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I fist his t-shirt. “Why isn’t he moving? Tell me why he’s not moving.”

Zach frames my face with his hands and applies pressure, making me look at him. “Because he’s unconscious. It’s a high drop. He’s fine.”

“B-but –”

“He’s breathing, Blue. I checked.”

My watery eyes run over his face. Frantically. Crazily. Like I can’t get enough of his sharp, angled features. Like I’ll never get enough.

“J-just bring him back. Please,” I whisper, water clogging my eyes and my throat.

His nostrils flare as he studies my features, and he nods. “You stay where you are.”

I nod back.

He lets me go, and gets to work.

His hands pat the ground, as if looking for something under the leaves. A few pats later, he finds it.

It’s a long thick root, buried under the fallen foliage, connected to a huge tree that I didn’t even notice until now. The root is thick and sturdy and looks to be going down into the hole.

As Zach grips it, probably trying to use it as a rope, I hear thudding footsteps approaching.

Tina’s kneeling beside me. “Are you okay? Did we find him?”

“Yeah. He’s in there.” I motion with my chin.

Zach turns his focus on Tina. “I want you to go and get me a rope. And bring a staff member back with you.”

Nodding, Tina squeezes my shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

With that, she whirls around and runs back.

Using the root, Zach lowers himself into the hole, and I crawl over to the edge, looking down. Art’s still unconscious and my body starts shaking.

Oh God.

How did I fuck up so bad? I’m never babysitting him again. Ever.

But then, I watch Art’s tiny chest move. Up and down. In a rhythm.

He’s breathing.

Thank God.

Just like Zach said.

Who’s almost at the end of the hanging, sturdy root, which only goes down midway. Before I can stop myself, I call out, “Be careful.”

Zach looks up at my words and I bite my lip.

I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, it’s a little too personal and nice. I’m supposed to hate him, right?

But I just thought… I had the right to say it.

And I’m not taking it back.

“Please,” I say, crouched on my hands and knees, peeking down at him, with sweaty hair curtained around my flushed face.


Tags: Saffron A. Kent St. Mary's Rebels Romance