Page 98 of Her Wild Coast Promise

I rest my hand on Seth’s ribs, feeling for the expansion of his chest. I count slowly to myself. Most people breathe at least six times in a minute, which means once every ten seconds.

…three…four…five…

From outside, I hear shuffling and muffled voices.

Voices means they’re here to help? Or is it a trick?

I close my eyes and focus on my counting…six…seven…eight…

Then I feel it. Barely. A change in pressure against my palm as Seth inhales.

He’s alive.

I start to cry. In the dark, I hold him tight. I tell him I love him. That it’s going to be okay. That I’m here. We’re in this together.

“Fight your way back to me, love,” I say through my tears.

The scuff of feet on dusty ground and shouts from outside the bathtub crowd my ears.

A heavy thud followed by an ear-splitting squeak fills the air. The floor beneath me vibrates. Someone is coming.

“Seth? Cora?” the voices sound very far away, but the tone is eager, and familiar.

“In here!” I cry. Can they even hear me?

The shuffling gets closer. Multiple voices fill the silence, muted but closer. Movement above us. The darkness lifts creeps back as more light gets in.

Everything seems to happen at once. Debris is thrown aside. It’s bright and there are people hovering over us, barking orders. Dust falls on my face and up my nose. Seth is pulled from my grasp. I try to hold on, but I’m stuck in place. Arms reach in around me and I’m lifted. The jagged debris that was once the ceiling comes frighteningly closer. It’s freezing cold and the dust itches my skin and burns my eyes. Blinking, I fight against the people holding me.

“Seth!” I cry out.

“Easy,” a steady, deep voice coos in my ear. It’s Hunter. “Let’s get you both out of here.”

I’m carried on my back down the hall. The sound of broken glass crunching under boots reminds me of the blast and I start to shake.

“Is he okay?” I ask, squinting up at Hunter.

“He’s alive,” Hunter says as we reach what was once Seth’s kitchen. Outside, more cold air. I’m set on a stretcher and carried from the house. The darkness feels thick and oppressive, like I’m back in that bathtub. Where is Seth?

Doors slam and the whine of a siren cuts the night. An ambulance accelerates from the curb. I’m loaded into a second ambulance. It’s so bright I have to scrunch my eyes shut.

A female medic with short graying hair runs me through an assessment, asking me questions, squeezing me here and there, shining a light in my eyes.

“I’m fine!” I insist over the ringing in my ears. “Where’s Seth?”

“In the rig that just left.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

The medic makes a note on a clipboard and slides it into a slot on the wall. “I want you cleared by the E.R. You’re lucky to be alive after that propane tank blew.”

That she hasn’t answered my question about Seth makes me panic, but I tell myself he’s in good hands.

“Wait, propane tank?” I ask her as the details of her comment crash in my brain.

“That’s what I was told.” The woman secures the stretcher and me in it with straps across my chest and forehead. I know she’s just doing her job but the straps are tight, bringing on a sense of panic. Now isn’t the time to try to explain my odd terror of being restrained.

“I need Hunter,” I manage, balling my fists.

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