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Shit. “Jo, stay with me?”
“Hmmm?” She lifted her head, her gaze hazy. “Yeah…” Her head dropped, and she toppled sideways.
Fuck.
Their location on the river bank was too vulnerable. He scooped Jo into his arms and hurried into the shelter of the forest where the snow was patchier.
He placed her gently down, where dried pine needles provided some protection from the cold ground. Doing his best not to let the bluish tinge of her skin distract him, he stripped off her wet underwear and toweled her dry as best he could with his shirt.
“Jo. I need to dress you.”
She mumbled something indistinct as he fought to get her into the sweater and insulated pants Sophie had loaned her. Her damp skin resisted him every step of the way, but he swallowed his curses and directed his energy to getting her clothed. Finally, he got her dressed and her socks back on.Her palms had stopped bleeding, but he applied soft clean dressings and a spray of antiseptic to keep the wounds clean.
He dug out an orange survival bag and maneuvered Jo inside as he propped her up against the nearest tree. She was no longer shivering, but her lips had a worrying bluish tinge.
He crouched and cradled her shoulders. “Jo.”
“Mmmm.”
“Jo, I need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that?”
“Shooly ay will…” Her eyes jerked under closed lids.
Fuck.
Griff straightened, dragging a hand across his skull. He had to get her warm faster. He pulled on his cargo pants and hat and stepped into the survival bag behind her. It was a tight squeeze, but he just about fit.
He settled into place behind her, wrapping his body around her, then rested her head against his collarbone, where he could breathe in her scent and speak to her quietly without advertising their location.
“We’re going to be fine.” He gripped her wrists and held her injured hands across her body. “You just need to warm up for me and be okay.” He kissed the top of her hat, willing the heat from his body into hers.
Slowly, warmth seeped back into his extremities, making his fingertips and toes burn. “Jo, I need you to listen to me.” He spoke against her ear. “Stay awake, because I can’t imagine going forward from here without you. So don’t you be thinking of anything other than warming up.”
A heavy exhalation. “Uh, huh.” Her voice was little more than a mumble, but he took comfort from the steady beat of her breathing.
The river raged on out of sight; the clamor acting an auditory cocoon. Tension eased along the line of his shoulders—the chances of being discovered were slim, but he needed to stay awake and alert. He racked his brains for a topic. “Not sure if I bored you with the details of how I started climbing?”
Jo's breathing was regular.
He sighed. “My dad was a mean drunk. Every weekend it was the same. Smashed bottles, never-ending screams and bruises. I’d hide in my closet under blankets, trying to mute the screams.”
He hung his head as the words he’d never vocalized before released into the frigid air. It felt good to say them out loud. Cathartic. “Soon as I could, I found an escape at the local climbing gym. I was the skinny kid with no friends, but I loved to watch these crazy guys scaling the walls like spiderman. I’d never seen anything like it. I skulked around because I had no money for lessons. But an old guy, James, one of the instructors, he saw me. I don’t know, maybe he recognized something in me from his own youth. He gave me lessons for washing his car. It was the break I needed. A lifeline. The first good thing in my life.”
The rhythm of his speech was making him drowsy. He sucked in a sharp breath. It was too risky for him to sleep before Jo warmed up and her hands were still too chilly for his liking.
“James taught me how to climb, to leap, take risks, to trust that I was good enough, to know that my body was strong enough for whatever I asked it to do, if only I would get out of my own way. Eventually, I was big enough to stand up to my dad. The climbing built muscle, gave me confidence in my body. One night, I stepped in between them and told him to get out. He didn’t even look back. He just left.”
Griff swallowed against the burn in his throat. “You think you’ve run away from something and that you’re free, but then you discover you’ve been carrying it the whole time. I thought climbing freed me, but I was wrong. When I couldn’t climb anymore, the pain was still there, locked away.” He released a long, cleansing swoosh of air. “My mom’s dead, but my dad’s still alive. I’ve never told anyone he’s in a home. I’ve never visited because I’ve been so fucking mad at him.”
Shadows stretched as the afternoon waned. He tilted his head upward, studying the reach of branches and crystalline blue sky above his head. “I’ve carried it for so long, but I’m done with that. I’m letting go. You’ve shown me life is better when you release the anger and fear.”
He felt Jo’s hands and relief coursed through him in a powerful wave as he registered the warmth of her skin, her cheek, the soft skin at the crook of her neck. She was warm, her body exhausted and now dozing. His backside was numb from the stony ground and the weight of Jo’s body in his arms, but he’d endure far worse to hold her. Right now, there was nowhere else he’d rather be than here, with his woman in his arms.
44
Jo was cocooned in a world of deceptive warmth. The unyielding contours of a hardened body surrounded her, radiating strength and safety. Coarse wool brushed her face, carrying the faint woodsy fragrance of a man. Griff. Her sanctuary amid chaos.
“Jo.” His voice murmured in her ear, piercing her drowsy fog. “I want you to wake up.”
