Page 14 of The "I Do" Do-Over

Or, some distant part of me offers, she’s saying what she really feels — a truth that she’s hidden from years, perhaps even from herself.

I feel like an asshole when hope surges in me — hope forus. For our marriage. For our lives together.

Yeah, I’ve got it bad for Taryn if I’m this desperate.

But even if there is cause for hope for us, first things first. I’ve got to get her to medical help. And since there’s no one around, there’s nothing for it — I’m going to have to move her.

“Where does it hurt?” I ask, smoothing her bloody tendrils of hair back from her face.

Without opening her eyes, she snorts as if I’ve said something funny, then winces hard. “Everywhere.”

Shit. That’s not good.

“Can you move your legs and arms?” I ask.

Taryn scrunches up her face but otherwise stays still. Sour fear pools in my belly.

But then, a long moment later, she shifts her limbs like a half-hearted attempt at making a snow angel.

“Good,” I say, the relief in my voice thick even to my own ears. “That’s really good, love.”

Love. I don’t mean to call her that. But it slips out anyway, so damn natural.

Her eyes flash wide. “You mean that, don’t you? That I’m your love.”

I shake my head. This isn’t the time or place to talk about how deep my feelings for this woman go. “We’ve got to get you back to the ski lodge. Is it okay if I lift you onto the snowmobile?”

Ignoring my words, she seizes a fistful of my jacket. “I was so scared to lose you all those years ago, certain I’d ruined everything in Las Vegas. But then, like a fool, I pushed you away.” Her eyes flood with tears. “I’m so sorry, Boone.”

I start to scoop her into my arms. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I haveeverythingto apologize for.” Her words are ferocious. “And so much time to make up for . . . if it’s not too late.”

I freeze, staring at Taryn. Is this really happening? Or is it only a potential head injury talking?

God, I want her words to be real.

But I’m not taking any chances. I won’t risk my heart further. I’ve got to act as if Taryn doesn’t know what she’s saying.

Just in case she doesn’t.

Still, I can’t help but whisper a reply as I lift Taryn, her arms circling my neck and her head falling to my shoulder, so full of trust my heart could burst. “It’s never too late.”

I straddle the snowmobile, balancing her body between my torso and the handgrips. As I start the engine, I cast a glance down at my passenger. Her eyes are closed again, and although she’s holding onto me, I’m not sure how awake she is.

Securing her with one arm, I’m left to steer with my lone free one, hoping I can get us back to the lodge in one piece.

Taryn

There is the cold and the silent forest, my skis cutting through the snow so satisfyingly.

Then there is the sluff, an earthquake of snow, slowly but surely seizing control of my body, carrying me down the mountainside.

A crack of pain.

Darkness.

Then, a voice. One that fills me with honeyed happiness even though it coaxes me back to waking and back to the pain that the darkness drowned.

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