Page 61 of Searching Blind

His brow wrinkled, but he didn’t open his eyes. “What are you counting as the first?”

“When you pulled me out of that cave.”

He frowned fiercely. “So far, our dates suck. I need to take you on a real date. Something that doesn’t involve near-death experiences or hypothermia.”

She grabbed the emergency blanket from her pack and shook off the water. Thankfully, it was still sealed, so the blanket itself should still be dry. “Oh yeah? So what does a real date with Sawyer Murphy entail?”

She sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Opening the blanket with a crinkle of mylar, she draped it over both of them, cocooning them in silver. She wrapped an arm around Sawyer’s waist, careful to avoid his bruises, and guided his head down to her shoulder. He came willingly, melting into her with a sigh. His arm snaked around her back, palm splaying across her hip. Skin to skin. The heat of him seeped into her, thawing her from the inside out.

“Well, first, I’ll pick you up on my motorcycle.” His voice was a low rumble, his breath warm against her collarbone. “We’d take the scenic route along the coast. Stop at a secluded cove I know. Spread out a blanket, pop open some wine, feed each other fancy cheese, and discuss the meaning of life while the sun sets over the ocean.”

She let out a soft snort. “You have a motorcycle?”

“No, but I will for our date.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She could indulge in this fantasy for a few moments. “Okay. Then what?”

His thumb traced idle patterns on the bare skin of her hip as he considered. “Then, once the stars come out, I’ll build us a bonfire on the beach.”

She hummed, the sound vibrating through her chest. “I do love a bonfire.”

“I’ll grab a guitar and serenade you with off-key renditions of every love song I know until you can’t take it anymore and kiss me just to shut me up.”

A laugh bubbled out of her. “You play guitar too, huh?”

“Not even a little bit.” His lips curved against her shoulder before he placed a soft kiss there.

She huffed out another laugh. How did he do that? Even cold, wet, and injured, he could still make her laugh, could make her believe—if only for a moment—that everything would be okay.

“Sounds like a pretty epic date. Might be worth sticking around to see if you can make it happen.”

He lifted his head from her shoulder. “Yeah?”

There was a vulnerability in that single word that squeezed her heart. He was always so confident, so self-assured. It was easy to forget that he had his own doubts and insecurities. That maybe he needed reassurance just as much as she did.

Cupping his stubbled jaw in her palm, she leaned in and brushed her lips softly over his. “Yeah. I’m willing to see where this thing between us goes.”

He let out a shuddering breath and rested his head against hers. “Good. That’s good.”

They sat like that for a long while, huddled together, listening to the forest sounds filtering in from outside their little shelter—the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, the skittering of small creatures in the underbrush. Gradually, Sawyer’s shivering eased, and his breathing deepened. His body grew heavier against hers.

“Sawyer?” she whispered, but he didn’t respond. He was out, his face relaxed in sleep, the lines of pain around his eyes and mouth eased. She didn’t have the heart to wake him. She suspected he hadn’t slept last night when she did, instead staying awake, listening for signs of danger, protecting her. He needed the rest.

Carefully, so as not to jostle him, she eased him down until his head rested in her lap. He murmured something unintelligible but didn’t wake.

Zelda repositioned as well, curling up tighter against Sawyer’s side, her head on his hip. Lucy absently stroked the dog’s soft ears as she studied Sawyer’s face in the filtered daylight seeping in through the cracks in the lean-to roof. Even in sleep, a furrow remained between his brows, as if he couldn’t fully relax. Not that she blamed him. It wasn’t exactly a restful situation.

Her gaze traced over the hard planes and angles of his face, committing every detail to memory. The faint scar on his chin. The golden stubble shadowing his jaw. The surprisingly long lashes fanning over his cheekbones. He looked younger in sleep. More vulnerable. Her heart squeezed with a fierce protectiveness.

He was so strong, always pushing forward no matter how much he was hurting, no matter how bleak things seemed. But everyone had their breaking point. Even Sawyer Murphy. And she couldn’t help but wonder how close he was to his.

She leaned her head back against the rough wall, blinking against the stinging in her eyes. Exhaustion pulled at her, but she resisted the siren call of sleep. One of them needed to keep watch. She wouldn’t let them be taken by surprise again. But it was hard to stay alert when her body felt leaden. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she let herself drift, not quite asleep but not fully awake either. Time stretched and warped in the warm cocoon of the emergency blanket, Sawyer’s steady breathing and the distant birdsong lulling her into a doze.

She floated in that hazy place between dreaming and waking, her thoughts wandering aimlessly. Snippets of memories and anxieties churned together—flashes of the river, the echo of a gunshot, Sawyer’s broken body in her arms…

chapter

twenty-one

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