??
“We could be under a mile of snow.”
He let his eyes close and rested his head against the seat. “We were at the edge of it. Don’t think we’re that deep.” He cast a look toward the back of the SUV. “What kind of equipment do they have in here?”
“The blanket, and I have a jug of water. There are guns and ammunition in the back.”
“Can never have enough weapons, right?”
She smiled, and a wave of emotion swept through her again. Gratitude, love, hope. “Ian, I’m so sorry—”
He lifted his hand and pressed his fingers to her lips. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” He opened his eyes and met hers. “I’m going to make it right, Savannah. I’m going to make it up to you.”
More tears pressed at the backs of her eyes. She smiled, nodded, and pressed her cheek to his.
“Water,” he said. “Pull out the jug.”
She slid back into her seat. Grabbing the jug at her feet, she settled it on the console and opened the top and helped him steady the jug as he drank.
When he finished, he said, “Drink as much as you need. We have to empty it.”
“Why?”
Ian picked up the knife she’d left in the console’s cup holder. “Because it’s going to become a digging tool.”
Savannah took a few long swallows and recapped it.
Ian tried the buttons on the driver’s door, and Savannah’s window slid down an inch. The snow was packed tight against the car. “Pour the rest out—slow at first.”
Savannah tilted the jug and poured the water into the snow, which melted instantly, giving her room to empty the jug. Ian took the empty plastic and cut away the top, leaving the bottom attached to the handle. “Voilá.”
She smiled at his less than enthusiastic expression. “What a Boy Scout.”
“So my mom said.” He straightened up in the seat with another grimace and looked around the car. “We’ll work in shifts. One of us in the back seat with the blanket, warming up, while the other shovels. We’ll chuck the snow over to the passenger’s side.”
She closed her eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Don’t think about the big picture,” he told her. “We’re living moment by moment right now.”
She nodded. “Okay.” Then she swiped the jug from his hand. “I’m taking the first shift. Get your ass back here and rest.”
Ian was drifting in and out of consciousness when Savannah yelled, “We did it!”
He opened his eyes and looked around the car. No matter how many times he’d done that over the last hour—or two, he wasn’t sure anymore—reality jabbed him in the gut again.
“Ian,” she said, sliding back to the car through the tunnel to the surface. “We did it. I’m through.”
“You did it. You’re amazing.” He must have told her that fifty times by now, but he meant it every damn time. She was bruised, bloodied, and terrified, yet she never stopped fighting, never stopped digging, even when Ian couldn’t help because he kept passing out. “What did you see? Any search parties? Any equipment? Anything?”
She leaned over him and, just as she’d done a dozen times before, rubbed his arms until warmth collected beneath the blanket. Her gaze went distant for a second before she smiled. “I don’t know. I was so excited to see sky, I slid back down here to tell you.”
He chuckled and brushed the hair back from her face. “Guess I’d better get my lazy ass up, then.”
“Hold on. Stay put a minute.” She knelt on the edge of the seat and leaned into the back. “I want to pull out some of these guns, ’cause, you know”—she faced him again, holding a Glock in one hand and a box of bullets in the other—“you can never have enough.”
He started laughing—partly because of what she said, but mostly because of the look on her face. She was bloody and dirty and pale from the cold, but she looked like a kid who’d just stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. Only the pressure of laughing stabbed pain through his head. He put a hand to his head and groaned. “Oh, shit. Don’t make me laugh, baby.”
She set the gun on his stomach and scanned his face with a frown. “Are you going to be able to climb to the top and walk out? Because don’t even think about telling me to go ahead. I’m not leaving you—”