Page 12 of Searching Blind

“But how do you…”

“Navigate? I got real comfortable not knowing where I am.” He felt Lucy’s stare on him like an electric current down his spine, but kept all of his attention on Maya. He was afraid if she stopped talking, they’d lose her. “And I have Zelda.”

At the sound of her name, his dog inched closer, her nose nuzzling under his and Maya’s clasped hands. Her tail thunked against the tree.

“She’s sweet,” Maya said and released his hand to pet the dog.

“Yep, the sweetest. She’s my best girl.” Again he felt Lucy’s eyes on him, that quick sizzle of electricity across the back of his neck, and wondered what she was thinking.

Then movement caught his gaze, rocks coalescing and taking form before his eyes as they rolled by.

Oh, fuck. Another landslide?

But then he heard voices and looked toward the sound. He watched as the hikers moved down the hill one by one, the rocks dislodged by their sloppy footsteps. Bea Carter looked about like he imagined her—big, burly, with tattoos and spiky hair. Theodore Carter was a small, thin man with glasses—a seemingly strange match for Bea, but sometimes love was ever blinder than him. Chuck Grassley also looked exactly like he sounded—balding, beefy, more fat than muscle, a jock aged past his prime. The blue tarp of the makeshift stretcher hung between Bea and Chuck, but Sawyer couldn’t see Joel nestled inside.

Then, as each member of the group reached the downed tree and stopped moving, they disappeared from his view again.

Sawyer squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was always disorientating when he saw so clearly one minute, and the next, everything dissolved back into vague shapes, colors, and shadows.

“You okay?” Lucy asked at his side.

“Yeah. Just… a headache.” It was the truth and seemed an easier explanation to give rather than trying to explain the faulty connection between his eyes and his brain.

Lucy’s voice softened. “I’ll get you some more painkillers...”

“No.” He shook his head a little too quickly, which didn’t help the throbbing. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Sawyer. You have a concussion. Under normal circumstances, you’d be resting in a hospital.”

“These aren’t normal circumstances.”

“I’m aware. But you won’t do anyone any good if you collapse.”

“I won’t collapse.” At least, he was about eighty percent sure he wouldn’t. Okay, maybe sixty-five percent. “Let’s focus on getting Maya free.”

Lucy grumbled something under her breath that sounded like “stubborn ass,” then moved past him, her wildflower scent somehow not dimmed by sweat and grime. The scent lingered in his nose, and desire swirled through his stomach, goosebumps prickling his skin.

Dammit. Now was not the time or the place for his body to betray him like this. But his brain seemed unable to override the primal response, however misplaced it was.

“You like her,” Maya said, a smile in her weakening voice.

He took a deep breath, reining in his unruly thoughts, and refocused his attention on the injured woman. “That obvious?”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t play poker.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, well, I’ve always been more of a chess player.”

“Hey! Everybody, listen up!” Lucy’s voice rang out, clear and commanding. “If you followed my packing list, you should have all brought a collapsible shovel. We need to brace the tree, then we’ll dig under Maya until we can pull her out. Hey, Maya?” she added softly, and knelt next to the trapped woman again. “I’m gonna give you something for pain, okay? It might make you feel a little sleepy, but that’s all right.”

While Lucy tended to Maya, Sawyer straightened and reached out to his dog. He ran a hand over her soft head, taking comfort from her steady presence. She whined and licked at his fingers before pressing up against his leg. He pulled his own shovel off his backpack.

Lucy was suddenly at his side again, her hand wrapping around his wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Helping.” His tone was sharper than he’d intended, his arm muscles tensing under Lucy’s grip. He was resourceful, independent—he didn’t need anyone to remind him of his limitations. And he especially didn’t want to hear it from a woman he was attracted to.

“You’re hurt.”

“I can still shovel.”

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