Holiday Homecoming by Mary Anne Wilson

Author:Mary Anne Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Holly could barely breathe as she watched Cain climb toward her through the snow, rappelling awkwardly off the side of the drop, hand over hand, upward. She felt her hands clench in her gloves, and it was all she could do not to keep from stretching down to try to help. What if she hadn’t come today, if she had gone with Annie and Sierra to get a Christmas tree, if she hadn’t decided that today was the day to go back to the cabin? Who would have found Cain?

She saw him slowly make his way higher, awkwardly go hand over hand, closer and closer, then she reached out to him. She grabbed at his glove, felt it start to slip, and she quickly caught at his wrist, exposed where the cuff of his jacket had slipped back. She clasped his wrist and pulled with all her might.

Cain was there in a rush, tumbling forward into the snow, shoving her back with him and ending up half on top of her, his weight taking away her breath. His face was inches from hers, and she felt his rapid breathing, warm on her face. She saw the blood on his head, but his eyes were clear and he was alive. He moved off her, pushing himself awkwardly to his feet, then he was the one holding out a hand, helping her get up.

She let him capture her hand with his and held tightly as he lifted her to her feet, then she was facing him. She had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes, and remembered his telling her when Santa had died for him. A belief in something. Gone. Right then she wished she’d been there, that she’d been able to get him what he’d needed, and kept that belief alive, even if only for another year.

Crazy thought, she told herself, and made herself speak rationally. “You’ve cut your head,” she said, squinting at the wound to blur out the man’s features. “You might require stitches.” He shivered, and she realized snow was clinging to him everywhere, even his hair. His goggles were around his neck, snow dug into the collar of his jacket and his skis were nowhere in sight. “We have to get you to the doctor’s.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said through clenched teeth, and she knew that was a lie. He was freezing and probably in shock. But she didn’t argue with him. She took his arm, and knew how “unfine” he was when he leaned toward her. She kept her hold on him and started trudging back the way she’d come, blotting out the memory of the scream that had echoed through the trees and drawn her to the jump.

Cain’s stride got stronger as they went, and by the time the cabin was in view, he was drawing back from her, breaking the connection. She let him go ahead of her, watching him trudge in her old footsteps in the newly fallen snow, heading for the cabin.

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