Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
My legs gave out on the muddy and rocky slope, and I propped myself up with my hands as I panted. That had been close. That had been way too damn close.
Arms wrapped around my waist as a wet body pretty much tackled me, sobbing, “Nina,” and from the other side, a warm, furry body slammed into me too.
“Love, love, love,” Duncan told me as my arms shook and he wound his frame—on his belly—around them like a cat.
I was crying, I realized. I was crying. Water dripping from my face onto the rocks wasn’t from the river; it was from my eyes.
A lick at my cheek, at my chin had me sucking in the breath I hadn’t been able to take before. Wrapping an arm around Duncan, who was making this frantic sound in his chest, I set my hand on Pascal, tears blurring my vision.
As I rolled onto my butt, both of them climbed on top of me, and another set of arms wrapped around my neck. It was Shiloh, I thought, and from the sound of it, he was crying too.
“I’m sorry,” Shiloh whimpered.
“I’m sorry,” Pascal hiccupped, crying so loud it was hard to tell what he was saying.
“You okay?” Agnes asked a moment before she must have patted the top of my head.
“Love,” Duncan told me, licking my cheek before licking my other cheek, so frantically. “Love, love, love.”
I’d been so damn scared.
So freaking, freaking scared, I could finally admit it in my head. I clung to the kids just as tightly as they held on to me.
It took me a minute to notice they weren’t the only ones shaking. I was shaking like a dang leaf too.
And if that was what fear felt like, I never wanted to experience it again.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
“Are you mad?”
I peered down at the little boy clutching my hand tightly. The same little boy who hadn’t loosened his grip even a little bit from the moment he’d taken ahold of it over twenty minutes ago, all damp palm and slippery fingers, clinging so hard my hand hurt more than it already did from the scrapes and the tiny puncture wounds from clutching at the fallen log that had probably saved my life and Pascal’s. One day I’d go back and give it a hug.
“I’m not mad,” I assured Shiloh, squeezing his hand. It was taking everything I had not to let my teeth chatter.
There was a poke to my forehead a moment before the top half of a familiar head appeared in my vision. “Are you mad at me?” Pascal asked from his position perched on my shoulders again, where he’d been holding on to my ponytail like it was reins on a horse. He was basically a cold, heavy brick on top of me. He’d taken off most of his clothes, and I’d wrung them out as much as I could, same as I’d done to mine. The difference was, he seemed perfectly fine. His skin wasn’t even cold.
I was still shaking. My bones and skin literally hurt. Every muscle in my body was wound so tight, they felt on the verge of tearing.
But in a weird way, I felt more alive and more dead than I ever had before.
Not that I wanted to relive that incident again.
For now, my whole focus was centered on us making it to the golf cart, and the sooner I got us back to the clubhouse, the sooner everything would be fine.
Because what I needed more than anything at that moment, more than warm clothes, more than a hug, was a cry in the privacy of my shower. I didn’t want to traumatize any children more than I already had. We’d been a spectacle, and I was glad no one else had been around to witness it.
Shiloh and Pascal had wept all over me on the bank, and Duncan had done the puppy equivalent. He had let out these little “awoos” that had the potential to scar me for life. Agnes had managed to keep her tears in check, standing off to the side of us, her face tense. Her arms, on the other hand, had been crossed over her chest.
A violent shiver went through my whole body right then, and Pascal grabbed onto my ears to hold on better. When we’d realized he’d lost both shoes in the river, I’d been under the impression he would just change into his werewolf puppy form, but he said he was too tired. Then, I’d asked him if he wouldn’t prefer a piggyback ride on the way back to the UTV—because of his barefoot situation—and he’d hugged my head and said very earnestly, “No, thank you.”
I must have been a sucker because I didn’t insist on him not riding my shoulders. But I did grit my teeth when he pinched my right ear too tight. “No, I’m not mad at anyone.” Maybe I was a little, but I wouldn’t say it out loud to him after we’d all just gotten done practically wailing until I’d forced myself to be an adult and calm them down enough to figure out our next step. “I was just scared someone was going to get hurt.”