Page 37 of That Stranded Feeling
“What the hell are you doing here?” It’s a half-hearted snap, like she wants to be furious with me but also doesn’t think I’m worth the effort that fury would take.
“I came to help. Please let me help.”
She rolls her eyes and stomps to the side of me. “I don’t need help. From anyone. Ever. Least of all the person who lost my dog.”
“And I brought you this.” I hold out her hat. “You must be freezing.”
She snatches it out of my hand. “Not as freezing as Elsa. Wherever the hell she is.”
She rams the hat on her head, blond curls sticking out haphazardly beneath it.
Overwhelmed by the need to comfort her, I reach out to touch her arm. “I’m so sorry, Summer. Let’s look together. Please.”
She snatches her arm away and stares me hard in the eyes. “Go back to working on your deal.” Tears roll down her cheeks. “That’s the only important thing, right?”
A sob catches in her throat and she gasps for air.
The sound tears at me, like the twist of a knife in my gut. I’ve caused this. This pain she’s consumed by is because of me, my stupidity, my thoughtlessness, me being wrapped up in my business worries.
I take a firm hold of her shoulders. I can’t let her think I’m a complete shit who would sleep with her, then lose her dog and abandon her to look for it herself.
“If I thought work was the most important thing, I wouldn’t be out here.”
She breaks into wracking sobs.
“I can’t bear to see you like this, Summer. And it’s all my fault.”
I pull her toward me, desperate to ease her hurt, but she balls her hands and slams the sides of her fists into my chest.
“Yes. You did this.” Her frozen lips struggle to move, but she manages to shout between her uneven snatches of breath.
“Look.” She pushes me off, frees herself from my grip, and does a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn, arms outstretched.
“Look at it. Look at it out here. She could be anywhere.” The words squeak out of her, as tears stream down her panic-stricken face. “She’s lost. She could be lying somewhere freezing to death.”
Her strained voice is the most heartbreaking sound I’ve ever heard.
There’s nothing I’ve done in my entire life that’s made me feel as angry and disappointed with myself as I do right now.
“She can’t evenhearme.” Summer presses her hands against her chest and leans into them. “She’ll think I’m not looking for her.”
I wish I could turn the clock back to this morning and make sure Elsa stayed inside. I wish I wasn’t the cause of the heartache etched on Summer’s face.
“I’m so sorry. I honestly thought it was okay. I’m so sorry I got it wrong.” I reach for her again. “But I’ll fix it. I’ll find her.”
She slams her fists into her thighs. “I might never see her again.”
Christ, that had better not be the case. I can’t let that be the case.
I make one last effort to pull her close and, thank God, this time she goes limp, finally surrendering to me.
“I love her so much,” she sobs. “She’s my everything. She’s all I have.”
Summer’s already lost her parents to the snow. I can’t let her lose her beloved dog to it too.
I bury my face in her woolly hat. If only I could soak up all her pain like a sponge and bear it for her. She deserves so much more than to hurt like this.
“And you are going to get her back,” I say, as if me willing it to be true will make it so.
