Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
By the time we reached the cabin, I felt like I was moving through thick water. Everything seemed muffled and distant, including my own thoughts. Foster unlocked the door, and Chickie bounded toward us, tail wagging frantically, but even her enthusiastic greeting felt like it was happening to someone else.
“Shower,” Foster instructed, guiding me toward the bathroom. “You’ll feel better once you’re clean.”
I stood in the middle of the small space, staring at the shower controls like they were written in a foreign language. The simple act of turning on water seemed impossibly complex. Behind me, I heard Foster moving around, the soft sounds of him gathering towels and testing the water temperature.
“Arms up,” he said gently.
I blinked at him. “What?”
“Your shirt. It’s covered in blood and mud, and you’re…” He studied my face with those careful eyes. “You’re not really here right now, are you?”
I looked down at myself and saw what he meant. My clothes were filthy, stiff with dried blood and dirt from kneeling on the wet pavement beside Hazel’s car. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this completely wrung out. Not even on my worst ER shift.
I realized distantly that though I’d been through similar situations a million times—the adrenaline rush of a high-stress situation, followed by the overwhelming fatigue of an adrenaline crash—it really did hit differently when the crisis was happening to you. When it was someone you loved in danger. The emotional component made it harder to think reasonably and follow protocol in the moment and harder to overcome when the crisis was over.
“I don’t think I can,” I admitted, the words coming out smaller than I’d intended.
Foster’s expression gentled. “Okay. That’s okay.”
His hands were careful as he helped me out of my ruined clothes, his touch clinical but infinitely tender. There was nothing sexual about it—just one person taking care of another who couldn’t quite manage it himself.
When he started pulling off his own shirt, I found enough brain function to be confused. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t fall down in there,” he said simply, stepping out of his pants. “Come on.”
The shower was barely big enough for one person, let alone two, but Foster guided me under the warm spray, and I immediately understood why he’d insisted. My legs felt like they might give out at any moment, and the steady pressure of his hands on my shoulder and hip was the only thing keeping me upright.
“Just relax,” he murmured, reaching for the shampoo. “Let me take care of this.”
I closed my eyes and let him wash my hair, his fingers working gently through the strands, massaging my scalp with a tenderness that made my throat tight.
When was the last time anyone had tried to take care of me like this?
When was the last time I had let them?
The warm water sluiced over my skin, carrying away the grime and tension of the day. Foster’s hands moved with unshakable efficiency—washing the dried blood from my forearms, the mud from my knees, the salt tracks from tears I didn’t remember crying.
“Hazel’s really okay,” I said, my voice barely audible over the water.
“She’s really okay,” Foster confirmed, his hands still moving in slow, soothing circles across my back. “You saved her life, Tommy. You know that, right? If those young EMTs hadn’t kept the leg properly stabilized during the extraction…”
Something cracked open in my chest—relief, maybe, or just the delayed shock finally hitting. The fear I’d been holding back since we got to the scene of the accident rushed through me like a dam breaking, and suddenly, I was shaking again, harder this time.
“Hey.” Foster turned me around so I was facing him, his hands coming up to frame my face. “Hey, it’s okay. She’s safe. You got her out.”
“I almost lost her,” I whispered, the words torn from somewhere deep inside. “If you hadn’t been there, if we’d been any later—”
“But we weren’t. And you didn’t.” His thumbs brushed across my cheekbones, and I realized I was crying. “You did everything right, Tommy. Everything.”
The sob that escaped me sounded like it came from someone else entirely. Foster pulled me against his chest, and I buried my face in the curve of his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin as everything I’d been holding back poured out of me.
He didn’t try to shush me or tell me it was over. He just held me under the warm water, one hand stroking my hair, the other rubbing slow circles between my shoulder blades, while I finally let myself feel how terrified I’d been.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured against my ear. “I’ve got you.”
And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I actually believed someone did.
By the time my breathing steadied, the water was starting to run cold. Foster reached around me to turn off the taps, then wrapped me in the largest towel he could find, rubbing briskly to chase away the chill.