Because stopping meant dying.
Chapter 19
Charlie
* * *
The pain in my feet became my entire world. What had started as sharp stings from blisters had evolved into a relentless fire. With every step, my vision blurred at the edges, and I couldn't string two thoughts together beyond hurt and can't stop, and please let this end.
But there was no end in sight. Just more barren land stretching ahead forever, and the sun’s heat punishing our bodies.
I stumbled, and a cry escaped my lips.
Mitch's gaze snapped toward me, and maybe I looked like I was about to collapse because whatever hardness had gripped his features since we’d started walking melted away.
"Jesus, Charlie." He closed the distance between us in two strides. "Why didn't you tell me you were in so much pain?"
"I—"
"Come here." He scooped me into his arms.
I gasped and pushed against his chest. "Put me down. You're already?—"
"I'm carrying you whether you like it or not." His gruff tone left no room for argument.
I couldn't fight him even if I wanted to. My resistance crumbled, and I curled against him. With his torn shirt hanging open, heat radiated from his bare skin, and his heart beat steadily beneath my ear. He started walking again, moving like a machine that couldn't be stopped.
I should have felt embarrassed. Helpless. A burden.
Instead, all I felt was relief.
And bone-deep exhaustion.
Yet I couldn't help but notice how solid his chest felt beneath my cheek, or how aware I was of every breath he took, every beat of his heart. A jagged scar ran along his collarbone, and I found myself wondering how he'd gotten it. Exhaustion had stripped away my filters, and all I could think was that Mitch Branson was carrying me through the Outback, and some traitorous part of me didn't hate it.
But how much longer could this last?
The sun had peaked overhead ages ago and begun its descent toward the horizon. The heat was finally starting to ease. But when the sun sets, we'd have a new problem—darkness. And we were still in the middle of nowhere.
"Look, over there." Mitch's voice rumbled through his chest.
I lifted my head, and he gestured with his chin toward a cluster of trees at the base of a distant ridge. "Coolibah trees. We can shelter there and get a fire going for the night."
"A fire? With what? Everything's wet." My words came out flat, defeated.
He shifted me slightly in his arms. "We'll find twigs that will burn, and I have my lighter."
"Oh. Okay, that's good." I pushed against his chest. "Put me down. I can walk."
"No. We'll get there quicker this way."
I had no idea how he was still walking, let alone carrying me, too.
The ridge seemed to take forever to reach, but Mitch never slowed. When we finally made it to the trees, the shade was instant relief from the sun.
He lowered me gently to the ground, and I collapsed against the nearest trunk. Every part of my body throbbed.
He propped the rifle against a tree and crouched beside one of the coolibah trees, running his hand along the gnarled bark. "These trees don't survive out here without water." He pulled a multi-tool from a pouch on his belt, flicked open the knife blade, and used it to dig at the base of the tree. The red dirt darkened with moisture, and the smell of damp earth filled the air.