Page 75 of Following Their Heart

“So are you!” Doc says.

Most of the birds are overhead now and dispersing to all corners of the forest. Once the screeching dies down and there are no more bird missiles around us, Doc gently pries me from Grim’s arms. He’s staring at my chest, and not in a sexy way.

“Cora,” Grim says. “You’re bleeding.”

“I am?” My chest does hurt. But I’m more concerned about them.

“Take it easy,” Doc says. He guides me toward the woodpile and sits me on the stump Brawn uses to split firewood. “I’m gonna lift off your shirt.”

I let him.

Grim stands guard over us.

“But what about you?” I gingerly touch Doc’s face. Up close, the wounds don’t look as deep as they had before. Oh yeah. He heals fast, thanks to his Gift. In fact, as I watch, the largest of the gashes, bisecting his eyebrow, knits together and shrinks in length.

“Wow,” I say. “Neat Gift.”

He grins. “In more ways than one. Turns out when Grim and I work together, we can raise the dead.”

“That’s incredible!” I say on a happy laugh. All those birds are okay now. Well, except for the few who got hurt in the exodus. “Some of the birds need healing. And Grim.” I reach out to my blood-covered husband, less concerned now that I see him smiling at me.

“I’m fine,” he says, but he’s clearly not. The gashes on his face and hands aren’t knitting together like Doc’s

“But mychérgoes first. Always.” My handsome Cajun explores my wound with a gentle touch.

“I’m fine,” I argue, sounding like Grim, but Doc’s not deterred. He presses his hand flat over the painful spot on my chest, and he closes his eyes.

“Your Gift doesn’t work on me,” I remind him.

“Hush,” he says. “Let the Doctor work.”

I feel no change in my chest.

Doc pulls his hand away, and there’s blood on it. Not a lot, but enough to explain why I’m hurting a little bit.

“Ah, well,” he says. “It was worth a try.”

I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and I look down to see an oozing cut between my breasts. The bird hit me just above the gusset of my bra. Honestly, I’m more aware of the bruising than the cut. That bird must have been really moving when it hit me.

Honestly, I’m relieved Doc’s Gift still doesn’t work on me. If he could heal me with a touch, what would that mean for Grim’s Gift? I couldn’t imagine a life not being able to touch Grim for fear of his Gift killing me.

“It’s for the best,” I say.

Doc follows my gaze to a bloodied and sober-looking Grim, and he nods. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

The three of us move to the kitchen, and Doc cleans and treats my wound the old-fashioned way. Then I get to watch as, with a single thought, Doc heals every one of Grim’s gashes all at once.

“Look, Mom,” he says. “No hands!”

Brawn

The trail up the east faceof the mountain gets us only so far. About three miles from the crash site, Rev and I have to leave our four-wheelers and hoof it. With lunch sitting heavy in my stomach, we hike in silence, and the whole time, I’m remembering that damn kiss.

I mean, we all knew about those two, but seeing them connect in that way—the tenderness of it, the raw sexuality of it—shit. Now I’m hiking with a hardon.

Rev says something. I probably missed it because he’s several paces ahead of me,notbecause I’m mesmerized by the way his tight ass moves in his jeans. I mean, I’m nottryingto look at his ass. It’s just that he’s uphill from me, and it’s right fuckingthere.And with his pack hanging past his belt, the picture is incomplete. My brain keeps trying to fill in the blanks of what I’m missing, like a puzzle I have to solve. What I wouldn’t give to have him hitch that pack a few inches higher!

“What?” I ask, determined to hear him this time.

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