Page 24 of Searching Blind

Grant moved toward them, his form taking shape from the white noise of Sawyer’s vision. He looked worried, his brows drawn together, a deep frown on his face. Then he stopped moving and disappeared again.

“This has the potential to go sideways fast,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Chuck is a wild card. Maybe he’s all talk, but I’m not so sure. He’s pissed and scared, and that makes him dangerous.”

“I know,” Lucy replied, and she sounded exhausted.

Sawyer reached out until he found her back and rubbed in soothing circles.

She sighed and leaned into him. “But right now, I’m just concerned with getting us through the night.”

chapter

eight

God.

The mountain was half gone. Lucy gripped the balcony railing and stared out over the ruined landscape. It looked like an angry god had reached down and sheared off the east slope with a sharp blade. Large patches of the land were still scarred from a rampant wildfire two summers ago, and now with this new damage, it looked barren and alien. The national park service was going to have a hell of a time cleaning up this mess.

She exhaled a long breath. She had known the earthquake was bad, but she hadn’t realized the full scope of the damage it had done. She looked toward the valley below and worried about how the towns there had fared.

No wonder they couldn’t reach anyone on the radio.

She turned her gaze to the unscarred wilderness, the vast expanse of trees that stretched out below the tower, dark and foreboding as the light of dawn hadn’t broken over the tops of the mountains yet. The forest was deathly silent, the normal sounds of nature waking up conspicuously absent. A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the cooler temperatures the storms had left in their wake. She shuddered and drew her blanket closer around herself.

A board creaked behind her, but she didn’t jump. She instinctively knew who it was. She always knew, and smiled a little as Zelda nuzzled her neck below her ear.

“Hi, girl,” she murmured and kissed the dog’s cold nose.

Sawyer lowered himself to sit beside her, using the balcony railing to guide him down. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Yeah, me either.” His lips thinned into a hard line as he slid his legs under the railing to dangle over the edge next to hers. “I don’t trust Chuck to watch my six while I’m sleeping.”

“Ethan wouldn’t let him do anything.”

“Ethan wanted to kick us out in a storm last night,” he reminded dryly. “Don’t really trust him, either.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cold metal railing. “Trust is a commodity we’re sorely lacking.”

He bumped her shoulder with his. “I guess we’ll just have to rely on each other.” He laughed softly as Zelda wiggled between them. “And Zelda, of course.”

She liked his laugh. Always had. Despite all he’d been through, and despite their current dire situation, there was a lightness to it that never failed to make her smile.

“Of course.” She ruffled the dog’s furry ears. “Zelda’s the only one making any sense right now.”

“That’s because she’s smarter than most of us humans.”

“I believe it.” She shifted to study him, half assessing, half admiring. Other than tired, he looked okay. If his concussion was troubling him, he didn’t let it show. His profile was in shadows from the pre-dawn gloom. His golden hair, unruly and a bit longer than she remembered, gleamed with the first touch of sunlight. It struck her how beautiful he was, just sitting there wrapped in a blanket, his gaze directed toward the horizon he couldn’t see.

His face was calm, the lines of tension that had been there earlier relaxed. Even though he carried burdens that would have crushed a less resilient man, he seemed almost untouchable in his tranquility, his peace extending outward like a buffer against the chaos around them.

She wanted a little of that peace for herself.

Lucy scooted closer, sliding her arm through his. They fit together easily, as if they were two parts of a puzzle. She rested her head on his shoulder, and let herself wonder, for just a moment, if they would fit together as easily in other, more intimate ways. She hoped someday she could find out.

He leaned his head against hers. “I wish I could see it,” he said softly, drawing her out of her thoughts.

She looked toward the mountain again. “What, the earthquake damage?”

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