Dane's Storm(73)

Oh thank God. “Please be safe,” I managed.

“I will.” I heard a few things hit the ground near me, and one farther away, but didn’t turn my head to look. My eyes were trained on the spot where Dane would come over the cliff, my heart thumping loudly in my ears. What if he fell too? What if he couldn’t make it? What if—

The soles of Dane’s shoes came into view first as he backed up over the mountain ledge, not a single piece of mountain climbing equipment in his possession, only a flimsy, handmade leather rope. A small gurgle of terror sounded in my throat. I would not distract him, not now when he needed to focus the most.

Slowly, slowly, he backed over the edge, my heart lurching ferociously with each movement he made. The leather rope he’d fashioned looked so damn thin, so inadequate to hold the weight of a grown man. He dangled, trying to find purchase with his feet on the rock, but seemingly unable to because of the coating of ice. After a short pause, he un-gripped one hand and moved it below the other, moving down another foot. Oh please, please, please. He came down another few feet, slowly, slowly and as he drew just a little closer, I could see that his arms were shaking. Oh Dane. Oh God.

He lowered, hand over hand, feet finding a tiny ledge when he could, but otherwise dangling. Hot tears leaked from my eyes to watch him struggling so mightily. He was supporting the entire weight of his body with only his arms and they had to be burning so badly. It should be unendurable. And yet still he held on, still he came for me.

As he approached the halfway mark, I saw that he was running out of rope and my heart stopped before resuming in a quickened beat of fear. Oh God! What was he going to do? I wanted to ask him, to call up, to help, to do something, but I knew he couldn’t answer. And I knew I was all but useless. My breath came out in small panicked bursts.

And suddenly I heard an awful tearing sound as the piece of leather at the top of the cliff, the one stretched over the edge, ripped, and Dane began to fall.

My own scream pierced the silence right before Dane’s cry of pain accompanied the heavy thud of his body hitting the ground. “Dane! Dane!” I cried, struggling to pull myself toward him with my arms, my legs dragging uselessly behind me.

“Stop,” Dane panted out in a harsh, wheezing exhale. “Stop.” I halted in my movement, drawing in huge mouthfuls of air, trying desperately to catch my breath. “Don’t move,” he wheezed. “I’m okay.”

For a moment he didn’t move at all as if he was gathering some last vestige of inner strength, and then on a loud, gasping moan, he pulled himself to a sitting position, grabbing his head in his hands and wincing.

After another few seconds, he let go of his head, turning his body toward me and crawling to where I was waiting, still up on my one good forearm. “I’m okay,” Dane said again but he most definitely didn’t look okay. His face was flushed red, and he was sweating profusely, his entire body shaking with fatigue or sickness, or probably both. “I’m okay,” he said, as I collapsed onto my back. He took my face in his hands and I could no longer hold back the tears. I cried silently, tears streaming down my cheeks as he brought his bearded face to mine, kissing me and whispering words of comfort.

“Y-you knew the rope wouldn’t reach—”

“Shh. I had to tie it on a tree at the edge of the woods. There was nothing else. That took up half the rope. I thought it would hold until I was close enough to drop with less risk. But I’m okay.”

But I knew he wasn’t okay. As far as broken bones, yes, but as far as the infection that affected him, no. He needed to be in a hospital, and badly.

God, please give him strength. Theo, help your daddy.

“I saw some smoke. I think. Did I tell you that?”

“Smoke?” I whispered, my mind becoming fuzzy as if it had taken all the stress it could and was closing down at the edges.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Just this far-off wisp of it, baby. I . . . wasn’t . . . sure, but we’re going to head in the direction it came from. Hope . . .”

I hummed back, comforted by his voice as he talked, the words only barely computing. Smoke. Just a wisp. Maybe. And that was our hope—a tiny tendril of vapor that Dane wasn’t entirely sure was real. But it was a small something. And that was better than nothing at all.

And I’d come to realize that any hope . . . no matter how small, no matter how unlikely, was just that: a wisp of smoke in the misty distance that you headed toward no matter the cost to get there.

And that’s what we would do. Together.

But right now it hurt too much to move. Dane wrapped his arms around me tightly, trapping my arms to my sides. I felt like a burrito.

“I’m going to buy you a burrito when we get back,” I murmured.

He smiled, though his eyes were filled with feverish sadness. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said, his teeth chattering. “And then I’m going to marry you.”

“You already did that once.”

“I know, but I’m going to do it right this time.”

“We’re going to do it right this time,” I murmured on what I hoped was a smile. But was my face so frozen it wasn’t cooperating? No idea.

“We are,” he agreed.

I nodded, my eyes closing, my body giving way to sleep, the cold no longer permeating my entire being.