Page 19 of Sustain

Hands

Mackenzie

I’m speeding down the slope again, icy wind biting my cheeks. My skis slice through glittering powder, legs burning as I push my limits. I feel powerful, invincible.

Until the ground disappears beneath me.

My stomach lurches as I sail off the cliff’s edge, suspended hauntingly in the air. Desperately I twitch in my sleep, trying to turn my phantom skis back to solid ground.

But gravity takes over. The earth rushes up in a blur of white and red. I start to slide and can’t stop. I’m going to slide off the earth. Blinding pain splinters through my leg as it smashes against unforgiving metal.

I jolt awake with a scream trapped in my throat; sheets tangled around me. Cold sweat chills my skin. Within the dark cocoon of blankets, I can’t stifle a sob, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“Just a nightmare,” I repeat it like a mantra, clutching my throbbing leg. But the dark room echoing my ragged breaths is strange. I don’t know this room. I feel so lost, wounded, alone.

My heart threatens to pound out of my chest. I’ve never felt so shaken, so unable to pull myself back together.

The door to the bedroom flies open, and light from the hallway pours in. I squint as Ian’s silhouette rushes toward me.

“Mackenzie, what is it? What’s wrong?” The worry in his voice only seems to intensify everything wrong with me.

My mind replays the accident over and over, and my leg is as painful as it was when it happened.

“I just...I don’t know,” I say, and it comes out as a squeak. “It was a bad dream.”

He’s at my side in an instant, arms wrapping around me and pulling me to him. I don’t fight him, and allow myself to feel safe as I bury my face into his chest. I can’t seem to catch my breath.

“I’ve got you. It was just a nightmare. Hush,” he soothes, rocking me and smoothing my hair. “It’s alright. You’re safe now. You’re safe here.”

As I wake up more, the pain in my leg seems to lessen, and the embarrassment of the situation starts to dawn on me. I’m acting like a child; crying over a bad dream. This is really above and beyond dramatic. Ian’s going to think I’m a fool.

That’s when I notice that he’s not wearing a shirt, and I’ve been blubbering into his bare chest. His well-toned bare chest. That smells amazing.

Shit.

I pull away abruptly and wipe unceremoniously at my watery eyes, sniffling. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m fine now. Thanks. Sorry.”

He’s still holding my shoulders, but now at arm’s length. I can feel him studying me in the golden sliver of light from the hall and I want nothing more than to crawl under this bed and hide. I feel like a complete idiot.

“It’s quite alright.” He hesitates, and I can feel his body tense slightly as he tries to piece together what to do with a hysterical woman in his bed. “Are you sure you’re okay? What about your leg? You were holding it when I first came in. Is it hurting?”

He actually sounds like he doesn’t think I’m crazy or being overly dramatic. He’s genuinely concerned. It surprises me, but also makes me consider his question.

It only takes a split second to realize that, yes, my leg is really hurting. I nod. “Yeah. I must have moved around too much in my sleep.”

“Or, the pain could be why you had the nightmare in the first place.”

“Chicken. Egg. Either way, it’s scrambled,” I say, not caring which came first, or what caused what. I just hurt.

“Right. Let me get one of your pain pills,” he says, and before I can protest, he’s gone and back with a pain pill and a glass of water.

I take both from him, my hands only shaking slightly. I still feel like a little kid for some reason, needing to be tended to like this. Staring at the pill for a second, I debate not taking it, but the pain wins out, and I down it before I can think too hard about it.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” He asks, cautious.

“More personal than the ones from earlier?” I can feel myself blush, and move to set the water on the bedside table to hide my face in the low light.

He lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “It’s not a sexual question.”

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