Page 77 of Following Their Heart

“Must’ve hit hard,” I say. “That tree’s no joke.” The trunk is thick as a VW bug, and the impact from the chopper clearly busted it. Then the tree returned the favor, falling on the chopper and busting out all the glass in the process.

Rev circles the chopper, trying to get a good look inside, but the tree and the caved-in roof make it a challenge to see anything. “Can you move the tree so we can get in there for a closer look?”

“No problem.” I motion him out of the way and crouch with my shoulder under the fallen tree.

“Want a hand?” Rev asks.

“Nah.” With a groan, I heave the tree up, using the place where it meets its trunk as a hinge. My blood pumps and my muscles sing as I walk my hands along the trunk, angling it higher and higher, closer to its natural position. Finally, it’s high enough that with a hard shove, I fling it over the top of the chopper. It crashes to the forest floor on the far side, and the ground shakes.

“Never get tired of watching that Gift in action,” Rev says. Unless I’m imagining it, I hear something new in his tone, something suggestive. “Would have taken five men and a winch to move that thing and you did it single-handed in a few seconds.”

Outwardly, I shrug off the compliment, but on the inside, I’ve got more of those happy shivers going on.

“Wonder what you might be able to do with that Gift if you really tried,” he says.

I snort. “What? I wasn’t trying just now?”

Rev pokes out his lower lip. “Nah. That tree was a piece of cake for you.”

“Says the guy who didn’t lift a finger to help.” I can feel myself smiling at him. Joking with him. Maybe even flirting.

Rev grins back. He starts circling the chopper again, but his attention is split between the wreck and me. “Remember, we’re supposed to be testing our Gifts today, growing them.” He cranes his neck to look through the twisted frame of the door. “Bet you’re not even tired after moving that thing.”

“You’d win that bet.” It’s not bragging. It’s just a fact. I could move twenty trees like that before breaking a sweat.

Rev motions me closer and points inside. “There’s the one coming out the windshield. And I see two others. There. And there.”

With the rails snapped off, the body of the bird is on the forest floor. I have to bend low to follow Rev’s pointing. The opening that used to be a rectangular door is now more like a twisted bowtie with a constriction in the center. Squinting through the upper part of the opening, I count the two blackened corpses. They’re still strapped in. So is the one who came through the windshield. The seat came through the glass with him, obviously getting dislodged from its moorings in the crash.

“But I can’t see in the back,” Rev says. “There could be a fourth or even a fifth in there.” He glances at me. “How ’bout you straighten out this framework so we can get a better look?”

“All right. Stand back.”

I move in and anchor my hands on the inner edges of the bowtie-door. Elbows out, I start to pry the opening wider. The metal groans, and flakes of charred paint sprinkle to the ground. I’ve widened the hole by a few inches when a sharp pain in my right palm makes me stop.

“Shit.” I pull my hands away, and there’s a puncture in my right glove. And in my palm. The twisted metal must have a razor-sharp edge, and it bit into me when I put my back into it.

I pull off the glove with my teeth to inspect the wound.

Rev says, “What happened?” He’s bending over my hand, taking a look.

“It’s fine.” It’s deep and bleeding a ton, but Doc’ll fix it up when we get back. I go to shove my hand back in my glove, but Rev stops me.

“Hold tight. We need to wrap it.” He digs a first-aid kit out of his pack. “If you pass out from blood loss,” he says, wrapping my hand in gauze, “I’ll have to drag your huge ass outta here, and I won’t have a Gift of strength to help me.”

When he’s done, he packs away the first aid kit and appraises the chopper with thumbs hooked in his belt. “Well, that didn’t work.”

“I can do it,” I say. “I’ll just watch where I’m gripping. Be more careful.”

“Or,” Rev says. “You could try widening that opening without touching it.”

I stare at him.

He stares back.

I huff a laugh, because he must be joking.

He raises a brow, not cracking a smile. He’s serious.

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