Текст книги "Lost and Found"

Автор книги: Nicole Williams

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

It was raining, storming, when I rushed out of the barn. Big, fat raindrops drenched me by the time I’d sprinted into the house. When I shoved through the back door and into the kitchen, I found the dinner and whatever mess Jesse and Pierce’s brawl had created.

Rose was at the sink, in her terry cloth bathrobe, drying the last dish.

I thought everyone would have been asleep. It was late, but I should have known Rose would stall, wait for me to finish with “my moment.” I was cold and wet, but I was thankful for it. The rain coating my face disguised the tears.

I wanted to head to my room so badly. I couldn’t talk anymore. A wound I’d been so sure was close to healing had been ripped open that night. Not only that, I knew I’d just given myself another one. Jesse Walker was the kind of wound a girl could never recover from.

Rose placed the platter she’d been drying on the counter and came toward me with her arms opened. I shot a quick glance at the stairs again, wishing I could escape up them.

Then Rose’s tiny arms folded me up into a big hug, and there was nowhere else I’d rather have been.

“I love you, sweetheart,” she said after a while. “We all love you. You are loved.” She smiled up at me through the tears trailing down her cheeks. “Don’t let anyone else, most of all yourself, tell you you’re not.”

She was crying. I was crying. I’d never cried as much in my entire life as I’d cried that summer.

Giving me a moment to let that set in, she rubbed my arms, then let me go. Rose had a sixth sense about what I needed without having to even ask. She knew when I needed a hug, when I needed to be left alone, and when I just needed to think.

That sixth sense made sense. She’d been through it all before. She’d figured it out with Jesse first.

As much as I wanted to sprint up those stairs, I couldn’t. I could barely put one foot in front of the other. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. Exhausted in the way that sleep wouldn’t cure.

Once I was inside my room, I peeled my wet dress off and changed into a pair of leggings and that old tee of Jesse’s that had become my favorite sleep shirt. I made sure my window was closed and locked before I tucked myself into bed.

It was the first night I’d kept my window closed since I’d climbed up into Jesse’s room. I never thought I could cry as much as I did over a window, but my sobs ripped through me so long and so hard that, after a while, they rocked me to sleep.

A CLAP OF thunder shaking the farmhouse jolted me awake. It was still dark and my eyes still felt puffy, so I knew it couldn’t have been all that long since I’d fallen asleep. After fumbling around for my phone, I saw it was just past midnight.

Another crack, that one shaking the house even more, and I instinctively reached for the space beside me on the bed.

I found . . . nothing. Just an empty space and a cool to the touch sheet.

Jesse wasn’t lying beside me. He wasn’t here to wrap me up in his arms, whisper in his sleepy voice that everything was all right, followed by a yawn, before we fell back asleep.

Jesse was gone because I’d pushed him away. Like I always knew I would. Like I knew I had to. For reasons I couldn’t quite remember in my sleep stupor, but for reasons that had seemed important earlier.

I tried lying back down. That lasted for all of two seconds before it became clear I couldn’t fall back asleep with the thoughts raging through my mind.

How could I let Jesse go? How could I let the Walkers go? How could I simply cut the best things in my life loose? Would I really walk away because things got hard? Would I really push the people who loved me away because they’d gotten too close? Would I really take the first healthy thing that had come into my life in a long time and throw it away?

The knowledge that I was strongly considering it made me realize I was, as Jesse said, trying to deny others what I’d been denied. I was becoming like my mom.

That was the thought that jolted me out of bed.

I moved silently down the hall and stairs and headed for the kitchen. I wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t know where else to go. All I knew was that I couldn’t stay in my room and I couldn’t climb up into the room I wanted to be in until I figured some shit out.

I knew I was facing one of those life-changing decisions. One of those defining moments. I was at a fork in the road. Would I continue down the same self-destructive, familiar path or would I choose to make a change, scary and unknown as that change would be?

A flashing sign with the answer in front of me would be really nice.

A light streaming from the living room caught my attention. The house was quiet except for my footsteps padding around the kitchen floor, so someone must have left a light on. I shuffled through the foyer, and when I entered the living room, I didn’t find it empty like I thought I would.

Rose sat on the floor, a few photo albums spread out around her, along with a pot of tea still steaming on a tray.

My instinct was to back away before she noticed me. I went against my instinct.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” I said, crossing the room toward her.

She didn’t look surprised to see me. In fact, when I took a closer look at the tea tray, I saw two cups instead of one. She’d been expecting me, it would seem.

“No.” She shook her head. “I never can when I know one of my babies is hurting. I suppose it’s a mother’s curse.”

I stopped at the edge of albums. “You talked with Jesse?”

She reached for the teapot and poured some into the other cup. “I did. He let me know that he told you about his past. About his adoption.”

I played with the hem of Jesse’s shirt. “Did he tell you about us?”

Rose set the teapot down and sighed. “He didn’t need to, sweetie. I could see it all on his face.”

I shifted and fought the urge to turn around and leave. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, Rose. I just want what’s best for him, you know?”

“Believe me, Rowen, as his mother, I know plenty about wanting what’s best for him.” She looked up at me with a serious expression. “I’m just hoping you’re going to realize sooner rather than later that you are what’s best for him.”

“You don’t mean that,” I whispered.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. And neither would Jesse. Maybe one day, Rowen, you’ll believe that, too.”

I didn’t reply. I wanted to believe that, but I wasn’t sure if I ever could. “Is everyone else asleep?” I wanted to steer the conversation away from the current topic.

“The girls are, but Neil and Jesse headed out about an hour ago with a few of the other ranch hands to look for a missing calf.”

I narrowed my eyes. “In the middle of the night? In the middle of this?” Another clap of thunder rocked the house to prove my point. “Couldn’t it have waited until morning?”

“Well, it could have,” Rose replied with a lift of her shoulders. “For anyone but Jesse or my husband.” She smiled and shook her head. “I think Neil was eager to get out of the house after the . . . earlier events, and Jesse looked like he needed the distraction even more.” I didn’t need to wonder why or what he needed a distraction from. “It’s probably for the best, anyways. There are plenty of predators out there, cliffs to tumble over, or fences to get tangled up in. A calf won’t last long once it’s separated from the herd.”

It still seemed extreme, but that seemed to be the status quo when it came to ranching and cowboys. “I hope they find the little thing soon then.”

“Me too,” Rose said with a nod. “I was getting these out for you.” Rose swept her hands over the photo albums. “When Jesse let me know he told you about the adoption, I figured you’d have questions and you know what they say . . .” she studied a photo of a young boy with white blond hair and smiled, “a picture says a thousand words.”

I tip-toed around the half dozen albums she had spread around her and took a seat beside her.

“And then I started thumbing through one, and I just kept thumbing.” She waved at the mass of albums.

I picked up the one closest to me and opened it to the first page. A young Neil and Rose stood with a young boy with sad eyes. He clung to Rose where she held him. Neil and Rose were smiling. Five-year-old Jesse was not. A note below the photo read, The day we brought our baby home.

A lump formed in my throat. I was so familiar with the hopeless, lost look on young Jesse’s face I could have been looking in a mirror.

“I’m glad he told you.” Rose leaned over and studied the picture. “It’s something he doesn’t like to relive, but it will always be a part of him.” She was quiet for a few moments as she gazed at the photo. “What those people did to him was unthinkable. His own flesh and blood abused and neglected him in ways worst enemies wouldn’t even conceive of doing to one another.”

I polished my thumb over Jesse’s sad face. I couldn’t comprehend how anyone could show anything but total love and adoration for the child in the photo.

“When the agency described what had happened to him . . . When we had to read through pages and pages of notes detailing the abuse he’d gone through . . .” Rose’s voice trembled, but she cleared her throat and continued, “Neil and I couldn’t not adopt him. We knew the risks. A young boy abused in the ways he had been had a high likelihood of becoming an extremely troubled young man. But you know what we said?” She chuckled and smiled down at the picture. “We told them to stick their ‘likelihoods’ where the sun doesn’t shine and asked to take our son home.”

I smiled with her and flipped the page. “And you all lived happily ever after.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, taking a sip of her tea, “but we didn’t underestimate the power of a stable home and a loving family. We gave him that, and the rest was up to him.”

The next page was his first day of kindergarten. Well, homeschool kindergarten, but he still had a backpack and a new pair of boots, and he posed in front of the Walkers’ front door. His eyes were still sad, but he wore a smile.

The photo on the next page was Jesse up on a horse, maybe a couple years older. He had on a hat three sizes too big for him. He had another smile on his face, but in that one, his eyes matched his smile.

“He got better,” I stated, flipping to the next page. “You and Neil fixed him.”

“It took a lot of time and even more hard work, but yes, Jesse got better,” Rose said, grabbing another album. “But he fixed himself. We gave him a hand up, but the only person who could fix Jesse was Jesse.”

When her eyes shifted back to me, they softened. She might as well have just said The only person who could fix Rowen was Rowen.

A few pages later, I found a picture of the Jesse I knew. He was a few years younger, but he wore the same white tee, painted-on jeans, light hat, and brown boots. It was the first photo I’d seen where he’d been smiling big enough to notice his dimples. My heart hurt when I stared at that picture long enough.

I started to cry again.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Rose grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.

“My mom hates me, Rose,” I said, wiping away the tears. “My mom brought that man back into her life. Back into my life. How could anyone who loved someone do that to them?”

“Your mother doesn’t hate you. She just has a very poor way of showing her love.” Rose scooted closer so she could wrap her arm around me. “I couldn’t tell you what drew your mom and me together way back when. She was a lot like she is today, and I was a lot like I am today. But there was a chemistry between us. She never opened up to me, but I always sensed she’d lived a hard life. One she was running away from.”

I grabbed my cup of tea and took a sip. I’d never known my grandparents. I’d never known any family other than my mom. I’d also guessed there must have been a lot of bad blood between them because I’d never once received a birthday card from my own grandparents. It was all I’d ever known though, so I’d never given it a lot of thought.

Could it be I didn’t know a single blood relative, including my own father for crying out loud, because mom had pushed away everyone? The same way she’d pushed me away as much as a parent could an underage child in their home?

While I couldn’t be certain, it seemed a very possible explanation.

“So what does that mean?” I said, taking another sip before setting my cup back down. “I forgive and forget?”

Rose shook her head. “No, Rowen. It means you let go.” She brushed my hair behind my ear in a motherly way. “Sometimes we just have to cut off the dead branches in our life. Sometimes that’s the only way we can keep the tree alive. It’s hard and it hurts, but it’s what’s best.” She paused to take a breath. “Don’t let a dying branch take you down with it. Maybe one day she’ll change, but don’t go down with her, Rowen.”

“But she’s kind of taking me down no matter what I do,” I said, unable to look away from Jesse’s picture. “Art school was my ticket out of there. But now . . . the only place I have to go at the end of summer is back home. I tried following her rules this summer. I tried so hard to please her. But none of it mattered. I doubt she was even planning on paying my way through art school in the first place.”

“Maybe she was, and maybe she wasn’t, but don’t let your mom decide your future.”

I exhaled. “Kind of hard not to in this case.” Another clap of thunder rocked the house. The lights flickered. “Art school’s kind of expensive, and money isn’t something I have a lot of.”

“Have you ever thought about starting out at a community college with a good art program? Then transferring to a dedicated art school later?” Rose poured herself another cup of tea and topped mine off.

“Not really,” I said. “But at this point, I’m willing to consider any and all options that have me doing something related to art. Unless it involves paint-by-numbers. Because that’s the opposite of art.”

Rose fought a losing battle to keep her smile contained. “Here’s the way I see it. You’ll have earned enough money this summer to pay for a year’s tuition at a community college. If you want to come back next summer, we’d be happy to have you, and you could save enough for the following year.” I wasn’t sure if what I heard was real. Was the answer to my college dilemma so easily solved? “After that, you can apply for financial aid and scholarships and get into whatever art school you want. Doing it on your own, without being dependent on your mother.”

“I was never coming here to work for pay, Rose. Mom sent me here so I could prove to her I could work hard and walk a line.” The truck ride to Willow Springs, when Jesse played his favorite CD, popped to mind. Mr. Cash and his lyrics took on a very personal meaning.

“That may have been what your mom intended, but that’s certainly never what Neil and I intended. You’ve worked hard this summer, Rowen. You’ve been an asset to us, sweetie, not a liability.” Rose thumbed through the album in her lap. “I was just telling Neil I don’t know what I’m going to do when you leave us for school in a few weeks.”

A lot of information was coming at me. “You’re going to pay me?” I asked, feeling yet another lump form in my throat.

“That is what one does in exchange for work, Rowen.” She chuckled and rumpled my hair. “In the morning, we can start researching some community colleges with good art programs and late enrollment deadlines. Then we’ll get you signed up.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was speechless, and I was grateful, and I was overwhelmed. Art school on my own, paying my own way, dependent on no one but me.

It sounded wonderful. Too good to be true.

Then something jumped to mind, and I realized it was too good to be true.

“What about Jesse?” I’d pushed him away just a few hours ago, I’d turned and run away from him, but he was the first thing I thought about when I considered leaving Willow Springs.

Rose opened the album in her lap to the last page. I took a double take.

It was Jesse and me, sitting in one of the porch swings. His arm was draped over my shoulders like it always was when we were together, and my arm was wound around his stomach. He was looking down at me and I was looking up at him and we were just . . . grinning at each other. Like we were the happiest fools in the whole world.

That was why I’d needed a double take. I wasn’t used to the grinning, happy girl that had been caught on film. That wasn’t me.

Yet it was. The photo was all the evidence I needed to know I could change, like Jesse had. I could move on. I could be happy. I could move on and be happy . . . with him.

You know all those people who talk about epiphanies and life-changing revelations? Yeah, I’d been positive every last one of them was full of shit up until right then.

My mind was in that state between boggled and blown when a loud rapping sounded at the front door.

Rose’s eyebrows came together. “What in the world?” She rose and headed for the door. I rushed after her because part of me was worried my mom and Pierce were back for round two.

Rose glanced through the peephole before unlocking and swinging the door open.

“Justin,” she said, motioning him inside, “what’s the matter?” I’d seen some wet and dirty cowboys that summer, but not once had I seen one close to what Justin looked like. He was more mud than man.

“Sorry to burst in on you in the middle of the night, ma’am,” he said, sliding his hat off and making sure he stayed on the door mat. “But there’s been an accident.” Justin glanced my way for a brief moment. “It’s Jesse. He was out scouting the ridge, but when we all met back in the middle, Sunny showed up. Jesse wasn’t on him.”

I half gasped, half whimpered. Rose came up beside me and tried putting on a brave face. “Did he . . . do you think he might have fallen over the ridge?” Her voice wavered in places.

“We don’t know, ma’am,” Justin replied. “Neil and the rest of the boys are out searching for him right now, but he wanted me to let you know so you were . . . prepared for however we find him.”

I couldn’t decide if I was closer to passing out or having a heart attack. Either seemed probable.

“Listen here, Justin,” Rose said, stepping forward with me in tow. “My boy is strong and he knows this land like the back of his hand. You will find him and we’ll attend to whatever wounds he may have inflicted when you bring my boy back home. Bring. Him. Home.” It was the closest I’d seen Rose to breaking, the weakest I’d ever seen her. “Do you understand me?”

“We will, Rose,” he said, meeting her eyes. “We will.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Neil asked me to grab one of the big first aid kits and some flares. Could you help me with that?”

“Of course. Come with me.” Rose turned and rushed into the kitchen. “And don’t worry about tracking in mud. Now’s no time to be worried about dirtying the floors.”

I put my hand out as Justin passed me. “Do you know where he is?”

“We know about where he is,” he said. “The trouble with that ridge is that the trail’s so narrow, if your horse takes one wrong step, you’re free falling down a hundred feet of rock face. Jesse’s a good rider and has traveled that ridge hundreds of times, but the rain’s coming down so hard you can barely see more than ten feet in front of you out there, and the mud’s up to our horses’s knees in some places.”

“Has anyone taken the ridge to look for him?” I stopped him again when he tried to pass.

“At night? In this weather? No, it’s suicide unless you’re Jesse Walker. Then it’s just very, very dangerous.”

“You’re just going to leave him there? What if he’s hurt? What if he’s dying? Someone has to go look for him!” I felt frantic knowing he was out there somewhere, possibly injured, and I couldn’t get to him.

“There’s a way into that ravine. You just have to take the long way around if you don’t want to or can’t take the ridge. If he’s down there, we’ll find him, Rowen. We’re not going to leave him alone.”

“Yes, but you just said the long way around. How much time does that take?”

“A half a day—or night, in this case—on horseback,” he answered.

“If he’s hurt, he could be . . . he could be . . .” I couldn’t get it out, so I clamped my mouth shut.

“Were doing our best, Rowen,” Justin said quietly. “We all like Jesse. We’d all risk our necks for him, but going out on that ridge would be like throwing your life away. No one would make it to him before they fell over the side, too.”

When Justin moved to pass by again, I let him.

I felt helpless. I was helpless.

Or was I?

With Rose and Justin preoccupied in the storage closet, I threw open the door and stared at the barn. A loud, almost frantic whinny came from it.

I could do it. I would do it.

I retrieved my ratty combat boots from the shoe basket beside the door, pulled them on, and raced for the barn. Justin was right. The rain was coming down so hard, I couldn’t see too far in front of me.

Once I was inside the barn, I slowed just long enough to snag one of the rain coats and headlamps hanging just inside and made my way down the row of stalls. I didn’t have long. Rose and Justin would have their supplies packed, and as soon as she knew I’d disappeared, Rose would figure out what I was up to. She wouldn’t let me go and do what I was about to do. She’d throw me down and sit on me if she had to, but I wouldn’t sit around when Jesse needed me.

Most of the stalls were empty. Another loud whinny came from one of the stalls a bit farther down, and I almost cried when I saw who it was.

Sunny was as wet and muddy as Justin. He was in his stall, pacing around and rearing up onto his back legs every few paces. He acted as frantic as I felt. Justin must have led him back, and thankfully, he was still saddled and bridled.

Jesse had showed me how to both saddle and bridle a horse, but I wasn’t especially quick at it. Right then, time was critical.

“Whoa, boy,” I said, as calmly as I could. “Are you worried about Jesse, too?” After slipping into the rain coat, I reached for the gate and slowly slid it open. From the crazed look in Sunny’s eyes, I worried he’d come barreling out of the stall as soon as I opened it.

Sunny flung his head about a few more times, then went as calm as a high-spirited horse like Sunny could go. I slid the gate the rest of the way open and grabbed ahold of Sunny’s reins. He let me lead him out of the stall and even stood still for me when I lifted my foot up into the stirrup. In all the times Jesse and I had gone out for evening rides, I’d never ridden Sunny. I usually rode Lily’s horse, Buttercup. The only time I rode Sunny was if Jesse was on him with me. Sunny didn’t like any other riders except for Jesse. The couple ranch hand show-offs I’d seen try it had been thrown within five seconds.

And there I was, someone who’d never ridden a horse before that summer, about to ride a one-man horse into the worst possible riding conditions. My survival instincts apparently took a vacation when I knew Jesse was in trouble.

I shifted my weight into the stirrup and swung my other leg up and over. I grimaced the entire time, bracing my body for Sunny to throw me off as soon as I settled into the saddle. A few seconds later, I opened my eyes to make sure I was in the saddle, on top of Sunny.

Sure enough.

Buttercup never even stood so steady and she was a twenty-year-old mare who could barely manage a trot anymore.

“Okay, Sunny,” I said, grabbing hold of the reins. “I’m going to need your help, buddy. I need you to help me find Jesse.” I slid the rain coat hood over my head and squeezed Sunny’s sides. He moved. He actually accepted a command from someone other than Jesse. “Take me to Jesse.” We emerged from the barn into the same sheets of rain. Sunny whinnied, and I just barely made out a form looking out the kitchen window. So much for my head start.

Grabbing onto the saddle horn as well, I clucked my tongue, and Sunny sprang to life.

Other than holding on for dear life and trying not to fall out of the saddle, I let Sunny do the rest. He raced past the corrals, past the driveway, and turned without any prompting from me. He really was taking me to Jesse. Sunny charged down the dirt road I’d driven a few times when I had to take lunch out to the guys working in the upper fields.

It wasn’t a dirt road anymore. It was a mud road. Sunny lost his footing a few times in the sludge, but I managed to stay in the saddle. Clumps of mud hit me from every angle, and the rain, at our speed, hurt my face until it finally went numb. It was the most rain I’d ever seen, and I’d grown up in Portland, Oregon.

Sunny charged ahead like he was the underdog in the Kentucky Derby. He did all the work, he blazed the trail; all I did was manage to hold on. So why did I feel so damn exhausted by the time Sunny’s gallop slowed? Might have had something to do with being soaked to the bone and my lower half being all tingly and numb from bouncing around in the saddle.

We were long past the spot I’d dropped the guys’ lunch off. I couldn’t tell how far, but I knew it was miles farther. The rain was slowing, so the visibility had slightly improved, but when I saw where Sunny was heading, I kind of wished I couldn’t see a thing again.

We were winding down a trail that continued to narrow. Where we were, the trail was wide enough for two riders to travel side by side, but every few feet, it got narrower and narrower until, finally, it seemed barely wide enough for Sunny and me.

To my left was a sheer rock face that went straight up a good twenty feet or so. To my right was a drop off. I couldn’t tell how far down the ravine was, but I could tell it was pretty far away from how long the rocks Sunny’s hoofs sent over the edge took to fall.

My heart pounded the farther down the ridge we traveled. Every survival instinct I possessed clawed at me to turn around and go back. Had turning around been possible on the narrow trail, I might have attempted it. I might have if any person but Jesse was down there.

That’s what kept me going. That’s what I knew kept Sunny going.

Jesse.

A moment later, I felt it. The oddest sensation I’d experienced to date. As though a slack rope I hadn’t even known I’d been tied to went taut, I could go no farther. I pulled up on Sunny’s reins, but it was a wasted effort. Sunny had stopped an instant before.

We’d found him. I knew it. It wasn’t just the rope I could feel. It was him.

“Good boy, Sunny,” I praised him, rubbing his neck. “You found him.”

I slipped on the headlamp and clicked it on. It didn’t cut through as much of the dark and the rain as I would have hoped, but I could make out that the drop off from that part of the trail was less treacherous looking. It was still steep but manageable with the proper equipment and experience. I happened to have neither.

I decided on which way I’d take down into the ravine before dismounting. Trying to climb off a horse on a trail that was maybe three feet wide was no easy task, but I managed it without causing permanent injury to human or horse.

I did one final check of my planned route before taking a deep breath. “I’m going to go get him, boy. I’m bringing Jesse back.” I didn’t know who I was trying to reassure, me or Sunny, but he replied with a low neighing sound.

I didn’t stall any longer. Staring over the precipice wouldn’t get me to Jesse any faster. I lowered my right foot, and when it felt stable, I lowered my left. The slope felt just as steep as it looked, but I was doing it. I was side-stepping, grabbing a hold of any branch, rock, or vine I could to give myself a bit more balance as I continued down.

I was in action, so my heart wasn’t in my throat any longer and I didn’t feel like I was on the verge of a panic attack. I’d jumped, quite literally, and there was no going back. Not without Jesse beside me.

My old boots didn’t look anything like hiking boots, but they worked like champs on the muddy, steep, and uneven terrain. It was a bit surreal knowing a pair of black leather boots had saved me two different times in my life.

I was almost to the bottom of the ravine, not even a body length away, when I lost my foothold. The branch I’d been using as a support snapped, and I spent the last part of my descent rolling down the hill.

I groaned when I landed. The nice thing about the buckets of rain that had come down was that it had made the ground soft. Other than being a muddy mess and waking up to a few bruises in the morning, I was just fine.

I readjusted my headlamp and scanned the area. The ravine wasn’t much more than some scraggly bushes and rock, but it was enough to conceal a body. So I’d check around every bush, rock, and cranny in the whole damn ravine if that’s what it took. He was down there, I knew that. Just waiting for me to find him.

The thunder had died down almost entirely, so I held my head back and yelled his name over and over again as I searched.

No answer. No Jesse.

He was close, so close. I felt him, so why couldn’t he hear me? Why wasn’t he answering me? The only reason he wouldn’t answer was if . . . My stomach twisted into a knot.

No. I wouldn’t let myself think that. I wouldn’t think that.

He was there. He was fine.

I started moving faster, searching more frantically. I had just rounded one of the bigger shrubs I’d seen in the ravine when I tripped over something. I flew to the ground again, followed by another groan.

Scratch that: I would wake up to more than “just a few” bruises in the morning.

“Rowen?”

My heart about burst right out of my chest. I rolled over and sat up to see what I’d tripped over. Well, who I’d tripped over.

“Jesse!” I cried, crawling toward him. He was laying on the ground, his back propped up against a level rock. He was as muddy and drenched as I was and looked so beat up, my breath caught in my lungs.

“What in the hell are you doing out here?” he said, struggling to sit up. He winced, grabbed his ribs, and collapsed back down into his prior position.

“Are you all right?” I crawled closer and scanned his body for visible signs of damage.

“I’m fine,” he answered, shifting up again. That time, he made it, although from the look on his face, I would have thought someone just shoved a hot poker through his hand.