Page 41 of Burnin' For You
She nodded as if eager, as if her leg didn’t scream in protest. But she refused to be the weak link here.
To admit that Reuben had been right, that she should have stayed behind.
“It’s time for me to carry that,” he said, blindsiding her as he reached for the pack.
“No. I got this.”
But he put his big, strong, tan, capable hand around the strap, his mouth a tight, thin line. “I am sure you do, Gilly, but I’m done arguing with you. I’m carrying this pack—it’s not only what I’m good at, but plainly, it’s my turn. Let me carry it or I’ll just have to carry you.”
Her eyes widened for a second. “Over my dead body.”
“No, I’d carry that, too. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
She wasn’t sure if he might be kidding. But when no smile emerged, she tightened her mouth into a thin line of frustration and released the pack.
He swung it up onto his thick shoulder like it weighed nothing.
She felt like she’d released half her body weight. For a moment she thought she might be able to take flight.
She wanted to when she followed Reuben off the rock, again through the forest, her knee on fire.
And shoot, she couldn’t help the slightest shard of disappointment in herself when she realized she’d hoped to impress him.
Now she was simply dead weight, limping along behind him.
“The answer is, yes. I really do have a photographic memory. It was the only thing that got me through school.”
“So, you can see something—”
“And I memorize it instantly, remember exactly what it looks like. It started in second grade when I couldn’t seem to learn to read. I memorized what the words looked like and simply read from that memory.”
“You didn’t sound the words out?”
“I couldn’t…they wouldn’t stay in one place.” He held a white pine branch out of the way for her. And, for the first time on their trek, met her eyes. “I’m dyslexic.”
She caught the branch. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s no big deal.” He charted them around a grouping of birch and along a bouldered area. “When I looked out the window of the plane, I did a mental calculation of the road to the river and then to the lookout tower—it’s something I do every time we fly. It helps keep my mind off… Well—”
“Your stomach? Motion sickness? That’s why you like to sit in the cockpit.”
He glanced at her. Gave her a one-sided smile. “Actually, not really. This is my second plane crash. The thought of going down literally makes me ill. I have a well-founded fear of flying.”
“Yoursecondcrash?”
She used the trees to brace herself as they climbed down a tumble of rocks. And, for a second, caught up to him.
He still wore the bandanna Hannah had given him around his head, his dark hair spiking out from it. The nearly black, dried blood caked the edge, saturated one area. He hadn’t shaved lately—maybe for a few days—and his whiskers lay rich and thick on his chin, dirt and a little blood scrubbed in, maybe from when he’d pulled Jed from the plane.
He didn’t look like a man who would let his fears manhandle him. But then, she’d done a superb job of fleeing her fears for the past decade or more, so…
“I know. Rotten luck, huh? Except last time, it was just me and Dad, out in the cold for a few hours waiting for my brothers to find us.” He turned and for a second acted like he was going to offer her his hand as she climbed up a rather large boulder, then thought again.
But he watched, as if a sentry, as she scrabbled up, hoisting herself onto the boulder, then scooting up behind him the rest of the way.
See. She was just fine, thank you.
“Where did you crash?” They stood on another overlook, and yes, in the air, she smelled water, although she heard nothing of the rushing she’d expect with a river.