Page 67 of The Hang Up
“Okay.” He looked up at her, his blue eyes wide and fearful. “I wasn’t supposed to go off the trail.”
“No,” she agreed, still scanning him for injury. “No, you weren’t. But I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Uncle Jason’s gonna be mad.”
“He might be. But he’s going to be really, really happy you’re okay.”
Henry looked uncertain, and Miriam used the opportunity to lower her knees and shift into a cross-legged position. Seeing his opening, Henry scrambled into her lap and snuggled close. She wrapped her arms around him, flooded with little-boy warmth and a rush of gratitude that he was okay. She breathed him in, wondering what it would be like to have a kid of her own.
“I need to tell your uncle you’re okay,” she said as she let go of him with one hand to slip her phone out of her pocket. She could still hear Jason’s voice in the distance, calling Henry’s name, but it sounded far off. Maybe farther than her voice could carry if she tried to shout back. Her phone showed two bars, so at least she had a signal. Hopefully, so did he.
“Let me just send him a quick message to let him know you’re all right.”
Henry nodded against her chest and sniffled a little. “He’s gonna yell.”
“Maybe. But yelling never killed anyone.”
She typed out the message with one hand, ignoring the throbbing in her wrist as she kept her arm wrapped tight around Henry.
Henry safe. We’re just off the trail where you saw me last.
She stuffed her phone back in her pocket, then wrapped both arms around the little boy. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she assured him, rocking a little to distract herself from the ache in her wrist. “Your Uncle Jason loves you very much, and he’s going to be so happy you’re okay.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. Now tell me about the dinosaur.”
She wasn’t sure how long they sat there like that, with Henry’s warm body snuggled in her lap. He prattled on about dinosaurs, explaining the difference between a brontosaurus and a stegosaurus and some other saurus she’d never heard of. She wasn’t really listening to the words. Just the sound of fear draining from his voice and being replaced by something else. Security. Comfort. A sense of being loved and cherished and safe.
She felt it, too.
Footsteps back on the trail halted Henry’s dinosaur lecture, and they both turned to look. She spotted Jason first, the red of his jacket flashing through the trees as his boots pounded on the path.
“Over here,” she called, lifting one hand to wave. Pain knifed through her wrist, but she ignored it and kept waving. “Jason! Right here! I’ve got him, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
He charged through the trees like a wild animal, the panic evident in his eyes even from a distance. When he reached them, he was breathless and filthy and paler than she’d ever seen him.
The look on his face sent a shiver down Miriam’s spine.
Everything’s not fine.She tightened her hold on Henry.And it’s about to get a lot worse.
* * *
It’s all your fault.
Those words kept pulsing through Jason’s brain as he watched the doctor stitch up Miriam’s wrist. Her flesh was pale and her brow creased in pain and it was all Jason’s goddamn fault.
She looked up at him and smiled, and his heart nearly split in two. He tightened his hold on Henry, who’d been dozing in his lap since they got to the urgent care clinic. Leave it to a five-year-old to nap through a crisis.
“There you go,” the good doc said as he let go of Miriam’s wrist. “Just three stitches. Not too bad. Don’t go having any more battles with busted tree limbs, you hear?”
Her face stayed white, but she gave a shaky smile and a firm nod. “I’ll try to resist the urge.” She glanced at Henry, who stirred in Jason’s lap.
The boy’s blue eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Miriam and smiled. “Usually I get ice cream after I go to the doctor,” he said, yawning a little as he burrowed against Jason’s chest. “You should ask for ice cream. Or a lollipop.”
“I will.” She gave Henry an encouraging smile. “Sounds like we’ve both been really lucky we have people around who take good care of us.”
She shot an appreciative look at the doctor, who picked up a clipboard and strode out of the room with a quick assurance that he’d be right back.
