Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Leo.
He charges down a path so deeply etched into the snow it might as well be part of the landscape.
Instantly, Frankie’s stance shifts from exhaustion to action, a spontaneous release of energy. With an excited squeal that pierces the frosty air, she takes off running.
He quickens his pace, eating up the distance with his long legs, a far more controlled gait than her reckless, full-on sprint. She shrugs off her pack and rifle, dropping them mid-stride, and they meet in a crash of bodies, their embrace a desperate tangle of arms.
I hang back, watching them with a flood of warmth in my chest.
The chill of our surroundings dims in the heat of their reunion, their famished kisses, creating an ephemeral bubble of happiness.
When he lifts his head and finds my eyes, I approach them slowly, soaking in the silent laughter and shared joy emanating from them.
I need to tell him she died on my watch, that I almost broke my promise and didn’t bring her back to him.
But not now. Not in this moment of perfect relief as I join their embrace.
His arms envelop me, thawing the cold that settled in my bones and softening the aches from the long journey.
With Frankie trapped between us, I rest my nose in his braided hair. He smells as familiar to me as my own skin. But beneath the usual woodsmoke and mechanic oil, there’s something new. I sniff him again.
Jet fuel.
“You started the plane.” I lean back, meeting his mismatched eyes. “Did you hot-wire it or find the key?”
“Both, actually.” He perches his chin on her head, grinning. “I bypassed the ignition, got it running, and decided to roll it forward a few inches…”
“No.” My eyebrows shoot upward.
“Yeah. The key was under one of the tires.”
“Beneath its wings…” Frankie stares up at us. “Lie the answers. So what did he do? Park the plane and physically push it over the key?”
“Yep.” He kisses her brow. “The gauges show full fuel, and comms appear to work.”
“But we’re out of range.” Her lips curve down.
“Unless another aircraft flies over.” He looks at me. “The other one never returned.”
It’s been six weeks. It’s not coming back.
“How about a hot shower and a meal?” Leo hauls my pack off my back, giving me instant, blissful relief. As he shoulders the weight, his eyes fall on her. “Want a piggyback ride?”
“Nope. I have a few more miles left in me.” She bends and stretches her legs. “Kody might need a lift, though.”
With a grunt, I snatch her pack off the ground and give her ass a hard swat. “Let’s go.”
On the hike back, Leo doesn’t press us with questions. But she senses his need for answers and fills the silence with every detail of our one-month journey.
She recounts the long, frigid nights we spent huddled in our tent and doesn’t hold back on her disdain for outdoor bathroom breaks, which never got easier for her.
She mentions my nightmare, addressing her concerns about it. Then she moves on to the moose I tracked, which led us across the frozen lake.
Leo, usually a ball of tension, walks quietly at her side, his demeanor calm, attentively listening.
It’s her retelling of the plunge into the ice-cold lake that brings him to an abrupt stop.
Her voice trembles as she describes the terror of falling through the ice, the bone-chilling cold, and the struggle to reach the surface.
“I remember being trapped under the ice, then…nothing.” She shrugs. “There’s this huge hole of nothingness in my memory. Not a tunnel. No bright lights. No angels or demons or anything. One minute, I was in the water, and the next, I was lying beneath Kody on solid ground.”
Leo’s gaze slams into mine, demanding answers.
“Her heart stopped.” I run a hand down her arm, holding his stark stare. “I performed CPR.”
His reaction shocks me. The brother, who’s always quick to anger, remains stoic, his expression thoughtful.
She jumps in, detailing how my prompt intervention brought her back from the brink twice. First from drowning. Then from hypothermia.
There’s a new maturity in his silence, a depth to his calm that wasn’t there before. He absorbs every word, nodding at times, his face betraying nothing of the turmoil he must feel hearing about her death.
When she finishes, the silence stretches between us.
“I’m glad you’re both safe.” His gaze lingers on her before shifting to me. “Thank you for bringing her back.”
To me.
Those two words hover at the end, but he doesn’t say them. With regard to Frankie, there’s no more me or mine.
There’s only us.
Ours.
He knows I fucked her, and his ability to embrace that without explosion marks a new chapter for us. But I know he has questions, concerns about how he fits in this inexperienced, unexplored dynamic and what it looks like going forward.
As he searches my eyes, I open my expression and let him in. I let him see everything.