Page 203 of Burn the Wild

“Fuck,” Wyatt whispers, collapsing to his knees.

“Don’t go to sleep,” I order when her eyes flutter shut. Panic rises in me. “You hear me? Stay with me. I won’t lose you.”

Wyatt shucks off his overshirt. Using his knife, he cuts the fabric into thin strips of makeshift bandages. With shaky hands, he ties the fabric around Reese’s wrists and the jagged cuts on her arms.

“Thanks,” Reese whispers.

Wyatt swallows, the muscles in his jaw working as he forces a smile. “You got it.” My brother meets my gaze. “Ford,” he says low and serious.

The pity, the fear in his eyes, scares me shitless.

My hold tightens around Reese. “Let’s get you up, Birdie. Get you better.”

Wyatt and I move as one. I gather Reese up, carrying her to the trailhead. Her head hangs limply over my arms. Her face is pale, her lips blue. Each breath she takes is less full than the last. Our boots pound down the trail.

“Reese,” I bark, and slowly, with fight, she opens her eyes. “You fucking hang on, you hear me? No sleeping. Not now.”

She whimpers. “Ford…I—”

“Don’t,” I warn, seeing what she’s about to do. I squeeze Reese to my chest. Like I can give her all the blood in my veins. “Don’t you fucking dare say it.”

“I’m gonna say it,” she whispers.

“You’re a brat,” I growl.

“I—”

“No.”

I grit my teeth and push faster, running now. Lights flicker in the distance. Headlights.

“Country Boy.” Her voice is so quiet, so damn soft. “I love you.”

“Fuck.” Tears stream down my cheeks. My heart breaks. Everything that matters is here in my arms. There’s no me without her.

“I love you,” I husk. “I fuckin’ love you, Birdie Girl.”

But she doesn’t open her eyes.

“Reese?” I shake her, frantic. Her face lolls against my chest.

Then, out of the forest, a roar of an engine.

Davis’s truck crashes through the trees. I almost scream out to the sky.

We’re going to make it in time. We have to.

Voices. From far away. Light years.

Burning on my arm. Fire licking up my veins.

I feel like I’m in a trance, walking a tightrope between light and darkness. But I never get too close to that black hole, because Ford always pulls me back.

“Don’t give up, baby. Not when you’re so close. We’re so close. Wake up.”

I hear his lazy drawl, but there’s a strange desperation in his voice. Full of gut-wrenching pain and anger. I’ve never heard him sound like this.

I ache to reach out, to comfort him, to tell himI’m okay, I’m here, but I’m so tired. My limbs have never been so heavy.

---