Page 50 of What We Brave
11
LAINE
The cold seeps into my bones so gradually that I don't notice until my teeth start chattering.
Three hours since Blake and I talked by the medical station, and my time was filled with checking vitals, cleaning wounds, and handing out supplies. The temperature dropped another ten degrees as the sun disappeared, and I've been so focused on keeping everyone else warm that I forgot about myself. So dumb, but also, pretty much my m.o.
My fingers are numb, which is a problem given that I'm supposed to be taking blood pressure readings. I fumble with the cuff on Mrs. Martin's arm, trying to position it correctly, but my hands won't cooperate.
"You're shaking, honey." Mrs. Martin peers up at me with concern. She's seventy-three, diabetic, living in a tent behind the QFC. And she's worried aboutme.
"I'm fine. Just need to?—"
A heavy blanket drops around my shoulders. Wool, scratchy, smelling faintly of cedar and motor oil. I know who it is before I turn around. Is the fact that I can feel his energy a good thing? Maybe it's my lizard brain sensing danger.
Only I don't think I'm in danger from him. Not anymore.
"Stubborn woman," Blake mutters.
His hands find my upper arms through the blanket, and he starts rubbing. Friction heat. Basic survival technique. I should pull away, should tell him I'm fine, should?—
"Jesus, you're frozen solid." His voice is rough. Annoyed. "How long have you been out here without a break?"
"I don't know. Couple hours?"
"Three. It's been three hours, Laine. I've been watching."
"If you already knew, then why did you bother asking?"
“Because I’m trying to figure out if you’re oblivious or being deliberately reckless.”
He growls low in the back of his throat, then scowling, he's steering me away from the medical station. His grip is firm, insistent. Not painful, but not taking no for an answer either.
"Wait I?—"
"Danny can cover for five minutes. You're no good to anyone if you get hypothermia."
He's right. I hate that he's right. People still need help, though.
Blake steers me toward one of the industrial heat lamps near the supply tent. The orange glow hits me from ten feet out, and my whole body leans into it.
So warm.
There aren't any chairs. Just crates and pallets, all taken by people who actually need them. I open my mouth to say I'm fine standing, but Blake's already dropping to one knee on the cold ground.
"Come here." Oh geez. This very big, very tough man is kneeling at my feet, literally offering to support me.
Yeah. No. I'm not in danger from him. I don't think he's going to try and hurt me with his words any more.
But the way he looks at me? Yeah, he's still dangerous.
"What? No. Blake, I'm not going to?—"
"Settle down." He tugs my hand, pulling me off balance. I half-stumble, half-sit onto his thigh, the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders. "You don't weigh anything. Relax."
Well I wasn't worried about my weight considering his thigh's thesize of a tree trunk, but good to know I guess? But sitting on his lap —leg isn't a good idea. Being close to him in any way is a bad idea. It's stirring up stuff that doesn't need to be stirred up. "This is ridiculous."
"So is freezing to death because you're too stubborn to take a break." His arm circles my waist, steadying me, but also locking me in place. "Five minutes. Then you can go back to saving the world."
