He looked at her, and then over to the other bank, only about fifteen feet away. His dark eyes returned to her face, searching. The chaos of the morning had already delayed their start, and now the sun hung low, a lazy globe in the cloudy sky. Even if they sacrificed both bags and swam for the shore—even if by some miracle they made it out of the canyon before sunset—they would still have miles to walk in the dark, soaking wet, before they’d reach a phone.
“Are you stable there?” he asked.
“If I just stand still,” she said, teeth chattering, “I think so.”
“I’m going to get close enough to throw my pack on the shore, and then I’m coming back for you, okay?”
Lily nodded, holding on to his gaze like a tether. The water was pushing at her hips; fighting it with her body weight left her with the sensation that it was accelerating, that the river was trying to battle her. The outside of her bag was already drenched, but the possibility that something inside there could still be dry—the sat phone, the gun, my God, the journal—made her determined to hold it up, hands shaking as water dripped down her tired arms.
She needed him to hurry, but her heart twisted around itself at the idea of him rushing to get there and back, of him getting stuck, of both of them trapped and unable to even reach for each other. She was slapped with the frantic reminder she’d felt earlier: that if anything happened to him, she didn’t know what she would do. Lifting her chin, ignoring her thundering pulse, Lily urged him to get moving. “Be careful.”
“I will.” With one final glance over at her, he turned forward, one foot out, then another, faster now, taking risks he hadn’t before. A few times, his foot slipped, but he managed to catch his balance. Lily watched the tense muscles of his arms using the pack to balance his weight. She had a ball of lead in her throat. Leo stumbled, nearly pitching forward, and she cried out his name; panic felt like it was filling her, cold and terrified as her arms gave out and she had to rest the pack on top of her head so she wouldn’t drop it entirely.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Watching him wasn’t helping; it was making her more terrified. All I can control is myself, she thought. Leo is capable, he is calm under pressure. Just stay still, and he’ll come for you. Lily tried to relax into it, pushing against the way her thoughts recoiled at dependency. She opened her eyes as she heard his pack land safely in a tangle of sagebrush, and he immediately turned, using his arms to propel his momentum quickly over the uneven riverbed.
Beneath her, something shifted, and in an instant her foot was free, but she had no solid stance; the river victoriously tugged her forward, pulling her legs out from under her again, dragging her away from Leo. The last glimpse she got was of his eyes going round in shock, the shape of her name on his lips. Icy water filled her mouth, her eyes, and she was fighting to remain at the surface, spluttering and coughing before slamming roughly against a rock. With a burst of light, the impact knocked the wind out of her. Water rose in a pummeling force, reaching her neck, pinning her to the stone.
Lily couldn’t see anything, couldn’t think of anything except maybe this was how she died. I hope Leo finds the money, she thought. I hope he finds it and buys the ranch in my honor and lives there alone with the horses and Nicole. I hope he never fucking gets over me. A laugh bubbled up and out of her throat, but it turned into a sob when Leo surged from the water in front of her, hair plastered half in his eyes, tiny stars of sunlight gleaming off the spiky tips of his lashes. He reached forward, dragging her away from the rock and hoisting her and her sodden pack onto his back as he trudged forward, one step at a time against the forceful current, determined.
They reached the shore in a tumble, and Leo rolled Lily over onto the grass, crawling after her and cupping her face as she coughed out water.
She felt hysterical now that they were on land, hiccupping and gasping for breath as the shock wore off and understanding hit her: if Leo hadn’t gotten to her when he did, she would have drowned.
He reached back, pulling his soaked shirt off and using it to carefully clean her up. “Lily,” he said gently. “Breathe, honey. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Giving in to the crash of emotions, she reached for him, pulling him down and over her. His torso landed on hers, solid and warm through her wet clothes, and she spread her hands across his bare back, stretching her fingers wide to cover as much of the broad expanse as she could. The strong bum-bum-bum of his heart pounded with reassuring vitality against her sternum. Lily wondered whether he could feel her heart, too. She wondered if he was remembering the first time they’d made love—Lily’s first time ever—and the way he’d collapsed on her afterward, just like this. That night his heart seemed like it was trying to drum its way out of his body and into hers.