Page 48 of Searching Blind

Sawyer laughed, pushing the excited dog away. “We’re okay, girl. We’re okay.”

Beside him, Lucy let out a laugh, one of those raw, full-bodied laughs that comes after surviving something you weren’t certain you’d survive. Despite her physical pain, there was joy in that sound. It was a victory cry of sorts. They’d made it out.

He rolled toward her, found her face with his hands, and crushed his lips to hers. Her lips parted in surprise, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, her fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. He could taste salt on her lips, could smell the scent of earth and sweat on her skin.

It was earth-shattering. It was life-affirming. It was everything he’d been denying himself for the past year.

When the kiss ended, they lay there for a while, foreheads pressed together, just breathing each other in.

“I’m glad you came for me,” Lucy whispered.

“I always will.”

With his hands still cupping her cheeks, he felt the smile curve her lips. “What? No sexual innuendo this time? I left you a perfect opening.”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Harper. I can stop if you want.”

“No,” she murmured. “I think I like this Sawyer, too.”

He tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer against him until there was no space left between them. He could feel every inch of her, the heat of her seeping into him even through their clothes.

“And what about the Sawyer who loves you?” he asked softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

There was a moment of silence as Lucy stilled in his arms. He felt her stiffen and for one heart-stopping moment, he thought he might have pushed too far too soon.

His heart sank. She was going to protest. She’d tell him he couldn’t possibly love her, tell him that it was just the adrenaline talking...

But instead, she let out a shaky breath and relaxed against him again. “I… I don’t know how I feel about him yet,” she admitted hesitantly. “But I think I’m willing to find out.”

Zelda chose that moment to nose between them.

Sawyer sighed, patting the dog’s head. “Zelda,” he said with exaggerated seriousness, “you are the absolute worst third wheel.”

“At least she’s cute,” Lucy said.

“That she is.” He lifted himself to his hands and knees and pulled Lucy up to sit with him. He could feel her wince as she moved, but she didn’t protest. Her fingers were trembling slightly when she brushed them against his cheek, and he thought of the pain she must be in and how bravely she was hiding it. “Let’s find stable ground to make camp and get you properly bandaged up.”

chapter

sixteen

As they moved away from the sinkhole and made camp on a flatter, more solid patch of land, the adrenaline started to wear off and the pain really set in.

Lucy tried to focus on her breathing, on Sawyer’s steady presence beside her, on Zelda, who was scurrying around them like a puppy, sniffing at everything—on anything but the throbbing pain in her back. But it was hard. She was exhausted, physically and mentally, and the pain was relentless. It never stopped, only shifted from a dull, pulsing ache to sharp, stabbing jabs that took her breath away.

Sawyer was a quiet, solid presence beside her, his fingers careful as he unzipped her backpack and pulled out the first aid kit. She could hear the rustle of fabric, the crackle of the wrapper as he pulled out a fresh bandage. He took the time to clean his hands and then squirted sanitizer on them, and she was irrationally torn between gratitude for his gentleness and irritation at his efficiency. A part of her wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop being so calm and competent when she was in pain. But she bit back the words before they could escape. She couldn’t keep taking her bad tempers out on him.

“Okay,” he murmured. “I’m going to need you to lean forward a bit.”

She nodded, grimacing as she shifted her position. If it weren’t for the pain, she might have enjoyed the feel of Sawyer’s hands on her—strong, warm, and reassuring. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the feelings that were simmering inside her. She couldn’t brush them off as mere gratitude or comfort-seeking anymore. Not when every laugh he shared, every touch, every quiet moment between them felt so intensely personal. So right.

Sawyer dabbed an antiseptic pad on the raw skin of her wound, and she hissed at the sting of it. Her thoughts immediately derailed.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered quickly, his hands momentarily still against her back. “I’m trying to be as gentle as I can.”

“I know,” she said through gritted teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as another wave of pain washed over her. “It just... it fucking hurts.”

She felt Sawyer’s chest rise and fall against her back as he sighed quietly. “Just another minute, and I’ll be done torturing you. And… there.” He smoothed a fresh bandage over the wound, then handed her a packet of ibuprofen. “It’s the best I can do, but we should head back at first light so Grant can take a look at it.”

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