Chapter 16

chapter

sixteen

As they moved away from the sinkhole and made camp on a flatter, more solid patch of land, the adrenaline started to wear off and the pain really set in.

Lucy tried to focus on her breathing, on Sawyer's steady presence beside her, on Zelda, who was scurrying around them like a puppy, sniffing at everything—on anything but the throbbing pain in her back. But it was hard. She was exhausted, physically and mentally, and the pain was relentless. It never stopped, only shifted from a dull, pulsing ache to sharp, stabbing jabs that took her breath away.

Sawyer was a quiet, solid presence beside her, his fingers careful as he unzipped her backpack and pulled out the first aid kit. She could hear the rustle of fabric, the crackle of the wrapper as he pulled out a fresh bandage. He took the time to clean his hands and then squirted sanitizer on them, and she was irrationally torn between gratitude for his gentleness and irritation at his efficiency. A part of her wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop being so calm and competent when she was in pain. But she bit back the words before they could escape. She couldn't keep taking her bad tempers out on him.

"Okay," he murmured. "I'm going to need you to lean forward a bit."

She nodded, grimacing as she shifted her position. If it weren't for the pain, she might have enjoyed the feel of Sawyer's hands on her—strong, warm, and reassuring. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the feelings that were simmering inside her. She couldn't brush them off as mere gratitude or comfort-seeking anymore. Not when every laugh he shared, every touch, every quiet moment between them felt so intensely personal. So right.

Sawyer dabbed an antiseptic pad on the raw skin of her wound, and she hissed at the sting of it. Her thoughts immediately derailed.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered quickly, his hands momentarily still against her back. "I'm trying to be as gentle as I can."

"I know," she said through gritted teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as another wave of pain washed over her. "It just... it fucking hurts."

She felt Sawyer's chest rise and fall against her back as he sighed quietly. "Just another minute, and I'll be done torturing you. And… there." He smoothed a fresh bandage over the wound, then handed her a packet of ibuprofen. "It's the best I can do, but we should head back at first light so Grant can take a look at it."

She winced at the suggestion and swallowed the pills, washing them down with a swig from his canteen. "I don't trust him."

"I don't trust any of them," Sawyer said flatly and leaned against the trunk of a tree, pulling her back against his chest. "But he was a medic."

She relaxed into him. "We should keep going toward the cell tower. Unless you think you can get the radio working…?"

His chin was resting on her shoulder, and she felt his jaw tighten in frustration. "No. It's fried."

"Then trying to get a signal on the phones is still our best bet."

Sawyer drew a breath, then let it out in a whoosh. "Dammit, I don't like it. I'd rather get you back to someone who can actually look at that wound… but you're right.

Sawyer's arms tightened around her in a protective manner, an unspoken promise that he would do whatever it took to see her safe. She'd never had that before he came into her life. After escaping her ex, she'd thrown herself into becoming a park ranger, and then into her job. She'd taken care of others, but couldn't remember a time when anyone had taken care of her, not like this. Not like Sawyer.

She turned in his arms and snuggled closer to his chest. Beneath her ear, she felt the steady thud of his heartbeat.

Something warm curled in her chest, something that felt suspiciously like love. She turned her head to look at him, at his pale blue eyes hidden behind the golden strands of his hair. He was looking right back at her, his gaze steady and unblinking. She knew he couldn't see her, not physically, but it still felt like he was seeing right into her soul. It was a feeling that both terrified and comforted her. It was also a feeling that made her want to kiss him stupid.

And so she did.

She slid her hands up his chest, one resting on his heart, the other curling around the nape of his neck. She pulled him down and pressed her lips to his.

His reaction was immediate and electrifying. He met her kiss with a force that left her breathless, his hands tightening on her as if he was afraid she would pull away. But she wasn't going anywhere— not now, not when everything felt so impossibly right.

It was the kind of kiss that made the world fall away. It was just them in that moment, wrapped up in each other's arms and lost in the taste of each other's lips.

Pulling back just enough to catch her breath, Lucy stared up at Sawyer. His pale blue eyes reflected a world she longed for— a world without predators lurking in shadows or wounds aching deep within her soul. A world where there was just him and her. That was what she wanted. What she had always wanted, even before she knew who Sawyer Murphy was.

She opened her mouth to tell him all of that…

Zelda nudged between them, dropping a wet tennis ball on their laps.

Sawyer groaned. "You really do have the absolute worst timing, girl."

Zelda sat and panted happily, her eyes flicking from the ball to Sawyer.

The dog looked so unapologetically hopeful, Lucy couldn't help but laugh. "Where did she find that?"

"My bag, probably." Sawyer picked up the ball and gave it a toss. Zelda launched after it. "I either knocked it out while looking for the ropes to pull you out of that hole, or she went digging for it."

Lucy looked over at his backpack. He'd propped it by a tree, but it now sat on his side with its contents strewn over the ground. "She definitely went digging for it."

"Crazy dog." Sawyer chuckled, ruffling Zelda's ears as she returned and dropped the ball again. He picked it up and lobbed it into the trees.

Zelda darted back and forth, the ball occasionally skittering out of her reach with every enthusiastic snap of her jaws. Sawyer leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes, listening to her play, his face creased in gentle amusement. Despite everything —despite the ache in her back and the uncertainty of their situation—a warmth spread through Lucy as she watched them.

After everything she'd been through, the simple act of a man and his dog playing fetch was almost unbearably sweet.

Neither of them spoke for a long while. The forest came alive with the night sounds as the sun sank beyond the horizon—the hoot of an owl, the rustling of leaves, and the distant howl of a coyote.

A chill crept over her skin as the air cooled. "I'm going to start a fire."

Sawyer's eyes popped open. He tilted his head in her direction, a small half-smile playing on his lips. "Do you need a hand?"

"No, I got it." There was an almost fierce pleasure in the task, in setting up the kindling just right and striking the flint until the spark grew into a flame. She fed it slowly, patiently, until it was a roaring fire that drove back the shadows and warmed away her aches. She pulled the MREs from her bag. She only had the a few packages, but she figured after the day they'd had, they deserved to splurge on a… well, if not good meal, at least a full one.

"Chicken burrito bowl or beef stew?" she asked.

"Whichever you're not eating."

"I have two packages of each."

"Then definitely the stew," he said. "It's the best."

She couldn't argue with that. As she heated enough stew for both of them, she realized she was feeling better. Still sore, but the pain wasn't as bad as before.

The first bite of stew had her nearly moaning. "I never thought I'd be saying this, but this doesn't taste half bad."

Sawyer chuckled softly and scooped up a spoonful of his own. "That's because you've been eating trail mix and beef jerky for the past two days."

They ate in comfortable silence. She watched the fire dance and crackle, enjoyed how the soft orange light played over Sawyer's face, accentuating his angular features. He really was a handsome man. Before his injury, she imagined he'd been quite the heartbreaker.

"Did you date a lot?" The question burst out of her before she could second guess it.

His eyebrow arched and he stopped with a spoonful of stew halfway to his mouth. "Date?"

Oh, God. It was a good thing he couldn't see her face. Going by the heat in her cheeks, it was probably flaming red. "I mean, before you were injured. You must have had women throwing themselves at you."

He set down his meal and looked in her direction, small smile pulling at his mouth. "Who says I still don't?"

"Oh." Could her face get any hotter? "I guess, the way you've talked, I assumed you haven't…"

Shut up, Lucy. You're just digging yourself a deeper hole.

She closed her mouth but couldn't help the little embarrassed sound that escaped her. "Forget I asked."

He chuckled and reached out until he found her hand. "No, it's okay. You can ask me anything." He gave her fingers a squeeze. "I didn't date that much before. I had a girlfriend for a while, thought I was going to marry her, but… well, it was difficult with the Marines always moving me around. She decided she didn't want that life. I don't blame her, don't hold any ill will toward her. She found a more stable guy and they got married, moved to the suburbs, had some kids. I didn't want that life. I liked what I was doing too much, so I'm happy she found what made her happy. And… you're right. I haven't really dated since I was injured. For the first few years after, I was too up in my own head, too fucked up. It's only recently I've started considering it again."

She blinked at him, feeling a lump lodge itself in her throat. "You... you've thought about it?"

He nodded. "Yeah, every year or so I think about joining an app or something, but it's a whole new territory. Not just the regular dating hurdles, but..." He trailed off, his face turning solemn. "Whenever a potential date finds out I'm blind, they start treating me differently. Either like I'm a kid or a fragile old man."

"That's because they don't know you," she said simply. "Anyone who can't see beyond your blindness is blind themselves."

He laughed softly and leaned back against the tree. "Dating is just..." He sighed heavily, then shrugged. "Never seemed worth it."

Lucy watched him in silence, her heart aching for him. She knew what it was like to be judged on something outside your control. To be seen as damaged and weak when you knew you were anything but. Her fellow rangers had been looking at her like she might break ever since she returned to work.

She looked down at their entwined hand. "Is there… anything that would change your mind?"

A slow smile spread over his lips, and he tugged on her hand, pulling her back into his lap. "Yeah, you. I've only started to consider it again since I met you."