Page 17 of Searching Blind

She willed herself to relax before answering, opening her mouth a couple times to relieve the tension in her jaw. “Yeah,” she lied, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “Just plotting our next move.”

Sawyer’s head tilted in the way it did when he was listening intently, a gesture that made her chest tighten. She wondered if he knew she was lying. Probably. The man may be down a sense, but he was the most perceptive person she’d ever met. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. He’d already said it back on the ridge before they’d heard Maya’s calls for help.

“Lean on me. Let me take some of that weight.”

And now she realized how badly she wanted to, how badly she needed the support.

“Sawyer,” she began, her voice cracking with emotion. “I’m…” She trailed off, unsure how she was going to finish the thought. Scared? Damaged? Madly, deeply in lust with him? All of those things were true, but none of them felt right to voice. Instead, she opted for a simple honesty. “I’m tired.”

“I know.” His hand found hers, his fingers lacing through hers in a warm, firm grip. A simple gesture, but it held the power of an embrace and the promise of comfort she so desperately needed.

It was strange how much she craved the sound of his voice, taking comfort in its steadiness. How the touch of his hand acted as an anchor, grounding her in reality, keeping her from getting lost in her own dark thoughts.

It was okay to falter, she reminded herself. A part of healing was admitting that you’re hurt in the first place.

As they neared the camp and she spotted the others huddled together, their faces pale and drawn, Lucy released his hand and locked all of her vulnerability away again. “How’s Maya?”

Bea straightened. “Unconscious,” she reported in her no-nonsense way. She eyed the two of them, and then her gaze dropped to Zelda, and her lips flattened. “What happened?”

“A run-in with a sharp branch,” Sawyer said before she could tell them the truth. She sent him a questioning sideways glance—which, of course, he couldn’t see.

“But she’s okay,” he added with his easy smile back in place as he ruffled Zelda’s ears. “My girl is tough.”

“What did you find out there?” Theodore asked.

“Nothing, but Lucy spotted the tower. We’re close.”

Another lie.

Lying to them didn’t sit well with her, but as she watched a collective sigh of relief move through the group, she understood why he chose to in that moment. They didn’t need more fear and uncertainty right now. They needed reassurance and hope.

“So we’re still going to the tower?” Joel asked, pulling himself up onto his one good leg with the help of the hiking pole Sawyer had loaned him.

She eyed the kid, assessed the group, then did some quick mental calculations. If they were where she thought they were, they could still reach the tower before complete darkness set in. And they’d be safer there than out in the open, and it was the best chance they had of getting a signal out to rescuers.”

Finally, she nodded.

“Yes,” she said firmly, steeling herself. “We’re still going to the tower.”

She felt Sawyer’s approving nod beside her, and she had to squash the urge to lean into his solid presence. Instead, she pushed past it and focused on rallying the group.

“We’re not too far off, and if we move together in a line, we can make it before nightfall. Stick close. Watch each other’s backs.”

A murmur of assent rippled through them, their faces reflecting a mix of determination and wariness. Lucy ignored the leaden weight in her stomach as she glanced around at them.

She moved to Maya, taking hold of one end of the stretcher as Bea moved to the other end. Her hands were shaking ever so slightly as she lifted the injured woman—from fear or anger, she couldn’t tell. Maybe both. It didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that they made it to the tower tonight.

They had to.

chapter

six

The Blue Mountain fire tower sat on the precipice of the mountain that gave it its name, at nearly five thousand feet above sea level. The climb was more arduous than Lucy remembered, and her legs ached from the exertion. She couldn’t imagine how her hikers felt.

Especially poor Joel. He lagged behind, each step obviously agony for him, but he still kept moving. There was a determined set to his jaw that Lucy admired. The kid had grit. Far more than his father gave him credit for. Chuck also lagged, huffing and puffing like a steam engine. His gaze kept flashing toward his son, filled with a mixture of frustration and grudging respect.

They had traded off carrying Maya, but Lucy once again took over his end of the stretcher after he nearly dropped her. The man was a lot of bluster, but no stamina. He had been quick to boast about his athletic past at the beginning of the trip, but it was obvious that those glory days were far behind him.

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