Page 23 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
My body locks up, and the room erupts in chaos.
Breck drops Willow to the couch, his wide eyes finding mine at the same time she yells, “Swear jar!”
Willow attempts to run for the kitchen, also barefoot, and Wes grabs her, tossing her over his shoulder. “Uncle Wes!” she shouts, pounding on his back with her little fists.
“Rory, are you okay?” Wes calls, but I’m still frozen, gaze locked on Breck.
Joss adds, “Breck, you still have shoes—”
“On it,” he says, already moving. He rounds the counter, concern flitting across his face when he takes in the mess around me.
“Rory, don’t move, okay?” His voice is soft and gentle.
I’m not going anywhere, acutely aware of the fact I’m standing in a minefield of broken glass. Breck’s boots crunch over it, the sound scraping through my consciousness and bringing me back to the pain in my foot.
I look down and the room spins. There’s more blood now. The edges of my vision blur but snap back into focus when largehands grip my biceps. I look up into brilliant blue eyes. They’re the only things that could distract me from the pain radiating in my foot and the tightness in my chest.
“I’m going to put you on the counter, yeah?” His accent wraps itself around the wordyeahin the most indecent way.
He winds an arm around my waist to hoist me onto the counter, the move obscenely easy for him. I’ve never been one for being manhandled, but I don’t hate it right now. Heat rises to my cheeks, my mind offering up other ways he could—
Rory, what the hell?
“Hey, you okay?” The hand that isn’t still wrapped around my waist cups my cheek, forcing me to look at him. Can he see what I was thinking? I make myself focus on Breck, on the pain, on anything but my wayward thoughts.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I don’t like blood,” I stutter out.
“I guessed as much. Keep your eyes on me. Where’s your first aid kit?”
“Upstairs, under my bathroom sink.”
“I’ll get it,” Joss says from across the room.
A minute later, Wes is next to me. “You know, Roars, if you wanted help with the hot chocolate, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to resort to violence and start breaking stuff.” He chuckles, and I try to smile back, but it feels weak.
“If you aren’t careful, Wessy,” I say through clenched teeth, “I will choose violence and throw the next one at your head.”
“Well, there she is. See? You’re okay,” he says, a genuine smile replacing the look of concern.
“I’ve got the first aid kit,” Joss says, walking into the kitchen. “Bloody hell. That’s, well, a bloody mess.”
I groan and close my eyes, my head tipping forward as I attempt to pull air into my lungs. My forehead hits something firm and warm with a soft thud. Breck’s chest. I can’t bringmyself to care, forcing a big inhale in through my nose to avoid passing out. He smells good. Really good.
“Helpful, Joss,” Breck mutters sarcastically.
It registers through the haze that this is embarrassing. What a wonderful first impression I’m making on my soon-to-be sister-in-law. Passing out would be worse, however, so I really need to pull it together. I hear more crunching of glass and assume everyone has shoes on now to avoid ending up in the exact mess I’ve found myself in.
Except Willow apparently, because the man holding me to his chest says in his firm dad voice, “Stay there, love. Just wait until we get everything cleaned up.”
“Okay.” She sniffles, and I hate that I’ve scared her with my clumsiness. “Is Rory alright?”
“Yeah, sweetheart, she’s fine. Just needs a minute.” His words puff out across the top of my hair, and my neck prickles at the closeness, the warmth.
The swish of a broom and the tinkle of glass filter in alongside the sound of my breaths mingling with the ones that lift the chest I’m still resting against.
“Joss, can you check her foot?” Breck’s voice rumbles out above me and I press my hands into his abdomen in an attempt to push away.
“I’m okay,” I say, but I don’t make it far. Blinking my eyes open, I catch sight of the bloody massacre that is my floor. “No, I’m not.” I squeeze my eyes shut again and feel Breck’s hand smooth up my back.
