?”

  When she showed him the jagged row of black stitches on her upper thigh, he swore under his breath.

  “It looks worse than it feels,” she said.

  He braced a hand on her knee and kissed the soft skin above the sutures. She shooed him away and covered the exposed area with her hospital gown, flushing. If he kept that up, she was going to get feverish again.

  “Mouth here?” he asked, lifting his lips to hers.

  She twined her arms around his neck with a happy sigh. “Mouth here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  HELENA STAYED AT the hospital with Josh for several more hours.

  She met his parents in the waiting area. They were an attractive couple, concerned for Chloe and frazzled from the long trip. Josh introduced Helena as his girlfriend, earning a dirty look from her. But he also introduced Mateo as Chloe’s boyfriend, and they didn’t seem to take that news seriously.

  Josh told his parents he and Helena had to leave because she was injured and needed rest. Although she could use the sleep, she suspected that his motives for whisking her away weren’t completely altruistic. He winked at her as they said goodbye, as if his plans for the night involved something other than relaxing.

  The problem with sneaking off to be alone together was that they didn’t have anywhere to go, other than a crowded evacuation center. Finding a hotel near the hospital was impossible. There wasn’t a vacancy in all of Southern California, and transportation options were limited. Flights had been canceled and rental cars were booked. They ended up taking a tour bus to his hometown of San Luis Obispo.

  Josh looked on the bright side. “At least my parents won’t be there.”

  It was a long ride, more than four hours, but they made good use of the time. She curled up next to him and fell asleep. He drifted off, too. Before she knew it, they’d arrived at the bus station. From there, they took a cab to his house.

  The Garrisons were comfortable, rather than rich. They had a modest home in a nice neighborhood. The front yard was perfectly manicured and the interior was spotless. There were pictures of Emma all over the walls. Josh went straight to the kitchen and drank juice out of the container like a rebellious teenager.

  “No dog?” she asked, glancing around.

  “My mom doesn’t like dogs. Or cats.”

  “She seems a little high-strung.”

  He nodded in agreement. “My dad is pretty mellow, so they balance each other out. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  His parents had been on vacation, so there wasn’t much to choose from. He made scrambled eggs with cheese and olives. It was her first hot meal since the earthquake, and deliciously simple. After they both ate their fill, he took her on a tour. His dad had a study downstairs, and there was a wine cellar for his mom.

  The bedrooms were upstairs. Chloe’s room had an edgy, eclectic style, with lots of black and dark purple accents. There were stuffed animals on the bed and a crib in the corner. It was a mix of teen angst, young mother and Goth girl. Josh didn’t linger here.

  His room must have been redecorated in the past ten years. There were no rock ‘n’ roll posters on the walls or baseball trophies on the shelf. It was a basic guest space with a four-poster bed and a vaguely nautical theme.

  “Where’s Wonder Woman?” she asked.

  He went to the desk and opened a drawer, rifling through the contents. When he found a frayed comic, he tossed it to her.

  She flopped on the bed and flipped through the pages, giggling in delight. “Is this from your secret stash?”

  “Not really a secret. They aren’t porn.”

  The images weren’t explicit, but they were plenty sexy. Scantily clad women brandished weapons and did high kicks. They were muscular and voluptuous, striking exaggerated poses. “You never read these one-handed?”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “If I could have taken them into the shower, they might have had a little more stroke mileage.”

  “Who fights in a vinyl bikini?”

  “Chain-mail bikinis are better,” he agreed. “See-through.”

  Helena found a page with a catlike vixen on all fours. She left the book open on the bed and tried to mimic the posture. It was impossible to contort her body into the right shape. Josh laughed at her attempt, clearly enjoying the view.

  “I can’t get
my tits to bounce up and my ass to pop out at the same time,” she said, twisting her midsection.

  “Arch your back more.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Like this?”

  “You’re making me horny.”

  “Are there any pictures of Wonder Woman tied up?”

  He joined her on the bed, gripping her hips tight and pressing himself against her upright bottom. “Let’s take a shower, and we can recreate any scenario you like,” he said, his hands roving over her breasts.

  They stayed on the bed for a few minutes, kissing and touching. Then they moved into the bathroom, still entwined. He didn’t want her stitches to get wet, so he filled the tub. They brushed their teeth while they waited, sharing the sink. When the tub was ready, he helped her climb inside. She groaned as the luxurious heat enveloped her. He settled in behind her, causing water to slosh over the rim.

  “Uh-oh,” he said. “I’m going to get grounded for that.”

  She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. He soaped her breasts and toyed with her nipples, his erection nudging her buttocks. She thought he might let his fingertips wander south, but he didn’t. He washed her hair carefully, pouring water from an empty vase. Although he was still hard, he didn’t rush.

  When he was finished, he pressed a tender kiss to her nape. “Scoot forward.”

  She did, giving him space to wash his own hair. He dumped water over his head and shampooed quickly, not bothering with conditioner.

  She released the plug after he rinsed, letting the water drain. His cock bobbed above the surface. She wanted to turn around and plaster her wet, naked body against his. Instead he grabbed her hips and pulled her bottom into his lap. “Let’s fuck like elephants,” he said in her ear.

  “Your dirty talk is terrible.”

  “Pretend I’m too big to fit inside you.”

  He was half-silly, half-serious. Her breath quickened as he cupped her breasts. “Elephants can’t do it in a bathtub.”

  “What about a bed?”

  She didn’t say no, so he helped her out of the tub and dried her off with a towel. They returned to the bedroom. His erection was pretty impressive. Not elephant-sized, or too large for her to handle. Just right.

  She crawled across the bed on all fours, torn between embarrassment and arousal. “If you were really an elephant, you’d have to test me first.”