"Briar! Fuck!" Asher's voice is like a warm balm to my frozen soul. I can’t see him, but I can hear them, the grunts that come before the relief of the weight on my chest, as air rushes into my lungs. I cough and splutter at the cold air as it hits me.
"Who is it?" I hear Cole ask between the sounds of the still-raging storm.
"Fuck!" Sawyer shouts before I hear his brother’s voice again.
"Shit, Briar," Asher hisses. "She’s fucking frozen."
"Sawyer, Cole, go get another car," Travis instructs, and I hear Sawyer's objections fade into the storm.
Asher’s face appears above mine, his hand on my face. "Can you move, Beautiful?"
I try to open my mouth to speak, but I think shock has me in its grip, because I can’t move or say a thing.
"Fuck this," I hear before I’m lifted into the air. "She needs to get out of this cold. Wait here for the others, and deal with that."
"She needs to get warm, Travis," Asher argues. "She needs medical attention and I can look after her."
"So can I." Travis holds me against his chest and I think I might actually be delusional at this point. Warmth seeps into my cheek, but I can barely feel anything else.
I blink and then he’s strapping me into the car. "I’ve got you, just stay awake for me."
The yips from the puppies tug at the corners of my consciousness, and I feel a wet lick on my cheek.
"Keep her company, buddy," Travis whispers, and I realize Shadow is sitting with me. The door slams closed, and my eyes drift shut, despite the whimper from the puppy on my lap.
In the back of my mind, I know that Travis is in the car and we’re moving, the warmth from the heaters blasting at me along with the heated seats, but I can barely feel it. It’s just made the air super thick, and I can feel my throat drying out.
I don’t know how much time passes, but the next time my eyes open, I’m back in Travis’s arms as he opens the door to the house. A piercing whistle cuts through the sounds of the storm, followed by the yips and barks of the dogs before he strides into the room and gently places me down on the couch. He stays crouched with me, brushing my wet hair from my face. "We need to dry you off and warm you up. Can you undress?"
His voice is softer than I think I’ve ever heard and I blink at him, trying to make my brain actually work.
"I can do that," I croak. "Was he dead?"
"Don’t worry about that right now. That piece of shit can rot for all I care. Let’s get you dry and warm, and then you can tell me what happened."
"Okay," I say with a small nod. He offers me his hand and helps me to my feet. My legs are shaky but he anchors me while I peel off the sopping wet clothes that thud to the ground when I drop them.
Any sort of modesty I should have is living far away in the depths of my shock-addled mind. I can barely feel right now, so caring about him seeing me basically naked again isn’t exactly top of my list.
He runs a thumb over my throat and I wince at how sore it is. His face darkens but he takes a step back and withdraws his touch.
Once I’m down to my underwear, and he seems sure I’m not going to fall or pass out, he heads upstairs, returning with a towel, a pair of sweatpants, and a giant hoodie. "You need to get warm. Dry off and dress in these while I start the fire and get you a hot chocolate."
Usually, compliance isn’t my default function, but I can just barely operate, let alone be willful enough to argue.
Did I really kill him?
I close my eyes and my breath hitches as his face flashes in my mind.
Don’t think, just do, Briar.
I push the thoughts away. He might not be dead.
Please, God, don’t let him actually be dead.
Instead of dwelling on that, I focus on doing what I can, so I finish undressing, towel off, and put on the sweats Travis gave me—ones that smell distinctly of him—before sitting in front of the fire he made for me. He hands me a mug of hot chocolate just as the front door opens and the other three pile into the room, soaking wet and covered in mud.
They all turn to look at me and my heart drops. Their stares telling me all I need to know. "He’s dead, isn’t he?"