“Yeah, no problems.”
“Good. Hope you’re going to arrive soon. Anne’s not back yet, and we’ve got a bunch of little injuries I need you to take a look at. We halted the race for twenty-four hours, but everyone needs to be cleared before tomorrow morning.”
A bout of dizziness hit her, and she had to lean against the tree. Shit.
“I’m still about an hour out.” She didn’t like to lie, especially not when she could almost see the camp from here, but the way she was feeling right now, it might take her every bit of an hour to make it that last quarter of a mile.
“Oh. Okay. I thought you would’ve been much closer,” Zac said. “You sure everything’s okay?”
“Yep.” Her voice was tight. She was glad he couldn’t see her face. “Just a little slow.”
“Okay. We’ll see you when we see you. Be looking for you in about an hour.”
“An hour. Roger that.”
She pushed herself up from the tree she was leaning against. She needed to keep making forward progress—an hour would pass quickly, and she wouldn’t be able to hold Zac off a second time.
But when she took a step forward and leaned to grab the safety harness lying on the ground next to the bridge, her muscle spasmed—the worst it had done all day. She jerked forward, lost her balance, and fell to her knees.
Shit. This was bad. The annoying, nagging pain that had plagued her since she’d started walking had been bad enough. But it had been manageable.
But her muscles clenching and unclenching like this? That was bad. Very bad.
“You’re hurt. Something is wrong, and you didn’t tell me.” She sucked in her breath at Boy Riley’s voice behind her.
This was much worse.
She turned. He stepped out of the tree line just a few feet behind her.
She had to get it together, quick. She forced herself to sit up straighter, like she’d meant to sit down for a little break. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Just clumsy.”
“That’s bullshit, Wildfire, and we both know it. I was so pissed when I woke up and found you gone.”
She didn’t want to fight with him. Couldn’t afford to fight with him. “In my defense, I thought I was going to get the RV and drive it to camp two. I thought you had to walk since you still wanted to be in the race, so I might as well let you rest. Then the rope bridge was out so I had to turn around.”
“I’ve been watching you for three miles.” Those whiskey-brown eyes narrowed at her. “At first I was trying to figure out why you’d left. I thought maybe you just needed some time or something. What happened in the cabin was pretty intense.”
She nodded. It was all she could do.
“Jesus, Wildfire, you’ve never been one to run away. I’ve always trusted you.”
“I’ve never betrayed your trust. No matter how far apart we’ve been, there’s never been anyone else.”
He shook his head. “I know that. For me either. I’ve never been interested in any other woman but you.”
He took a step toward her, and she wished she could scoot away, but unless she wanted to drag herself in the dirt, that wasn’t happening. “But I trusted you to tell me when you needed something. To communicate with me. Not run away.”
“I always did.”
“I would’ve believed that until today.” Another step closer. “I’ve been watching the pain and stiffness get worse. Dizziness too, right?”
Damn it, he’d always been way too observant. It was what made him such an exceptional athlete.
She had to think of a way to talk herself out of this.
She stretched her leg out in front of her as casually as possible, hoping if it seized or jerked again, it wouldn’t be noticeable. “I think we can both agree it’s been a crazy day. I might’ve pushed it a little too far. My body decided that an extra five-mile hike on top of everything I asked it to do today was unreasonable and let me know it.”
He tilted his head to the side, studying her. “You know, that’s exactly what I told myself. That you had every right to take it as slowly and stiffly as you wanted. That you saved my life today and that I should be carrying you if you wanted me to.”
She didn’t like that he was being so reasonable. Didn’t like that he was standing over her, towering over her way down here on the ground. “Why aren’t you angry? I left you sleeping without a word.”
“Oh, like I said, I was plenty angry. I was going to have it out with you.”
“Okay, so let’s have it out.” She’d been wrong. Fighting was better. She could easily make him mad and get him off topic.
“I’m not going to fight with you, Wildfire.”
“And why is that?” She said with a smirk, the furthest actual thing from what she was feeling.
He crouched down so he was more at her level. “Because that’s exactly what you want. To distract me with a fight.”
Goddammit. “Get over yourself, Harrison. Hell, I’ll admit we had some good sex today. But nothing has changed. I still don’t want you in my life. We’re not right for each other. Never have been, if you think about it.”
He tilted his head to the side again. “Do you want to marry me?”
Oh God, her heart was going to break inside her chest. “You’re really not good with the concept of a breakup, are you? That’s the opposite of getting married.”
He shifted his weight so he was sitting on the ground near her rather than crouching. “I know we never seriously talked about marriage. Except for when we saw that house. Do you remember that?”
If she could have run away, she would have. “Yes,” she choked out. “I remember the house.”
She’d lived in Oak Creek all of her life and somehow had never known about the huge old cabin about five miles south of the main section of town. She and Riley had found it almost by accident when they’d seen a realtor’s open-house sign as they were driving by the main road last fall.
One look at the place, and she’d fallen in love with it. The wraparound porch. The three fireplaces. The use of native stone for the outer finishes. The creek that ran through the back of the property.
It was like she’d seen her whole future there. Her. Riley. Three kids.
She’d said something of the sort to him, then felt like an idiot. She’d always been the one to belittle the concept of a traditional marriage and family.
She’d seen how ugly marriage could turn out, had been used as a bartering tool between her mother and father for most of her childhood.
She’d wanted to stay as far away from that as possible. He’d known it from the beginning, and it hadn’t bothered him.
“I know what I said when we saw the house. It was just hormones or something.”
It sure as hell hadn’t felt like hormones. It had felt like fate was slapping her in the face, telling her that maybe everything she’d thought she didn’t want she actually did.
Of course, fate had slapped her again with the MS diagnosis—telling her maybe it didn’t matter what she did or didn’t want. She was getting MS instead.
“It was the only time you ever talked about the possibility of marriage and a family. I was wondering if maybe you were considering that again now.”