Page 90 of Rescuing Dr. Marian
“Got you,” I said, finally seeing his face. There was a laceration on his eyebrow and cheek, the blood mixing with rain to form a pink stream down into his stubbled jaw. His hands seemed to be protected by gloves, but the gloves were definitely trashed.
When he reached the side of the boulder closest to me and realized he was finally on solid ground, he stumbled into me and grabbed me in a filthy, wet hug, burying his cold nose in my neck.
His entire body trembled with adrenaline, but the first words out of his mouth were “Are you hurt?”
I didn’t dare loosen the arms I had tight around him. “No. I was safe and warm until I heard you cry out. I didn’t even realize Chickie was scratching at the door.”
At the reminder of the little hunting shack, I pulled back and yanked Foster toward it. “There’s shelter and a fire. Come on.”
Foster was bruised and filthy, soaking wet and freezing. His radio squawked with increasingly panicked voices, but he didn’t seem to notice. When I got him inside. I began pulling his wet outerwear off, starting with the radio on his jacket.
With my free hand, I thumbed the radio. “Marian to base.Blake and I are safe. Repeat. Tommy Marian and Foster Blake are safe.”
“Thank fuck,” Trace said. “Location status.”
“There was a rockslide on Devil’s Backbone saddle. Current location is hunter’s shack just north of the saddle. Will shelter in place for now. Over.”
There was a pause before he came back over the radio. “We heard about the rockslide. Is it impeding your return? Over.”
Foster seemed to come to clearer awareness. He pulled the radio out of my hand. “Blake to base. There was a second rockslide on the west side of the ridge. The two of us and Chickie are on the other side of it. Will need help with extraction when the storm is over.”
“Copy. Stay tuned while we work up a plan. Probably won’t be until morning if you’re good there.”
I took the radio back and finished up with Trace before setting the radio aside and reaching over to take off Chickie’s rain gear. There were wooden pegs lined up on each side of the door, so I hung up as much of the wet gear as possible to keep it off the floor in the tiny space and away from the old woodstove.
Chickie immediately curled up on the floor in front of the stove and lay down with her head on her paws, like this particular adventure had used up even her boundless energy.
After nudging Foster onto the little wooden cot built into the side of the cabin, I reached into my pack for an emergency blanket and my med kit. “Take off your shirt. It’s wet and covered in blood.”
He looked down at himself in a daze, hands shaking andclothes ruined, before looking up at me with concern on his face. “You okay?”
I squatted in front of him and reached out to push dirty, wet strands of hair off his forehead. “Baby. I’m okay. You’re the one who’s hurt. You’re a med student’s dream for suture practi?—”
“I’m in love with you.”
I stared at him. “I… I think you might have a head injury.”
Foster’s eyes filled with tears, a sight I would have been happy to spend my whole life without seeing. “I’m in love with you, and I can’t fucking stand it.”
“Oh, Jesus.” I lurched forward and kissed him again, holding on to his face carefully to keep the worst of the cuts from being impacted.
Hot tears mixed with blood and cold rain on my cheek and lips. “I would apologize, but I’m not sorry,” I whispered, pulling back until our foreheads were still pressed together. “I’m in love with you, too.”
He shook his head, another tear escaping his eyes as he squeezed them closed. “No, that’s just it. You can’t be. It won’t work. I’ve tried to figure it out, Tommy, and it just won’t fucking work.”
“I need you to shut up about that for right now and let me take care of you. Just set it aside for a little while, okay? Let me play doctor. I promise I’ll fulfill all your fantasies; it just might involve a very long and medically accurate lead-up.”
The edges of his lips quirked up. “Promise it has a happy ending?”
I pressed a kiss to the edge of his lips. “Promise.”
He let me take care of him then, cleaning up the blood onhis face and tending to the lacerations. I added another piece of wood into the stove and mentally thanked whoever had left this little shelter stocked with it last.
“Take off your clothes,” I said, bouncing my eyebrows.
“Aw, yeah. Now we’re talking.” He reached for the hem of his shirt and winced in pain.
“That’s what I thought would happen,” I said, moving closer and pulling up his shirt to reveal red areas of bruising. “You want to tell me how bad it really was?” He’d already tried to tell me he “slipped on some rocks,” but it was clearly more than that from the state of his gear and body.
