Page 85 of Chasing Hope

“Shouldn’t we be as loud as we can?” I whisper, sucking in a gasp.

He shakes his head slowly, never taking his eyes off the bears. He lowers himself in the water and I follow his lead until the water laps at my neck. He pries his hand off my wrist, only to wrap his arms behind him and around my stomach, pulling me flush against his back.

The bears continue on, completely unaware of our presence in the creek, and that’s when I see what Matteo must have—a well-worn path that veers off to the left.

We’re vulnerable in the water, can’t move as quickly if need be. If they follow the path, they’ll be gone in a minute.

It’s the longest sixty seconds of my life. I don’t breathe, don’t dare to, and Matteo doesn’t move an inch either. The only thing telling me he’s still alive and breathing is the pulse point in his neck.

Fear is an odd thing, one that shows up differently in each individual. For me, I freeze and turn to stone.

I never feel anything in those moments—not fear, not pain, not pleasure. If something makes me freeze, I feel nothing. It’s as if my body completely shuts down.

And I certainly shut down in this moment.

It isn’t until Matteo finally breathes out a sigh of relief and turns toward me, his gaze searching my face, that I realize I’ve checked out.

“We should go in case they come back. I thought that was a human-made path.”

Nodding, I don’t put up any resistance as he helps me out of the water. I’m so out of it that one moment we’re getting out of the creek, Matteo shivering slightly, and in the next, I’m sitting on the tailgate of his truck with a towel wrapped around me, my feet dangling as I swing them back and forth.

Matteo is standing in front of me, a towel draped over his shoulders.

His lips thin, a worried smile if I’ve ever seen one. “Welcome back.”

Blinking, I start to feel the sensations of my body. Begin to feel how cold the water really was, the dirt between my toes, the goosebumps lining my skin, and surprisingly, the longing in my chest for this man.

My voice hitches. “That was scary.”

He nods slowly, eyes not leaving mine. “Been a while since I’ve seen you like that.”

My brows furrow. “Like what?”

“Floating,” he supplies.

“Ah.” I blink, trying to clear the mental fog. It always takes longer for the clouds to disappear afterward. Like moving through quicksand, everything is slow, sluggish, and thick.

“Come on, I’ll take us home,” Matteo says gently.

“Okay.”

He moves forward, offering his hand to help me from the truck bed. It isn’t long until we’re back in the cab, the tire successfully out of the mud, and on the road with the heater blasting to warm up our chilled bones.

The ride is a silent one, Matteo trying to spark up a conversation here and there, but despite coming back down, I can’t string together a sentence to save my life. He knows that, though. It’s why, halfway back to the apartment, his hand lands on my thigh, palm up.

I take it without pause and tell myself one more lie: He doesn’t want to hold my hand because we nearly kissed. Matteo is just doing what he always does—comforting me as I find my way back to my body.

It isn’t until he nods at the film camera sitting between us on the middle console and asks, “When are you going to develop the photos?” that I feel myself come back.

My humor, apparently, the first thing to work again because I hear myself tease, “Dying to see the shirtless pictures I took of you?”

He flashes me a quick smirk before returning his gaze to the road. “You took shirtless pictures of me?”

I huff out a laugh. “Hard not to when you spent the entire hike half undressed.”

“Figured I should give you something good to capture.”

“Because the stunning view wasn’t enough?”