Lost and Found (Twist of Fate #1)(57)

I threw the rope across again, trying my hardest to place it perfectly so he couldn’t help but grab it. This time it was in the right spot and he grabbed onto it, using it to help him get his legs under him so he could push toward the side of the river. I quickly ran the rope around a nearby tree to help me get leverage and shouted encouragement as he got closer.

“That’s it, baby,” I called out. “You’re doing it. Come on, come to me. You got this. Just a little bit more.”

I could tell it was taking every ounce of his energy to make it to the river bank. The water was snowmelt from the alpine peaks, and I knew we had precious little time before hypothermia would drain what little energy he had left. He was already white as a sheet and completely waterlogged, and I sent up a prayer for him to just hang in there a little longer.

He stopped pulling and looked at me, and I knew in that moment he didn’t have enough energy left to keep going.

“I can’t,” he mumbled. I couldn’t hear the words as much as read his lips.

“I know you’re tired, baby, but just a little more. Please.”

The current knocked him sideways and his head went under. He was struggling so hard to keep a hold of the rope, but when he popped back up, I could see his hands slipping. He looked at me with the most heartbreaking expression of apology.

“No!” I screamed through my own tears. “Don’t you fucking dare! Hold that rope. Hold it Bennett Crawford, goddammit, do you hear me?”

I knotted the rope where it was and ran after him, knowing I had seconds before the current would rip the rope out of his hands, and I’d lose him forever. It was my only shot. If I couldn’t get to him in time, I might as well throw myself in the river and go with him.

Because a life without him in it was a life I was no longer interested in living.

I scrambled out into the water and grabbed for him, managing to snag his shirt with my hand until I got a better grip on one of his arms. As I pulled him toward me, I saw some gashes on his skin— watery blood pooling for a second before being washed away by the river every time he was splashed. The current tried to pull him out of my grasp, but I held onto him for dear life.

If the river wanted him, it was damn well going to have to take me too.

My stockinged feet slipped in the shallow water as I pulled him closer to the bank. I could already feel the numbing of my own feet and was terrified of what that meant for Bennett, who’d been in the water longer. I needed to get him dry and warm as fast as possible.

Even when I was finally able to pull him to safety, that wasn’t the end of the danger. He was unconscious by then, so I quickly tilted him on the ground to try and get the water out of his mouth and lungs before assessing him. His skin was white and freezing cold. He had a nasty-looking gash on his temple and some scratches on his arm, but those were the only injuries I could see.

I whacked him on the back and he began sputtering, water coming out of his mouth and nose in choking gasps.

Once I felt like he was breathing well enough, I grabbed him up in a fireman’s carry, thanking god he wasn’t quite as big or built as I was. I quickly made my way up the riverbank to where I’d left my pack, looking around for a safe place to set up the tent to get Bennett dry and warm.

Only about fifteen yards away from the bank was a canyon wall with a kind of overhang; it wasn’t really a cave, but it would provide shelter from the wind and the worst of the coming rain.

Despite my burning muscles, I worked as fast as I could— talking out loud to Bennett, even though I knew he was out of it.

“Just gonna get the tent put up real quick and then we’ll get you warm,” I murmured, snapping poles and secretly thanking my years of loyalty to the same tent I’d bought as a newbie backpacker. I could put the thing together in my sleep, and this shock was about as close as I’d probably come to doing just that.

Once the tent was up, I unfurled the sleeping bag and threw it inside, turning to where I’d rested Bennett against the rock wall and my pack. He was in and out of lucidity and mumbled periodically, asking if I was okay.

“You hurt?” he asked with his eyes closed.

“No, baby. Just scared for you. Come on, let’s get you undressed as fast as we can.”

He snorted. “F’you say so.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I yanked his shirt off him and used my own semi-dry shirt to dry the river water from his skin and hair and mop up the blood on his face and arm. Luckily, both wounds had stopped bleeding. By the time I got him completely naked and inside the sleeping bag, I was half-naked myself. I’d used my drier clothes to dry him off, and then I searched for the small camp stove in my bag to get some water boiling for hot chocolate. I had to get a warm drink in him as soon as possible.

While the stove took its time heating the water, I stripped the rest of the way and slid inside of the bag next to him. His skin was like ice, and I gathered him up with my arms and legs to try and get as much of my warmer skin against his freezing skin as I could.

He was shivering terribly and I stared out through the tent flap, willing the water to start producing steam. It seemed to take forever, but I finally saw a tiny white puff of steam unfurl from the pot. I crawled out of the bag to the sound of Bennett’s whimper of complaint.

“Getting you something warm to drink. Be right back,” I said over my shoulder. When I returned with the giant mug of hot cocoa, I had to prop him up, his back against my front, so I could help him drink it.