Page 50 of The Kiss Countdown

Sheba is whining and trying to get to me while Brianna struggles to pull her even farther away.

“Well, instead of standing there and looming over me, maybe you should help me up so I don’t look so tempting anymore.”

Armed with a deep scowl, Vincent grabs my outstretched hands and gently pulls me up. I stand and immediately wince as what feels like lightning strikes my right ankle.

“What’s wrong?” Vincent says.

“I think I hurt my ankle when I fell.”

“Can you walk on it?”

“Hold on. I need a minute.” I breathe in and out through my mouth, hoping I’ve just banged myself up on the rock and, with enough time, the shock of pain will ease. But when I try to step again, the blinding ache only intensifies. “Okay, I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk.”

“I’m taking you back to the cabin.” Vincent’s tone brooks no argument.

“Do you need help moving her?” Lance asks.

Vincent doesn’t answer. I’m not sure if he even heard a word Lance said. He seems laser focused on my leg, as if he can see through the pants and straight to my bone.

“Let’s go ahead and turn around,” Mrs. Rogers says. “I don’t want y’all walking all the way back by yourselves.”

Since Vincent isn’t talking, I’m the one to speak up. “Please, don’t let this ruin the hike. You all should stay outhere and keep going.” There’s no use in everyone calling it an early day.

After a bit of back-and-forth, they agree to go on while Vincent and I turn around.

“It’ll be too hard trying to navigate over the rocks on one foot. I need to pick you up,” Vincent warns.

Pick me up? He’d have to carry me for at least twenty minutes. Without dropping me on the rocks. And with the way my body’s been reacting to him, I’m doubly pressed to find my own way back.

As I’m searching for some kind of stick like the one Vincent found yesterday, he presses, saying “Amerie” in a low, thinly controlled voice.

We both know I’m only stalling the inevitable, so I let my shoulders fall in defeat and nod.

Vincent doesn’t waste any time. He scoops me up with one arm behind my back and the other under my knees, and as we begin the trek back, I look over his shoulder and wave bye to the group of concerned faces.

Vincent sticks to flat areas as much as possible, while I hold on to his neck, stiff as a board. I didn’t want to make a scene in front of his family, but everything in me screams to demand he put me down so I can walk.

If he wants to carry my luggage, I’ll overstuff bags until he can barely walk. But my precious life is in his hands, and I don’t trust that he won’t slip and fall.

As we come upon a rough part of the path, packed densely with rocks, Vincent strikes a large one and thrusts forward. I take in a sharp breath when my good foot bumps into the other and it feels like lava is being poured on my ankle. I can’t help it as I turn into Vincent’s chest and will the pain away.

“Sorry,” he says, slowing his pace.

“So you’ve done this often, right?” I need to take my mind off the throbbing. “How many people did you have to carry out when you did Search and Rescue?”

“Carry like this? Not many.” Vincent’s voice is slightly labored, and the muscles of his face are strained. “We were usually strapping people to gurneys and loading them onto a helicopter.”

“So what you’re saying is I get special treatment.”

His features relax minutely. “I guess you could say that.” He trips over another rock, this time holding me steady to his chest, then comes to a complete stop. “I’m sorry, Amerie.”

“For what? You didn’t put all these rocks here.”

“I knew those shoes didn’t have enough traction. If I had waited for everyone, I could’ve made sure you knew the rocks were loose.”

“Then you would have been right by me when I busted my ass rather than ten feet away.”

His lips twitch like he wants to laugh but is obviously holding back. Then all traces of a smile completely disappear and he looks more miserable than before, so I brush my hand along his chin. He didn’t shave again, and I’m kind of digging this grizzled look.

---