Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Listening to this sweetheart rant in defense of the man who’d just left him cold and injured on the muddy ground was one of the reasons I couldn’t help but love him.
Wolfe Marian had a huge heart. Just like his fathers. Just like the man I’d met all those years ago in the bar who’d worried more for the broke-ass barback than the fact that he’d almost had his throat cut. Just like that man’s husband, who would give anyone the shirt off his back if it would keep them warm.
But knowing how Jake had tried to use Wolfe’s kindness against him was infuriating. Resentment slithered over me with every raindrop that snuck under my jacket, cold and slimy on already chilled skin.
“How much money did the Bluebell Foundation give away last year to help people in need?” I gritted out as I turned us back onto the trail and prayed for patience. By my estimation, we had two miles left to go. At this rate, we’d be on the trail for another couple of hours.
“That’s not the same as being born with privilege, and you know it.”
“Maybe not. But I’m not exactly in the mood to feel sorry for Jake fucking Mason.”
“Neither am I.” Wolfe let out a sound that I mistook for a sob.
“I’m sorry, baby—” I began before realizing it had been a snort. A snort of laughter. “Wolfe, what the fuck?”
He laughed until we had to stop so he could double over. “Oh my god, I can’t believe that actually happened. He left me up there on the fucking mountain. And all I could think was that I was like the damsel in distress in a cheesy thriller movie, waiting for a rescue—”
“Except that you saved yourself,” I pointed out.
Wolfe stopped and looked at me for a long moment. Then his whole face softened. “You always fucking know what to say, Trace Bishop.”
I stared at him. I didn’t think that was true, but I was glad he did.
“I was thinking about you,” he added conversationally as we moved down the trail again, picking up a little speed. “The whole time Jake was ranting. When I was terrified coming down the mountain. I pictured your face. Heard your voice in my head, reminding me of all the survival stuff you’ve taught me over the years and telling me to keep going.”
My heart squeezed, hand tightening around him involuntarily. “Baby—”
“If I saved myself, you made it possible.” His eyes met mine. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Trace. You know? I need you.”
The soft words washed over me. I knew what it meant for him to say that, given how worried he’d been about seeming less than capable.
I opened my mouth to confess just how much I needed him, too, when the shadows moved on the trail ahead of us and I heard a shout.
“Trace Bishop! That you?”
Wolfe jerked in surprise and accidentally set his bad foot down, wincing when pain flared up. I cursed and leaned into him, lifting his bad leg up from under his knee with my free hand.
“Yeah! Up here,” I called.
Clay’s headlamp bounced toward us, and when I finally saw the familiar bearded grin beneath it, I let out a breath of relief.
“Hey, thanks for coming,” I said, offering him a smile instead of a handshake.
“Figured you might need some extra hands when your text mentioned the bad ankle. This our subject?” He gave Wolfe a little wave and introduced himself before pulling a couple of microfiber towels from his backpack. “Dry off as best you can while I pop some hot packs for your pockets. Suspected ankle sprain and some exposure to the unfriendly elements. Anything else?”
Wolfe hesitated and darted a glance at me. “Uh. Not really? A little headache, and I’m thirsty.”
“No problem,” Clay said. “I also have acetaminophen for pain and extra water bottles.”
Wolfe took a deep breath and seemed to come to a decision. “Would it be dangerous to take the medicine if I was… drugged?”
The temperature on the mountain went up by several degrees as the resentment that had been kindling inside me burst into a towering rage. “He fucking— Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”
Wolfe clutched the back of my jacket tight in one hand. His other hand clamped over mine where I held his hip. He was, I realized, grounding me in place, in case I decided to run off and commit a quick execution.
Which explained why he hadn’t mentioned this before now.
I inhaled sharply through my nose and tried to keep it together. Wolfe had fucking crawled to get to me. I could control myself for his sake.
For now.
“I think he drugged the water bottle he gave me at lunch,” Wolfe explained to Clay, his voice hoarse but controlled. “I don’t know what drug it was. He said it would make me loopy, but he was talking like he still expected me to be able to make it down the trail under my own power. And he seemed pretty shocked when it hit me as hard as it did. I, ah… passed out shortly after. Maybe early afternoon? Next thing I knew, I was waking up tied to a tree, and it was almost dusk—”