Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
26
TAKE THE STING OUT (ARCHER)
“Winnie, stay with me. I love you.”
Those words sear my throat like a prayer to a God who won’t listen. I know what it feels like now when a man throws himself down, begging for divine intervention, everything hanging by a thread.
And all I can give her right now is the truth.
Truth and a smile.
Even when she’s worn ragged in this terrifyingly fragile state, she still tastes like honey. Hard to believe, but she settles against my chest like she’s content to stay there forever, a small smile on her face.
Seeing her like this with her hair matted, scratches and bug bites all over her arms, her face too pale and still somehow flushed, it’s enough to turn my insides liquid.
I fucking found her.
If it wasn’t for those bees making noises that could rival a jet engine, I might have lost her for good. I searched for hours, tracking deeper into the woods, far off the trail, using an old historic map on my phone from the days when a company came out here clearing trees and looking for coal to mine.
The paths are long overgrown, but barely traceable in some areas if you stop and look.
When I heard that racket, I followed, mostly out of curiosity.
Now, I press her face against my shoulder, loving when she sighs.
“You… you smell like Archer.” She slurs her words.
“I am Archer, Sugarbee. I’m here,” I tell her, but either she doesn’t hear or she doesn’t process.
She just lets out another long, slow, chest-heaving sigh.
“I miss Archer.”
“I missed you too,” I whisper, knowing she won’t hear it.
I don’t care.
There’ll be plenty of time later to laugh about how out of it she is, after we’ve escaped this damn forest.
At least I’ve got the extra gear, courtesy of her old man bringing in the best police search and rescue resources in the whole state.
I hate to admit it’s made this hunt easier.
Yes, Carroll Emberly is still a first-rate fucknut for helping cause this disaster, but he’s also man enough to own his mistakes. Possibly just in time to save his daughter’s life.
“Winnie?” I say when her eyes close, shaking her gently. I’m no doctor, but I can tell she’s gravely ill, and you can’t let people this sick fade before they get medical care. “Stay with me, woman. Don’t sleep yet.”
She stirs, nestling closer, but at least she’s still conscious.
Still breathing.
I try to stop myself from imagining what might have happened if I hadn’t gotten here in time.
I’m doing a terrible job of it.
The only thing I can picture when I close my eyes is what would’ve happened if we’d lost her for another night.
She’s fucking burning up. Her skin feels like clothes just out of the washer, clammy and hot.
“Stay with me,” I urge, climbing over a large fallen branch as I head back the way I came. At some point, I’ll have to shift her onto my back.
I’m about a mile out from the nearest group and real help, but I like having her here, cradled against my chest.
I guess it appeals to my insane inner caveman, the lunatic who needs to hold her, to feel her, to have her warm sweet breath against my neck so I can know she’s alive.
I’m not her knight in shining armor.
I’m one more culprit who drove her away, and now I’m racing against time to save her, to put her back together so I can apologize and tell her she’s everything.
She is my gravity.
And even if she decides she can’t be, if I’ve hurt her too much… she still needs to hear it when she’s lucid.
I need one chance—just one—to tell Winnie Emberly she’s turned me into a madman.
Forever obsessed.
Forever lovesick to my soul.
Goddamn.
I’m just glad I noticed that boot print before I turned off toward the distant buzzing.
When I radioed my findings back to the command center, the sheriff in charge told me it looked old, stamped into the ground for days.
Thank God I followed my instincts instead.
Winnie stirs again.
Her auburn hair hangs damp with sweat.
“Am I dead?” she asks.
“No,” I tell her as gently as possible. “You’re in heaven.”
“H-heaven? This feels like a dream.”
“You’re awake, sweetheart. You’re alive and well.” I risk a look at her to see she’s gazing up at me, her eyes unfocused. She sees me, yes, but she’s not registering that I’m really here holding her.
She reaches up to trace my jaw under my beard, the palms of her hands burning.
“You’re so handsome,” she whispers. “Why lie to me? You… you can’t be here.”
“No lie,” I tell her again, but it’s no use.
She’s trapped inside her fever and whatever hallucinations started before I swept her up.
Hot tears are swimming in her eyes.
I want to wipe every single one of them away.
Her voice cracks as she speaks.
“I… I love you, Archer. If I got to spend the rest of my life with you, if I could marry you, if I wasn’t dying… I would. I’m sorry,” she whispers.