Rescued by the Major (Winter Rescue)

3. Anders

3

ANDERS

She’s a tough little thing. There’s been no complaining or crying about how cold she is or how hard the trek through the woods is turning out to be. I’m sweating in my coat and my leg aches. The missing muscle is most obvious to me in these strenuous situations, and I almost wish for it back. But that’s a waste of time and energy. I need to keep my focus on getting us back to the cabin. I’m at least trained for this. Eva doesn't have any background in surviving this type of situation and if she can keep pushing forward, so will I.

We walk in silence, the wind shoving cold fingers at us, biting at any exposed skin, and I worry about the woman behind me. I start a mental list of things I’ll need to do to make sure she warms up properly as soon as we reach the cabin. Settle her beside the fire, make sure she’s drinking water, wrap her in blankets. Dry clothes and a meal.

It feels like forever, but I finally see the glint of light through the trees as dusk descends and relief spears through me. My steps speed up and I feel a tug on the line as Eva stumbles to keep up. I reach a hand back and she takes it, fingers squeezing as if she needs to reassure herself that I’m real.

It’s awkward, but I don’t pull away from her. Instead, I just keep walking, her hand holding onto mine like it’s an anchor, until we break free of the ring of trees, into the small clearing around the cabin. Eva picks up her pace and I let her hand slip from mine, surprised when I feel a sense of loss at the missing connection between us.

We make our way through the snow to the steps and clamber up onto the porch. I kick the wet slush from my boots, smiling as Eva does the same. But my smile shifts to worry as I realize she’s not wearing boots. Just tennis shoes. I can see her start to shiver as she stands there, the body heat generated from our trek here rapidly leaving her.

“Get inside,” I growl, instantly wanting to kick myself as fear crosses her face. “I’m sorry. Just mad at myself. I didn't know you were wearing tennis shoes. I assumed you had boots on. We’ve gotta warm up your feet, honey.”

She looks down at her own feet, as if confused by my order. I release the rope between us, and then push open the door, waving her inside. She sways as she crosses the threshold, and I can see exhaustion hit her. Steadying her with one hand, I press the other to the small of her back.

“Not just yet, sweetheart,” I say, the endearments not something I’d normally use, but that moment of fear on the porch is something I desperately want to replace. She needs to trust me, and she can’t if she’s afraid. “Take your coat off here by the door.”

She follows my directions, and I strip myself down to my clothes, hanging my coat and hat up on the hook, tugging my gloves off and setting them down on the bench as I kick off my boots so they can dry on the rack.

Eva’s movements are sluggish now, as if the adrenaline that fueled her on our walk here is fading fast. Guiding her to the couch, I watch as she sits. I jog to my room, strip out of my wet clothes and throw on a pair of sweatpants, grab a clean set of clothes for Eva, and then hurry back. She hasn't moved, and is just sitting there, shivering.

“We need to get you out of these wet clothes. These are going to be warmer for you.” She looks at me for a moment, and I’m surprised to find I’m holding my breath, hoping she’ll trust me to take care of her. She finally nods, reaches for the hem of her sodden sweatshirt, struggling to pull it over her head. I help her and when it drops to the floor with a splat, I set the bundle of clothes down on the end table beside her.

Turning my back, I hear the rustle of clothing as she peels the wet layers off and then replaces them with the ones I’ve brought her.

“Okay,” she says, her voice shaky. When I look back at her, the sight of her wearing my clothes with her hair mussed like I’ve run my fingers through it, makes my heart twist. This isn’t good. Neither one of us needs me to be feeling like this when we’re dealing with life-or-death decisions.

Her eyes track the wet footprints on the wood floor and then fly to mine, going wide and I see that worry again. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve thought to take my shoes off first. I got snow all over the floor.” She grabs her sweatshirt out of the pile, as if she intends to use it to clean up, but I gently put my hands on her shoulders, stopping her.

“Not worried about snow on the floor. I’m worried about getting you warm. Now, sit down for me please, before I have a heart attack, and let me take care of you.”

She slumps down onto the couch, but at least the fear is replaced with surprise. Someone’s put her through some stuff, there’s no doubt in my mind about that. And it makes me want to punch the asshole.

Eva doesn’t resist as I grab the blankets and tuck one around her. Even through the clothes, I can feel how cold she is. Her lips are blue, and I hurry to the hearth, getting the fire going as fast as I can. There’s plenty of wood inside, so we’ll be fine while the storm rages.

“Lay back against that side, there, Eva, against the pillow.” I lift her feet up as she does what I tell her and settle her legs into my lap as I drop down. Her skin is icy in my hands, and the bright red color makes my gut clench with worry. Not a good sign. “Give me a second, hon. Gotta get you warmed up, but we’ll take it slow. Do it right.”

She nods, her eyes turning sleepy. My hands burn against her chilled skin, and I begin to gently massage her calves, working down into the soles of her feet, trying to encourage the blood to circulate, then move back to her lower legs. She winces, but then settles back without fighting me.

“You did well out there,” I say softly, trying to distract her with words. Soon enough, she’ll feel the pain as her feet warm up again, and I want to keep her focused on me. Anything to spare her some of that. “Kept up with me like a champ. Like you’ve done this before.”

She gives a small smile, and it feels like a victory. “Obviously not. Or I wouldn’t have gotten myself stranded in the middle of a blizzard.”

“Happens to the best of us,” I say, and she rewards me with a little laugh. The firelight dances across her face, and it feels good to have someone here to talk to. It’s been a long time.

“Not to you. I bet you’ve never had to be rescued by anyone.”

An image flashes through my mind, so real in that split second moment, before it’s gone again. Frantic voices, hands hauling me out, pain bright and white hot in my leg.

“Are you okay?” It’s this soft question that pulls me out of the loop that any other time would keep replaying until I couldn’t stand it any longer. Until my hands are shaking and my head aches from the pounding of my pulse.

I blink and I’m back in the safety of the familiar cabin. The walls are steady around me, not shaking from impact, not echoing with the sounds of mortar rounds outside. It’s just me. And Eva.

Her small fingers touch the back of my hand, and that simple touch grounds me. Anchors me here, and I no longer feel the sense that things are slipping out of my control.

“I’m fine,” I answer, looking up from her hand on mine to meet her eyes. The concern I see there makes my heart thud with a want I thought I’d left behind long ago. “But you’re wrong, Eva. Everyone needs rescued at some point. It’s just a question of when. And if there’s anybody willing to rescue you.”