No one is.
And can I just say, I’m beginning to feel an awful lot like Alice in Wonderland here—things keep getting “curiouser and curiouser.” Maybe that last plane ride with Philip was really a trip down a really big rabbit hole.
We walk in silence for a minute or two, and with each step, I’m beginning to realize that maybe I didn’t escape from the fall unscathed after all. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, my right ankle is hurting. A lot.
To keep my mind off the pain—and to keep Jaxon and Macy from noticing that I’m limping—I ask, “What are you doing out here anyway? I thought you weren’t going to join the snowball fight.”
“Good thing I was out here, considering the mess Flint got you into.” Jaxon doesn’t so much as glance my way.
“It really is no big deal,” I tell him, despite the fact that my ankle is working its way up from painful to excruciating pretty quickly now. “Flint had me. He—”
“Flint very definitely did not have you,” he snaps, his voice as hard and brittle as the ice all around us as he turns to face me for the first time. “In fact—” He stops, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”
“Besides not being able to figure out why you’re so mad?”
He shrugs off the question as he looks me over from head to toe. “What’s hurting you?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re hurt, Grace?” Macy joins the conversation for the first time. The chicken.
“It’s nothing.” We’ve got a head start, but if we stop, the others are sure to catch up with us, and the last thing I need right now is to make an even bigger spectacle of myself. So much for fitting in…or even blending in. After tonight, I might as well be painted biohazard orange. Something I find particularly ironic, since Jaxon is the one who told me to keep my head down.
But seriously. It’s just like San Diego all over again. There, I was the girl whose parents died. Here, I’m the girl who fell out of a tree and nearly caused World War III between the two hottest guys in school.
FML.
Determined to make it back to school and my room before the others head this way, I start walking again. Or, should I say, I try to start walking again, because I don’t get very far before Jaxon is blocking my path.
“What hurts?” he asks again, and the look on his face tells me he’s not going to let it go.
And since arguing with him wastes precious seconds, I finally give in. “My ankle. I must have twisted it when we hit the ground.”
Jaxon’s kneeling at my feet before I finish, gently probing at my foot and ankle through my boot. “I can’t take this off out here or you’ll get frostbite. But does it hurt when I do this?”
My gasp is the only answer he needs.
“Should I run ahead and get the snowmobile?” Macy asks. “I can be back before too long.”
Oh my God, no. Talk about making a spectacle of myself. “I can walk. Honest. I’m okay.”
Jaxon shoots both of us an incredulous look as he helps me to my feet. Then, without a word, he swoops me into his arms.
21
I Like Standing on
My Own Two Feet, but
Getting Swept Off Them Feels
Surprisingly Good, Too
For long seconds, I can’t move. I can’t think. I can only stare up at him in a kind of openmouthed shock as my brain short-circuits. Because I’m not actually in Jaxon’s arms, right? I mean, I can’t be.
Except I am. And they feel really good around me. Really good. Plus, being in his arms, bride-style, gives me an up-close-and-personal view of his face. And can I just say how unfair it is that he’s even hotter from an inch away? And he smells amazing, too.
His smell—like snow and orange—is what pushes me over the edge, what has me struggling against him like a madwoman in my effort to be put back down. Because if he carries me all the way to school looking and smelling and feeling like he does, I’m going to be a total incoherent mess.
“Can you please stop wiggling around so much?” he demands as I attempt to push myself out of his arms.
“Just let me down, then.” I glance at Macy for support, but she’s staring at us like she thinks she might be getting punked. Since she’s clearly not going to be any help, I turn back to Jaxon. “You can’t carry me all the way back to school!”
There isn’t so much as a hitch in his stride. “Watch me.”
“Jaxon, be reasonable. It’s a long walk.”