A Thousand Heartbeats

“What’s that?” I gasped.

Lennox took a few seconds, hands flat on the floor of the cave. “Earthquake,” he said. “Get up.”

I raced behind him to the mouth of the cave, yelping when I fell forward as the ground pitched beneath my feet.

Lennox caught me, bringing me upright. He looked at me with wild eyes. “If this goes on for too long, it can crack the mountain. We could get trapped in here. We have to run.”

“Run where?”

He pointed. “Remember the patch of trees? We’ll stand next to that first tree and hope it doesn’t fall. Hold my hand, and do not let go. You hear me, Annika?”

I nodded, looking at the tree. “This is possible,” I murmured.

“Run!”

He led the way, and once we made it to the tree, he placed me between himself and the trunk. I looked back at the cave, only able to find where we’d been because I could see the faint glow of our fire.

His eyes were whipping left and right, darting around the tree, looking up. The ground was still moving, and I widened my stance, gripping the tree with one arm and Lennox with the other. I kept my eyes trained on our shelter, hoping we’d be able to get back to it. We weren’t going to survive out here.

“Lennox!” I pointed to the cave, watching as a river of rocks tumbled down, covering most of the entrance. I thought I could still see a glow from the fire, but I wasn’t sure if it was real or if I was just hoping.

Lennox pulled me to the left, holding me tight. I felt another tremor as one of the neighboring trees fell inches away from where we were standing. I stared aghast at where it had landed, realizing I’d have broken a leg or worse had he not moved me. How many times had he saved me now? His eyes went back to watching for danger while I scanned to see if the cave was still open.

The ground shook a little more violently, and Lennox tripped, falling into me. I took the opportunity to hold him close. I needed him to know that, as much as he had me, I had him.

That one jerk of the ground seemed to be the grand finale of a very disturbing show, and the earth stopped moving under my feet.

Lennox kept me in his arms, and I kept him in mine, staying still another moment longer. I was breathless with both fear and relief. It was over, and we were both, somehow, still alive.

His eyes came down to mine, drops of water coming off his messy hair in steady streams. His chest was pressed to mine, and I could feel his heart beating wildly. He swallowed hard, then looked back over his shoulder.

“It’s there,” I said, pointing to the cave. “I think we can get back in.”

“You can see it better. You lead,” he said, and I took his hand, moving us back in the direction of the cave. The ground was covered with tree limbs to cross and rocks to dodge, and the rain had made the ground so soft. We trudged on, making our way back to safety.

The entrance was a sliver of what it had been, and we both had to turn on our sides to squeeze through. We searched for cracks in the rock, signs that our safe haven might come crashing in. I was no expert, but it looked intact to me.

I went to walk deeper, but Lennox stopped me. “Take off your wet clothes here. We don’t want to soak the ground. We need somewhere dry to sleep or we’ll be sick, on top of being hungry.”

He went to pull off his boots, and tiny puddles dripped out of them when he did. I thought he’d go for his black stockings next, but instead his shirt came up and over his head. He was swift, laying it out as neatly as he could over a wide rock that was blocking our entrance. And I was left in horror, staring at the map of scars across his body.

“This really isn’t the time to be shy,” he commented when I hadn’t moved. “Besides, it’s not as if I haven’t seen you in your stays before.” His tone was meant to be playful, but I just couldn’t laugh.

Huffing, he came over and started pulling at the strings holding the front of my dress together. “This is called shock,” he said quietly. “It happens when you go through something frightening and your mind doesn’t know what to do with it. You’re all right. We’ll rest, and you’ll feel better.”

I shook my head, unable to do much more.

“It’s not that,” I whispered. His hands kept moving, loosening the strings and being careful of not touching me otherwise.

“Then what?” he asked. Not annoyed, not bothered, just curious.

I pointed to his chest. He looked down.

“Oh.” He pulled his hands back, his expression suddenly self-conscious. “I’ve grown used to them. I suppose it would be . . . jarring for someone else.” He stepped back. “Finish the rest of your laces.”

I obeyed, untying my dress.

“Boots off,” he commanded, and I lifted each leg so he could tug them free. He placed a hand around each of my calves. “Your shift is mostly dry, and so are your stockings, so they can stay.”

I shrugged out of my dress, draping it on one of the big rocks as he did.

“We need to make the fire bigger so it will last the rest of the night. And we’ll have to sit close. You can have my cape. Come on,” he insisted, taking me by the arm. “You’re absolutely in shock right now. Sit down.”

He planted me by the fire and draped his cape across me as I sat there, stunned.

If shock was what happened when too much hit your heart and your head at once, then I most certainly was there. I was in love with Lennox. I knew that now. I sat in a daze as he rushed around the cave, scraping together debris to throw on the fire. Once it looked steady, he piled more twigs and leaves to throw on it beside us and sat down, though not as close as he had been before.

“If you want me to put my shirt back on, I can. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that,” I eked out, finding the strength to face him. “It’s just . . .” I lifted a hand and pointed at the long, diagonal mark across his chest. “The biggest scar is from me.”

He looked down at it. “How do you think I feel?” he asked, bringing my attention back to him. He very gently ran a finger across the scar on my left arm, the one left when he’d retaliated.

I sighed. “I’m not upset about that one. As scary as it was at the time, it reminds me I had at least one adventure in my life.”

“And I don’t mind mine at all,” he confessed, looking down. “It’s all that ties me to you.”

A thousand heartbeats.

What . . . what did he mean by that?

“Well,” he added shyly, “it’s not the only thing I have. I, um, I kept that lock of your hair that I cut. Sometimes, when I’m low, I wrap it around my finger. Like this.”

He pulled out a piece of my hair, still dripping wet, and showed how he laced it through his fingers.

Ten thousand heartbeats.

“I kept your cape,” I confessed in a whisper. He looked up, astonished. “I use it like a blanket at night. It smells like the ocean, like you.”

“Your hair smells like rosewater,” he said softly. I watched as those eyes, blue as the clear sky, looked down at my lips, then back up, asking without a word. He leaned in closer. “Are you afraid of me?”

I shook my head and our noses brushed. “No.”

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” he whispered. “I’m a little afraid of you.”

“Then it’s lucky for us both that you’re very brave.”

His lips touched mine.

And the sound was deafening.

He reached up, putting his hand on the nape of my neck, holding me so very cautiously, and I laid a hand on his chest, no doubt touching the very scar I’d left on him. His skin was so cold, matching mine, but I felt the warmth of that kiss.

When we parted and I looked into his eyes, I saw someone new.

And, for the first time since we’d entered the cave, I felt true fear.

It was one thing for me be silently in love with him—to go home empty, with nothing but the ache of his absence. But it was another thing entirely to force him to do the same. And I was terrified of the second that moment came.