THE RAINWATER DRIPPING onto his neck through the parachute overhead felt wonderful to Brian. He was tempted to stand up and let the rain pour over him to cool his fevered flesh. But a clap of thunder, and the smell of ozone as another bolt of lightning zinged through the air, reminded him how risky that would be. The storm was moving off, but he had no desire to abandon his position, wedged comfortably against a tree trunk.
Taylor had fallen asleep in his embrace. One of his arms had fallen asleep as well, but he didn’t want to move, for fear of waking her. For the first time, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He wondered how little she’d slept when they were in the cave, and how little she was sleeping out here in the open, while his illness savaged him during the night.
He could feel the fever taking hold again. In a few minutes he’d need to wake her up and get moving. Every step counted, now that his strength was fading.
He was a man who’d always been very much in control of his life. As little as a year ago, he’d felt smug and cocksure, knowing he had the world by the tail, with both work and a woman he loved. That complacency had ended with his divorce. After that swift kick in the nuts, he’d concentrated on being a good firefighter and smoke jumper.
He’d never imagined Tag would come back into his life, that he might have another chance with her. But if they survived…
There was the rub. Things weren’t looking too good for him, which was why he hadn’t said anything to her about the future. Tag was in good shape, and she was smart. With a little luck, she might make it. Better not to say anything that would have her grieving once he was gone. She needed to concentrate on staying alive.
If she cares about you, and it seems she does, won’t she grieve whether you speak or not? Tell her how you feel, Brian. While you still have time.
He heard Tag snuffle and felt her stretching in his arms. “Hey, sleepyhead. How do you feel?”
“Hmmph,” she said.
He watched her open her eyes and saw in their troubled blue depths the sudden realization of where she was.
She sat up straight and looked around. “The storm’s gone.”
“It passed off a half hour ago.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
She started to rise, but he tightened his grip on her waist. “I’m not ready to go yet.”
She pushed against his shoulders. “Half the day is gone, Brian. We need to get moving and find a source of water.”
“We have plenty of water.”
“I want enough water to sponge you off and keep your fever down overnight.”
That was plain speaking. There was no use arguing that he wasn’t as sick as she believed he was.
“Come on, Brian. Let me up.”
Reluctantly, he released her. She shoved her way onto her feet, then turned and gripped his hands to pull him upright.
It frightened him to realize he needed her help. Before he could reach for the parachute, she’d already pulled it off the branches where it had been hanging, shaken it to get rid of as much water as she could, and begun folding it up. Instead of handing it to him, she draped it over her own shoulder, along with the sleeping bag.
Brian had realized something else while he’d been watching Tag sleep. Their trail, which would have been simple to follow in the soft soot left by the fire, had likely been washed out by the heavy rain. Of course, none of that mattered unless someone had located the cave where they’d been hiding and started tracking them before the rain began.
Brian wanted to hope for the best, but he figured he’d better prepare Tag for the worst. Although, from the haunted look in her blue eyes, she’d already divined the worst for herself.
“I can’t smell smoke anymore,” she said as they started walking again.
“Let’s hope the fire is out.”
“Doesn’t that mean all the smoke jumpers will be heading home?” she asked. “Won’t that leave us out here all alone?”
“Our families are still searching. They’re out here somewhere. All we have to do is hold on till they find us.”
He tried to meet Tag’s gaze, but she wouldn’t look at him.
“Tag? Hey, brat!”
“What do you want, Brian?”
“I want you to look at me.”
“I’ve seen all I need to see.”
“Which is what?”
“You’re flushed. You’re sweaty. Your eyes are wells of pain. You’re limping like a pirate with a stump for a leg. What is it you’d like me to notice?”
“Look at me!”
When she did, he grinned. Broadly.
“Oh, you crazy man,” she said angrily. “How can you possibly be grinning at a time like this?”
“If a few days with you are all I have left, I intend to enjoy each and every one of them. That means being happy. That means thinking good thoughts. That means loving you while I can.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Loving you. Might as well say it. I’ve got nothing to lose. Neither do you. Do you love me, Tag?”
“You’re off your rocker. Sick with fever. You’ve lost it completely.”
“Yeah, maybe. But do you love me?”
“That would be stupid, considering the fact that you’ve written yourself off. I mean, what would be the point of loving a guy who’s only got a few days left to live.”
“Aha! I see your clever plan. You get me to live in the hope that you’ll say you love me, if I survive.”
She shook her head, as though he were a pitiful excuse for a man. Maybe he was, but he didn’t intend to waste whatever time he had left. Especially the time he had left when he wasn’t out of his head with fever.
“Let’s plan our life together after we get out of here,” he suggested.
“You go home to the Lucky 7, and I go home to Kingdom Come. End of story.”
“Except now that Matt’s moved in, you aren’t going to have a home at Kingdom Come for much longer. And life hasn’t been too comfortable for me at the Lucky 7 since I messed things up between Aiden and Leah. I suppose that means we should get a place of our own. We need to know how many kids we’re going to have, so we’ll know how many bedrooms to get.”
“We discussed this in high school,” she said.
“We did? I don’t remember any such conversation.”
“I said I wanted two kids and you said you wanted four. We settled on three.”
“Huh-uh. No way did I agree to that. If you have three, one gets left out. Two or four. That’s my final offer.”
“Did I mention you’re crazy?”
“What does that have to do with anything. So three bedrooms.”
“Three? I’m confused.”
“You’ll probably have two sets of twins, since they run in your family. One bedroom for the boys, one bedroom for the girls, and one bedroom for us.”
She laughed, and he absorbed the happy sound as though it were a pail of cool water dumped over his head. “You with me?” he asked.
“Sure. Why not? The kids go to school in Jackson. No boarding schools.”
“But college wherever they want.”
She nodded, then said, “Barrel racing for the girls, calf roping for the boys.”
“Agreed.”
“No bareback bronc or bull riding!”
“I won’t encourage it, but I won’t discourage it, either.”
She huffed out a breath of air. “I’m not raising sons to have their skulls crushed and their ribs gored by some nasty bull.”
“They can wear helmets and flak jackets.” When she made a face he said, “I don’t want to tell my kids what they can and can’t do. I’d rather advise them of the dangers and let them judge for themselves.” He put up a hand to keep her from objecting and added, “When they’re old enough to make those sorts of decisions for themselves, of course.”
“I’m not going to stop flying.”
“I never said you had to. I’m not going to stop firefighting and smoke jumping.”
She shot him a look, and he knew what she was thinking.
If you’re still able. If you aren’t crippled. If you aren’t dead.
He didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say. His leg hurt like a sonofabitch, and he was dizzy. He felt himself stagger and grabbed a pine branch to stay upright.
“Thank God,” she whispered.
He was so disoriented, it took him a moment to realize that they’d stumbled onto another stream. This one was wider and deeper. He lurched a step or two farther and sank down in the shade of an aspen near the water. “Gotta take a little break.”
He felt her hand on his forehead, calm and soothing, felt her brush the hair back from his face, as she helped him remove his PG bag and settle comfortably on his back. She was kneeling next to him, and he felt her cool cheek pressed against his, along with something warm and wet. A tear?
“Don’t cry,” he mumbled. “We’re going to…make it. Just have to…hold on a…little…”