Page 139 of Roughing It

But then, there’s a softblubunder my thumb. Then another. “Thank fuck.” I press a kiss to his temple. “I was going to be so mad at you if you left me here.” Brushing dark hair out of his eyes, I whisper, “Dying is no way to win a fight, you asshole.”

When he doesn’t answer, I crawl into the trunk space, sitting with my suitcases. I take a moment to scream and cry. I rage at the universe, the cosmos, the ether, a variety of deities. Myself. Hudson. No one is spared during my tirade.

And then I get to work.

I check Hudson’s pulse again—more for myself than anything else. Feeling the steady thump calms my own thready heart. Bracing myself between our seats, I dig in the glove box and thank the stars Hudson is who he is. The emergency kit hidden away helps move the task ofmegetting Hudson out of the Jeep and somewhere safe from outright impossible to merely implausible.

Choking back the urge to curl up next to my Bear and cry—again—I steel my nerves. Carefully, I pop the passenger door open, relieved when it stays, rather than swinging back and bashing me in the head. With our exit point ready, I take three deep breaths.

Closing my eyes, I release Hudson’s seat belt latch. The only positive about the Jeep lying on his side is that he doesn’t shift. Stabilizing myself as best I can, I slide my arms under his and maneuver him out from behind the wheel.

“Fucking hell, Hudson, you weigh a ton,” I grunt as I try and fail to move him. Another handful of futile tugs and the dread I’m battling morphs into full-blown panic.

Why did this happen? I can’t leave him here alone. Not when he’s not awake. But I’m not strong enough to rescue us. Hudson is the strong one. Physically. Emotionally.

He’s the one who has the skills to get us home safely. The one who always knows what to do.

The one who wanted to talk things out and begged me to stay.

I’m the screw-up. The one no one sees or wants, who has to hide who I am for people to like me. The one too scared to stay when it’s all I want. A useless mess.

My mother’s alcohol and time-ravaged face flashes in my mind. Her sneer. Her taunts. Ignoring me unless she can embarrass me or belittle me. Her attempts to weasel and con her way back into the new life I made for myself.

All my failures.

I can’t navigate. I can’t tie a knot. I can’t take care of myself. How the hell am I supposed to save us?

Hudson stirs and lets out a soft moan. The quiet noise stops the runaway mine train of intrusive thoughts in their tracks. It’s the first sound he’s made since screaming my name while the Jeep crumpled around us. The pain lacing through that single sound has me fighting off a matching sob.

I have to be strong. For him. For myself. Be the Blakely, the Blake Lee, he sees and loves. Because he does. Love me. See me.

Throwing my shoulders back and lifting my chin—in the best approximation of a power pose I can do while squatting in a tipped-over Jeep—I manifest safety. Success.

Delulu is the solulu, right?

“I’m Blakely Bradshaw. I’m not a spoiled princess. I’m a self-made one. And that means I can do hard things. Hudson believes it, and it’s time I stop letting him down.” My pep talk gives me a boost, and in somemother-lifting-a-car-off-her-kidmoment, I haul his hefty ass out the door. Except I’m me, which means he tumbles out the side and onto the wet earth below.

“Ohmyfuckinggod.”

The fall isn’t far, but it doesn’t stop the alarm bells shrieking in my head, reminding me of things like spinal injuries and traumatic brain injury and a thousand other things I’m not remotely equipped to handle. I scramble out the Jeep door with all the grace of a drunk elephant, landing on my knees amongst the slippery pine needles.

Crawling to where he lays, I make him as comfortable as I can. He groans when I straighten his bent leg, but his eyes flutter open. “Blakely.” My name comes out a gruff croak.

“Bear, you scared the shit out of me. If you weren’t hurt, I’d smack you,” I say as I pepper his face with gentle kisses.

“Are you okay?” He slurs his words, and his pupils are giant, but at least he’s awake and talking. Of course, the first thing he’s worried about is me. Not his injuries. Me. Because that’s who Hudson is.

Almost losing him—the possibility of losing him still—chills my heart. My fingers tremble with the need to touch him. To prove to my lizard brain he’s here. I skim my lips over his, a buss of a kiss. “A few bumps and bruises, terrified beyond belief, and relieved you’re awake.” As I speak, flashes of pain twist his handsome features. There’s a large bruise forming on his forehead and his leg… even though I straightened it, it’s not lying right.

His normally golden skin is pale, and sweat beads on his hairline. I don’t know much about shock, but if I was betting, I’d say he’s close to it. But Hudson, being Hudson, raises his hand to cradle my cheek. “Never forgive myself if something happens to you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“My fault.” His lids lower, and his hand drops away.

Shit.

“Hudson, stay awake. Please, Bear, I need you to stay with me.”

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