a reason to live(51)
“Sounds good to me. I forgot to eat dinner last night,” I answered as she headed for the trap door.
Mia leaned over and tugged, but it didn’t open. She tried to turn the lock, but it wouldn’t budge. “Shit. It’s stuck. I can’t open it.”
“What do you mean you can’t open it?”
“What do you think I mean?” Mia laughed then started patting her pockets. “I’ll call Jake and have him come and rescue us.”
Her hands came up empty and she looked over the railing. “Dammit, I left my phone in the Jeep. Do you have yours?”
I’d started searching my clothes the minute she looked for hers and came up empty as well. “In my backpack,” I groaned.
“Did you send a text to Shane telling him where you were? If you did, he might come looking soon.”
“No. I don’t want to play games. He knows I left because I needed space, so I’m not going to start lying now.”
“Smart. But now we’re stuck.”
I looked over the railing and figured it had to be a thirty-foot drop. Not getting out that way. When I turned around, I found Mia sitting on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“I figure we have about three hours before Max comes looking. Might as well get comfortable.”
“Are you sure he’ll come?”
“As sure as the sun will light the sky for about twenty hours today. He checks in every few hours. When I don’t answer, he’ll assume the worst and come looking.”
I dropped to the floor and stretched out my legs.
“Just how much trouble have you caused?”
Mia shrugged, then raised her hand and brought her thumb and forefinger almost together to indicate a tiny bit. Then her fingers slowly widened.
“That much?”
“I have a gift,” she grinned. “But Jenn, Max’s cousin Jack’s wife, has worse luck. She was attacked and almost killed by two men. Father and son, if you can believe it.”
“Whoa.”
“Exactly.”
Mia was wrong. It didn’t take Max three hours to find us; it took him two. And when he arrived, Shane was in tow.
We’d talked about everything under the sun and were lying on our backs searching the clouds for shapes when we heard an engine racing up the meadow. Before we could get to our feet to see who was there, doors slammed and two voices started shouting.
“Mia?”
“Sage?”
“Up here,” Mia shouted then looked over the railing. “Hey, Mad Max. I thought it would take you longer to figure out I was in trouble.”
“Jesus, woman,” Max growled. “I’m puttin’ a GPS on your ass.”
I stood and looked over the railing, telling myself to act natural. No games, just be yourself. I looked at Max first and giggled. His hair looked like he’d been tugging on it. Poor man. After the stories I’d heard today, I understood him better.
Then I looked at Shane and smiled. “Hey.”
“You okay?” he asked with concern written on his face.
“Not a scratch on either one of us. We came up here to look at the view and the trap door stuck. We left our phones in the Jeep so we couldn’t call for help.”
“Probably rusted from the rain,” Max mumbled. “I’ll get the WD-40.”
“Take your time, we’re not going anywhere,” Mia shouted.
“Pain in my ass,” Max grumbled, stomping his way to the back of his truck. Mia turned and winked at me.
“You totally piss him off on purpose,” I whispered, remembering what Maxine had said. Her smile widened.
Max pulled the lubricant from the truck and tossed it to us. Mia sprayed the lock and low and behold, it opened. When she lifted the door, Shane shouted, “Mia first.”
She snorted.
“I guess everyone looks out for you and your disability,” I giggled.
“I think it has more to do with me falling and taking you off the ladder than it does about my welfare.”
I had to admit, I thought that as well, and my heart skipped a beat.
Mia made her way down while I watched. Max stood at the bottom, his eyes wired as if he was ready for anything. Once at the bottom, he hauled her off the rungs of the ladder, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him a deep kiss for his troubles.
My smile fell as I watched how in love they were. I wanted that, desperately, and my vision clouded with emotion as I tried to look away. But Shane stepped into my view, holding out his hand before I could. There was something about the action—like he was reaching out for help—and I immediately turned and came down the ladder, his unspoken order directing me. When I’d climbed down far enough, I was surprised when he grabbed me by my waist. I allowed him to help me rather than arguing I could manage, and swore he whispered, “Good girl,” as he lowered me to the ground.