Anchored Page 12

Her lips press together, a look of pain crossing her face. “I hope so,” she whispers. Her free hand grabs the lapel of my coat, pulling me down. She kisses me, her lips cool from the night air.

  “Please, Nick,” she says softly, “I need to talk to you.”

  I nod and pull the ski mask over my face. Skyler fumbles with the clasp of my helmet. I help her fasten the chinstrap, making sure it’s secure. I know the woods like the back of my hand, so we can take a shortcut back.

  I take off into the night as soon as she’s pressed against my back, her arms locked around my waist. Her body quakes, maybe a shiver or something more—I’m not sure. Her emotion is so unsettling. I just know we need to get indoors.

  Over the ledge of the precipice, we glide down the side of the mountain. Gravity takes over and propels the sled faster. The deep ruts of other riders give us brief moments of air as we are launched off the snow. The landings force the sled to wobble, gaining purchase on the snow-packed ground. The moonlight gives the snow an eerie glow, the vision not unlike the old tale of sirens on the ocean. The beauty of the mythical creatures would lure sailors in, only to destroy them. The snowy landscape possesses the same threat. It is both beauty and death.

  I feel Skyler press her body closer, tightening her grip around my waist. The sense of urgency creeps into my bones, replacing life-sustaining marrow with heavy asphalt. I mentally tick though the likely reasons why she left in my head. The possibilities seem endless.

  My heart chugs, and my lungs constrict at the entry of cold night air. My home seems so far away. The deep-gray evening seems stark and heartless. Snow dampens my ski mask and cakes around the edges of my goggles.

  Taking a hard right down the back edge of the tree line framing my property, I steer us into the woods and down an old walking path. It’s not far off the main trail, but it will shave off a few minutes.

  I open the throttle, rocketing us through the woods. The headlight illuminates the narrow path of fresh, smooth snow. In the trees, a herd of deer scatters, the creatures spooked and darting through the barren forest. A buck leaps onto the path and stops, riveted in place by the bright headlight. I jerk the sled to the left to avoid slaughtering one of nature’s beasts and plunge into the forest.

  We plow over young saplings seconds before the headlight catches the girth of a large felled oak.

  I feel Sky’s arms rip away from my body the second we are airborne.

  Chapter 19

  Skyler

  Crushing pain restricts my breath. Needles of cold bite into my skin.

  Wiggle your fingers.

  Good.

  Now your toes.

  I fight the pressure pulling my eyelids closed.

  Where am I?

  You were with Nick. He took you to see the stars.

  We were going back to his home.

  Nick.

  Where is Nick?

  I try to yell, but the taste of copper drips down my throat. My stomach seizes, and I gag on the taste.

  Moving is painful and difficult. Under me, snapped tree branches dig into my back and sides. I hear the odd rattle of an engine. It sounds far away and different from the clear rumble of Nick’s sled.

  Nick.

  I press upward, and my world spins. Somehow I’m able to sit back on my rear end and push the heavy helmet off my head. The cold air stings my nose and eyes, but it clears my head enough to look around. We are off the path—in the woods I watched flying by on our way back to his home.

  A few feet away, I see the depth of the woods illuminated. The snowmobile on its side.

  No Nick.

  I stagger toward the machine and wrench the key from the console. The contents of a compartment under the seat are spilled out over the snow.

  “Nick?” I call into the night. “Nick!” I wince, the volume of my own voice slamming against my skull.

  Digging through the dumped items packed in the seat, I find a flashlight and stumble through the snow.

  Calling his name is useless. There is no reply. My brain throbs, pressing against my eyes and temples. Pressure and pain make my knees wobbly, pitching me forward. When my knees hit the snow, I fight the heaviness driving me to the ground.

  “Nick,” I croak, hoping he’ll respond.

  There’s nothing.

  Snow and silence.

  I sit back on my heels and scan the forest with the flashlight. In the distance, a spray of snow decorates the side of a thick chunk of exposed wood. Something shredded the bark from the tree.

  We hit the tree.

  The dread consumes me.

  I had his helmet. “Nick!”

  Scrambling through the thick snow feels like I’m pushing against a deep current. Nick’s body is a mass of darkness against the brilliant white.

  Thinking through my first aid training fuels my fears. What if I can’t help him? What if he’s dead?

  No! No! No!

  Uncontrolled tears flow down my cheeks, stinging my face.

  When I finally reach him, he’s on his side. Motionless.

  I push against him, hoping for a noise or a grunt. Nothing.

  With my heavy gloves discarded, I pull at the ski mask covering his face. The wet fabric clings to his face, leaving a dark tint to his skin. When I direct the flashlight to his face, a raw scream falls from my lips. His face is covered in blood. His half-open eyes stare vacantly into the night.

  “Nicholas William Harris!” I scream. “You will not leave me!” Standing over him, I rip off my heavy coat and lay it next to him. “You and I are going to talk, and then we are going to figure us out.” I take care to hold his neck as I turn him to lie on the coat. “You don’t get to exit this world without following through on your commitments.”

  Using the coat as a makeshift sled, I start the arduous task of hauling an unconscious man twice my size through the thick woods.

  “You have a park to help dedicate.” The words are labored, strained as I pull on his lifeless form. “You have spoons to make. I know you need to apologize to Blake for punching his face in.”

  The air filling my lungs feels arctic, hard. Breathing is a chore. The cold is bone-deep and unforgiving. Somehow a trickle of sweat pushes past my hairline and ignites a fiery line down my spine.

  I see the opening of the woods, a clear path without vegetation, but nothing else. No buildings. No light.

  I don’t know where we are.

  “Damn it,” I mutter before stomping back to the sled. Using the flashlight, I scan the items from the snowmobile. Basic first aid equipment, nothing more than bandages and gauze. Some tools and a package of wet wipes. Panic and desperation grip me as I dig through one useless item after another.

  When the light catches a bright-orange pouch, I grab for the bag.

  I unzip the package, careful not to let the contents hit the snow. I have never loaded a gun, and I silently pray that a flare gun is easier and not as dangerous, but I need to try. Quickly looking at the pictures on the instruction sheet, I push the cartridge into the barrel, shoving the other flares into my pocket before racing past Nick’s still body and into an opening.

  “Hurry, please,” I whisper before pulling the trigger and illuminating the night sky with a deafening crack and bright-orange light.

  I leave one of the flare sticks burning at the spot where I fired the signal into the air. The flame acts as my finish line in the race to drag Nick from the woods. I feel like we’ve been out here for hours. I can barely grip the edges of the coat anymore.

  My body feels frozen. Stiff and useless.

  I want to lie down next to Nick and sink into darkness.

  We can be together in quiet, icy slumber. My knees give, muscles wavering in the ability to hold me upright.

  In the distance, I hear the sound of a chainsaw. Take the trees. Just leave us.

  “Harris!”

  The voice sounds so far away.

  “Hey! You!”

  I hear the man as if he’s underwater.


  “Did you set off the signal?”

  I blink, trying to decipher if the man before me is real. “Yes,” I manage as I look down at Nick. “Help him.”

  He looks at the ground. “Holy fuck!” I watch him move around Nick, then press his fingers to Nick’s neck. “Bill, call Rescue Patrol, now! It’s Nico.”

  The sound of two more flares explode overhead. There are voices yelling. Snowmobiles revving. Our silent tomb becomes inhabited with lights, action, and a barrage of people. From behind me, strong hands grip my shoulders.

  “Come with me, sweetheart.” A kind-looking gentleman with gray hair guides me away from the chaos surrounding Nick. He leads me to a large medic van with industrial wheels. “My name is Charlie. I’m EMS. Can you tell me what happened?”

  I try to respond, but the words won’t form.

  “How long were you out here?” Charlie flashes a light near my face before squeezing my wrist and looking at his watch.

  My body jerks, threatening to level me.

  The noise around Nick heightens when four new snowmobiles enter the fray.

  “Where is he?” I hear Adam’s familiar bark. “Nico?” Adam’s body is bent over the orange sled Nick is lying in. “Hey, man, wake up! Nico! Answer me!”

  “Adam, back off. Meet us at the hospital.”

  I hear the words at a distance, but I’m floating. I see them load Nick into the back of a truck. People swarming around him, cutting off clothing, holding up needles, yelling in his face.

  “Sweetheart?”

  I turn and reach for Charlie as the world darkens and slides away.

  Chapter 20

  Skyler

  “Skyler! Hey! Skyler! Can you hear me?”

  Prickly bites of pain stab every inch of my skin.

  “Skyler, we need to call an emergency contact. We have your phone.” The woman standing over me, yelling inches from my face, is wearing a top covered in rainbow-patterned paw prints. “Skyler! Who should we call?”

  “Caleb,” I grunt before slipping back into darkness.

  *

  “Skyler!” Her voice is so loud, jarring me from the black hole of my mind. “Sorry to scare you, dear, but we need to make some modifications.”

  “Mmm?” I blink, unsure of where we are. The noise, the ugly, pale-blue curtains, and the god-awful fluorescent lighting means only one place: the emergency room. It smells like antiseptics and illness. I feel hands pulling at my warm blanket, the action rocking me a bit.

  “I apologize, dear. I just got off the phone with Caleb. We need to update everyone on your medical status.”

  I roll my eyes shut, leaning back on the hard gurney. I let them connect monitors and check my temperature.

  “Can you give me a summary of your medical history? I want to make sure Caleb got all the information correct.”

  Her voice is so loud. I feel the urge to tell her my boobs were the issue, not my ears.

  “I was diagnosed with a Stage 2 malignancy. Tested positive for the BRACA gene. I had a double mastectomy with reconstruction. Short round of chemo.” The words feel thick and jumbled in my mouth.

  “Ah, so your emergency contact is really up to date on everything. He said your last treatment was about six months ago.”

  “Yep.”

  “Any concerns you might be pregnant?” she asks with clinical precision.

  “No. Prophylactic oophorectomy.” I reply with more bite than I intended. Fertility is still a sore spot for me.

  “I’m sorry, dear,” she offers with a genuineness I wasn’t expecting. Her empathy makes my throat close. “Let me talk to the doctor and see if he wants to do anything different with your treatment.”

  I nod, and she exits, pulling the thin curtain sheet halfway across the opening. She scoots around the desk, paging the doctor overhead. Moments later, he is standing next to her. Her volume must not be exclusively for me, because even across the walkway, I hear her. She pauses only briefly to confirm a bed should return to the bay next to mine.

  Nurse McShouty relays everything to the doctor. The accident, the call with Caleb, the diagnosis and treatment. He looks over my chart as she tells him everything. He nods and confirms my name. “Skyler Douglass? Right? Bay three?”

  The nurse nods and immediately starts moving toward me. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

  I’m not going anywhere, but I realize she isn’t speaking to me.

  “Lie down, young man. You took quite the tumble.”

  I hear him grunt, then growl my name.

  Oh no . . .

  “She’s right next door, honey. She’s fine. Your little champion beat cancer. She’s not going to let a nasty tumble from a snowmobile take her down. Now, you—”

  Her words touch the air, and the world spins out of control.

  On the other side of the curtain, I hear him bellow, screaming my name over and over. The metal frame of the gurney squeals and cracks. The beeping of equipment and his heart monitor wail as they relay his fury.

  The nurses call for backup. Security and his brothers barrel into the emergency department. They fight with him, but trying to cage a wild animal is useless when they are set on their course.

  I hear them call for medications to subdue him. Moments later, he howls and the storm calms.

  His breath slows to a brutal suck and push. “Sky . . .” he croaks.

  The guilt suffocates me.

  I curl into myself, and for the millionth time, I cry over Nicholas William Harris.

  Chapter 21

  Skyler

  Thirty-two hours after the accident, they released me from the hospital. They took extra care in retrieving my medical records to make sure I was stable. I know they were on the phone with Caleb. Evan and Jude took turns checking in on me. They gave me brief updates about Nick’s condition: concussion, no broken bones, he fades in and out. After succumbing to my own exhaustion, I woke up to Adam sitting in the chair in the corner of my room, glaring at me. He stood up and left without a word.

  I still feel cold.

  Adam refused my request to see Nick before I left. Per Evan, they tried to get Adam to lighten up, but he was immovable. Nick’s still in the hospital, but he won’t be coming home any time soon. Evan didn’t say much else to me in the car on the way to Nick’s house.

  Once inside, Evan moves around the house with clear purpose, starting a fire and checking the fridge. “It looks like there is plenty of stuff to eat. Will you be okay with making food?”

  I look at him, unsure if he really cares or if he’s asking to be polite. “I know how to cook, Evan. I’m not very hungry.”

  “Fuck, Skyler,” he mutters. “I know you didn’t eat that garbage at the hospital. You need to eat. If you can’t find something here, text me and I’ll bring you dinner.” He grabs my phone and punches in his number. “We’re still not out of this storm system, so if you need me, just text.” Evan stares at me with Nick’s warm hazel eyes. “Do not leave the house without someone. Specifically Jude or me. Okay?”

  I nod. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Nico taught you how to keep the fire going?”

  At the sound of his name, my throat tightens. I can’t look at Evan, knowing my emotions are so close to spilling over, but I nod and swallow past the lump in my throat.

  Evan inhales, his nostrils flaring wide before shifting his weight. He stares at me with an emotion I cannot name, but from my limited experience with Evan, it is not good.

  “Say what you have to say.” My voice cracks under my emotion. “You don’t have to look at me like that.”

  Evan nods, looking more intense than I have ever seen him. “I do have to look at you like this, Skyler.” He takes one step closer. “Do not fuck with my little brother. None of us will stand for it.”

  “Do you think this was my plan, Evan? Yes, I made sure that tree was exactly where it needed to be so I could fuck up everyone’s life.” I sniff past my tears. “For the record, your little brother did
just as much fucking up. He’s no saint.”

  “Of course he’s not a saint. He’s Nico. I’m not talking about the accident, Skyler. That could have been any of us. You should have told him about your diagnosis.”

  “Thank you, Evan, for confirming everything I already know! I was going to tell him when we got back here, and then somehow we ended up in the woods, and I thought he might be dead, so that derailed my plan a bit.”

  “Trust me, we all had that worry. You’re lucky to be dealing with me right now. Adam wants you drawn and quartered. He didn’t even want me to bring you here.”

  “Well, you can tell Adam I don’t care. My only concern is Nick. All of you can buckle up for one hell of a ride if you think you’re going to keep me from seeing him. Adam is a control freak who needs to get laid. Any jackass who thinks he’s going to steamroll me will regret the day he ever messed with me or my man.”

  Evan crosses his arms, one hand coming up to rub his chin. “See, that’s why I like you.” Evan’s mouth scrunches up, his head nodding. “Adam does need to get laid.”

  “I do not have the desire to explore Adam’s lackluster love life. When is Nick coming home?”

  His cheeks puff as he exhales. “The concussion is nasty, Skyler. He is still foggy. They may keep him another day or two, and then he’s going to stay with Adam.”

  “I can take care of him,” I offer. “I’ve tended to him before.”

  “This situation is different.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.” The selfish parts of me want to make this better on my terms. I need to help him understand. Plus I’ve always cared for him when he’s not well. Nick had the flu three years ago and turned out to be an adorable patient under my care.

  “It is, Skyler. You’re in our world now.” Evan cuts the conversation and moves to the door. “You have my number.”

  “Can you tell him . . .” The words catch in my throat. I want him to get better. I miss him. I’m sorry. I love him.

  Evan nods. “I will.”

  *

  “Does she realize all the ways she violated HIPPA?” Reagan’s voice is firm with outrage.