Page 82 of All Yours

“That’s what I came here to tell you. But with what you’re going through, I didn’t want to overwhelm you or cause you more anguish.” I swiped a tear off her icy cheek.

Sloane lunged, wrapping her arms around me. I used the opportunity to pull my jacket around her. Snow dusted the surrounding ground, the fire sizzling in response to the flakes. She shook and sobbed against my chest.

“Hey, don’t cry,” I whispered. “We’ll figure it out.”

“You love me,” she choked, tears flowing. Her body trembled in my arms.

“More than anything, but right now, I need you to go inside.” I didn’t know how long it took hypothermia to set in, but she may have been crossing that line.

“The fire,” she said through chattering teeth.

“I got it,” I said. “You go in and get out of those wet clothes and into something warm.”

“Then you’ll join me?”

Chapter Twenty- Seven

Sloane

I went into the house on dazed legs. They worked, but numbness had set in from the waist down. A sign that I should have gone inside sooner. Jonah was in love with me. How did I never see it? I’d written everything off as friendship. He witnessed me light my past on fire and still said that he loved me. And he was out there in the cold, putting out the fire in the pit.

My wet jacket hit the floor with a thud. Jonah was the most selfless human I’d known. He wasn’t here for the fame or the money. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing, and they were hot against my cheeks. Everything was numb or frozen. I pulled off my wet pants, and the skin was wet to the touch. A trail of discarded soggy clothing followed me to the bedroom.

A hot shower would do the trick to warm me up.

“No shower,” Jonah called through the house.

“Why not?” I yelled back, wrapping myself in a bathrobe and finding him at the bedroom door.

“It’s slow, passive warming for mild hypothermia.”

“It’s not hypothermia, yet.” I sat on the edge of the bed.

“Reheating too fast can cause cardiac arrest, and I’m not risking that. Let’s get you some warm tea.”

“You’re still in wet clothes.”

“I don’t have anything else here,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other with his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets.

“You can’t run around in cold, wet clothes. Go throw them in the dryer for a few minutes and wrap up in a blanket.” I yawned as the energy drained.

“Blankets are a good idea,” he said, moving to me and pulling back the covers. “You get in and rest. I’ll go make you some hot tea.”

“I think we need to talk some more,” I said, crawling between the warm covers. There was still so much that I’d left unsaid.

“You’ve been through a lot today,” he said. “Let me go get that tea and make sure you get warmed up.”

“I’m okay,” I said, another yawn forcing its way out. “Just a little tired.”

“Rest,” he said, pulling the covers over me.

I sank back onto the soft pillow and closed my eyes. The next moment, I was alone in the darkened room. A mug of tepid tea sat on the bedside table. How long had I been asleep?

“Jonah?” I called, climbing from the bed. My heart was in my throat. Did he leave? I padded into the living room, which was lit only by the fireplace.

A sound came from the laundry room. I found him in front of the dryer, a towel wrapped around his waist. My gaze following the smattering of dark hair, almost hiding his powerful chest and disappearing into his chiseled torso. Damn, that man was a work of art.

“Hey,” he said, reaching into the dryer, retrieving a pair of pants. “Feeling better? I hope I didn’t wake you. Your dryer has way too many buttons.”

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