Dane's Storm(48)

Audra’s chest rose and fell on a big intake of air. “How long do you think?”

I shook my head. “I wish I could say. We don’t have a way to look at the weather report.” I squinted at the sky. “The cloud cover today would make it damn hard to conduct a decent search.” Shit. “Let’s hope for tomorrow or the next day at the very latest. We have enough food and water. We’ll be okay. And you built a damn good shelter. Today we can work on it a little bit more.”

Audra groaned. “Two more days? God.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either, but I’m glad to be alive.”

She nodded her head jerkily. “Me too.”

“All right then, let’s get that shelter of ours as airtight as possible and then we’ll have a delicious dinner of pretzels and watered-down soda.” At that, she smiled. It was gentle and soft, but what made it so incredible was the faith I saw in her expression.

She trusted me.

Something that had once been my greatest pride and joy.

Something I never thought I’d see in her eyes again.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


Audra



We spent the next few hours reinforcing our shelter.

I’d found two tall boulders next to each other in the forest area at the top of the hill and used the piece of carpet and some garbage bags on top of them to create a place to sleep. It was flimsy, but usable, and though I was immensely grateful that Dane was now conscious to help reinforce it, I was also proud that I’d managed to make one at all.

As we worked, I thought back to that night and a shiver ran down my spine, not from the cold, but from the terror and loneliness I’d experienced. But I also remember thinking that Luella Townsend had been wrong. The words she’d uttered at the hospital all those years ago had never left me, and they came back to me then.

She’s such a tiny thing, Dane.

My body might be small, but it was strong. I was strong. I had managed to get us both to shelter despite the odds, and something deep, deep inside where I stored the broken pieces of me, felt as if it was being knit back together.

Dane had the idea to break off branches and weave them together to create a thicker doorway than the one I’d managed to create, attaching the garbage bags to the backside using dental floss from my cosmetics bag since I’d used all the thread on his leg. I had to admit, the heavier, waterproof door not only did a better job of keeping out the wind and cold, but now we wouldn’t have to listen to the incessant flapping of the garbage bags.

I watched Dane work, watched as he stood back and assessed the shelter then broke more small branches from the tree and stuffed them between the small crack at the back where the two large rocks butted up to each other. He looked focused, intent, but I also noticed that his face was pale and his hands were shaking even though we’d both donned socks as mittens.

“I think we should take a break. You don’t want to overdo it, Dane. You’re suffering from a head injury and just had surgery.” I shot him a teasing smile and he chuckled.

“Speaking of my recent surgery, I need to clean the wound. You did an amazing job of closing it up, but I need to make sure it doesn’t get infected or I’ll be in trouble.”

I nodded. “Let me do it. It’s easier for me to reach.”

I flushed his wound with more of the alcohol while he gritted his teeth, tipping his head back with the pain. “Jesus,” he hissed. “That hurts like a bitch.”

“I’m sure it does. Even when you were unconscious, you flinched.”

His expression was still pained, but I recognized a deeper distress in his eyes. It hurt him to think of what I’d gone through while he’d been unconscious, and something about that pulled at an old internal scar. I had a job to do, though, and so I focused my attention on Dane’s wound.

I poured a little bit of the cold water over it, catching the runoff with a sock. He looked woozy and appeared to be shivering, whether from the cold or from the pain of his injury, I wasn’t sure, but I covered him with the blankets, pulling them to his chin.

“Will you lay down with me?” His voice was soft, and he didn’t open his eyes.

I hesitated for a moment. We’d slept side by side for the past two nights, me wrapping my body around his in an effort to share body heat, but now that he was awake, things felt . . . different. There was no choice, though. If we were going to survive this night—and please, God, let it be the last one—then we were going to have to snuggle. Snuggle sounded like the wrong word. It sounded comfortable and like a choice. This was forced snuggling, which seemed like a contradiction.

Dane squinted at me, only one eye open and though his face was pale, his expression was somewhat amused. “It looks like your brain is working hard enough to spark fire. Please continue.”

I huffed out a breath. “Funny. Scoot over a little.”

When he did, I lay next to him. He turned so he was lying on his good thigh, spooning me and bringing the blankets around us to form a small cocoon.

His breath was warm on the back of my neck and his words brought more warmth to my chest. “Tell me that story again.”

“What story?” I whispered, even though I was pretty sure I knew the one he was referring to.

“The story about the Indian chief.”