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I like how this feels, his body holding mine.
And, somehow, I know he won't push me away.
"Jenny," he inhales sharply, his breathing ragged in my ear. I'm not sure if he's out of breath from running up the hill or if it's something else entirely.
Before I can turn, take in his face, I notice Mrs. Henderson's fat Chihuahua, Tiny, barking at the top of the hill.
Something's wrong.
I point towards the dog. "Kyle, what's Tiny doing outside right now?"
His body stiffens against mine. "I'm not sure."
He releases my waist and I mentally chide myself when disappointment wracks through my body. Before I can stew on it for too long, he grabs my hand, laces our fingers together and starts to pull me in the direction of Mrs. Henderson's house.
Tiny leads the way through the thick trees, turning back to bark at us every few feet. It's a maze through tall pines and aspens, a foot of snow slowing us down while we try to get to the house tucked quietly back from the road.
Kyle blazes through the trees, shielding my body from all the branches scraping his arms and legs. He still hasn't let go of my hand and I find myself gripping his fingers tighter, afraid of what we might find.
As the thicket of trees clear, Mrs. Henderson's two-story log cabin comes into view. I gasp when I see the little old lady in her nightgown and robe, curlers still set in her white hair, laying at the bottom of her icy stairs. There's a halo of blood surrounding her head. Kyle releases my hand to run to her.
My fingers shake violently as I dial 911, tell the operator she fell, we're not sure how long she's been out here, give the address and then slowly walk over and kneel beside Kyle checking Mrs. Henderson's pulse.
"She's still breathing," he exhales in relief. "She's freezing, though. Run inside and grab a blanket. She usually keeps a few draped over the chair by the fireplace."
I nod, stand up, carefully climb the steep steps of her porch, and then fly into the house. Everything's a blur as I grab an armful of blankets and rush back outside to Kyle.
He's still kneeling beside Mrs. Henderson when I return. I start covering her body with the blankets, making sure to avoid the pool of blood near her head. Tiny licks my arm as lays right beside her, trying to keep her warm.
"Ambulance should be here in a few minutes," I tell Kyle, shivering as I look down at the elderly lady who bakes sugar cookies for the whole neighborhood every Christmas. She looks like she's resting peacefully, not unconscious from slipping down the stairs and hitting her pale head on the ice.
Kyle notices me shaking and stands up. He wraps his hands around mine, waits until my teary eyes meet his dark, piercing ones before he speaks. "Go wait at the end of the driveway and flag down the ambulance. Can you do that?"
I nod as my teeth begin to chatter. "I-I c-can do t-that."
Kyle pulls me into him, drapes his arms over my shoulders, runs his hands along my spine, the pressure soothing. "It's going to be alright."
I nod against his chest. "I-I know."
When he lets me go, I run down the snowy driveway to wait for the ambulance.
Chapter 10
Kyle and I sit on Mrs. Henderson's frigid front steps, a plaid blanket situated beneath us. Tiny is curled up in my lap, a chilly breeze rustling through the trees. The sun shines down in golden slants through the overgrown branches surrounding the log cabin. It's almost as if nothing traumatic transpired here today.
The ambulance came, the paramedics stabilized Mrs. Henderson, and then they carted her off to the hospital. It was an out-of-body experience. The red and blue lights blinking in tandem with my racing heart. The sterile gloves cleaning up a bloody head wound. Bright white stretcher carrying Mrs. Henderson's body to the back of the ambulance. It was all a blur, almost like a distant memory. One I don't want to remember anytime soon.
The pool of blood at the bottom of the steps is finally soaked into the packed snow, leaving behind a faded pink marking in its wake. I stare at it and wonder what would have happened if we hadn't found her in time. If I hadn't lost my footing. If Kyle hadn't wrapped his strong hands around my waist, sparking a jolt of sensations beneath my skin. If Tiny hadn't barked.
"Stop looking at it," Kyle says beside me, his thigh brushing softly against mine.
"I can't help it. What if we hadn't argued? What if I hadn't gotten out of the car? What if..." I trail off, a single tear sliding down my cheek, disappearing into the sleeve of my warm turtleneck.
I'm overwhelmed. So overwhelmed. But not just from finding Mrs. Henderson the way we did, blood oozing from her head, soaking into the snow beneath her. It was also Kyle arguing with me, chasing after me, then comforting me. It was all just too much.
Kyle's fingers carefully slide along my cheek, pulling me from my thoughts. Thoughts that keep circling back to him.
He captures a strand of blond hair and brushes it behind my ear. His hand lingers before his fingers twine around a lock, just like they did at brunch three days ago. I'm not sure why he's touching me, why I'm letting him, why I want to melt into him like butter on warm toast.
