Page 63 of Crimson Born

“What happened to you out there Reece? You’ve never told me.”

“And I never will. Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

Reece was so stubborn. Even when we’d spent hours talking at the clinic, he drew the line at talking about those lost weeks in between his human existence and his time at the Bastion.

When would he ever open up to me and return to being that open-hearted, playful guy he’d been at the bonfire? I refused to believe that wonderful person was gone forever.

He picked up his pace again, glaring up at the clouds overhead. “The bottom’s about to drop out. We need to hurry.”

No sooner had the last word left his mouth than the skies opened, and freezing cold rain pelted us. We were still in the foothills, and there was as much rock underfoot as soil and grass. After a minute of torrential rain, it became slippery.

“Watch your step,” Reece warned, shouting to be heard over the wind and the downpour.

I was trying to watch it, but it was impossible to see more than a few inches in front of me. About thirty seconds after his warning, my left foot slid across a wet rock, then both feet flew out from under me.

I went down, sustaining a painful blow to my tailbone.

Reece, who was a few paces ahead of me, stopped and turned around then rushed to my side. He crouched beside me, sliding an arm around my back to help me up.

“You okay?”

I nodded, wincing over my sore backside—and my bruised ego.

“Yeah. I think so. Maybe let me... could we just rest here a minute? I don’t think I can walk yet.”

He looked around. “Sure. But let me get you out of the rain. Come on. Over here.”

Leaning on his supportive arm, I stepped gingerly alongside him. “Where are we going?”

“Just over here. Not too much farther. I think I see somewhere we can get out of the rain.”

25

Better Off Not Knowing

Sure enough, there was a shallow cave in the rocky hillside nearby.

We ducked inside, sitting with our backs against its stony wall because the opening was too low to allow for standing comfortably.

Shivering, I wrapped my arms around my knees and pulled them close, grateful to be out of the deluge.

“It’s really coming down out there,” I said. “My dad used to call this kind of storm a ‘gullywasher.’”

“Mine would say it’s raining ‘pitchforks.’ At least there’s no lightning.”

As if on cue, white electricity branched across the sky. It was followed by a cave-shaking boom.

We looked at each other and laughed.

“Yeah. At least there’s that,” I said and laughed again. The laughter warmed me a bit but not enough. Another hard shiver rocked my body.

“You cold?” Reece slid an arm around my shoulders, cupping one of them in a large hand.

“Aren’t you?” I asked, turning my face to study his. It was close in this position—close enough I could see individual raindrops that had caught on his stubble.

He didn’t return my gaze but stared out at the storm.

“Nah. I’ve got all this tight leather to keep me warm, remember?”

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