Surviving The Storm. Heather Woodhaven

to clear the memories with it. “Are you sure about this, Aria? Last time we both barely got out.”

      * * *

      Aria fought to keep her head on straight. She had almost let the grief take over in the lobby; she couldn’t afford for it to get a foothold again. “I know,” she admitted. “And with a lot of scratches to boot.”

      He winced but she had a feeling it wasn’t from the memory. “Are you okay?”

      “Yeah. The sting in my shoulder is getting worse. It caught me off guard. I wasn’t dealing with a bullet wound last time we were in the cave.”

      “You weren’t shot.” Her teeth chattered the moment she opened her mouth.

      “I’m pretty sure the hot blood running down my arm isn’t from the snow.”

      “I know,” she responded, her voice softer but still shaking. “I saw it happen. I’m sure it hurts, but he shot the side of the cliff, and the rock broke off and...”

      “Hit me,” David finished. “So I’ll live.”

      “I hope it didn’t do as much damage as a bullet. It was too close, though.” Unbidden images of the last time they found themselves in the cave filled her mind. He was right. They had barely escaped and now he was...thicker. “I am beginning to wonder if we should’ve opted for taking our chance in the parking lots,” she said and reached out to find him. Her fingertips found his denim shirt—presumably his chest, judging by how tall she knew him to be. It was maddening to be in the dark and not be able to turn on a light. She moved her hands apart, searching, until they found his arms.

      “Uh... Aria, what are you doing?”

      “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to cuddle.” She slid her hands up and over the outside of his arms, careful to only touch the front of his shoulder to avoid his injury. “It’s just that you’re...well, much wider than last time.”

      “All part of the job,” he blurted out.

      Aria knew manual labor built solid men, but her own father was never so broad. “I guess,” she replied. “I’m a little worried you won’t fit anymore.” Another rush of water flooded in and soaked the back of her knees. Her hands shook from the chill. David was much taller, but the wave had to have reached the middle of his shins. He had to be feeling the effects of the cold water as well.

      “Maybe we should double back,” David suggested. “He could be gone by now.”

      “What if the other gunman sees us?”

      “Fine. We try the tunnel, but you’ve made me a little concerned that I might get stuck. If I so much as feel rock scraping my shoulder, I’m backing out. Want me to pull out my phone?”

      They heard a slap of water, then another. It didn’t sound like waves. Was the gunman in the cave? Surely not. He’d be in the same predicament they were. He was likely outside of it, though. Instinct prompted Aria to reach her hands out and find David’s.

      Her hands moved over his wrist. She felt his hot breath on her forehead and wanted to jump a foot back but remained frozen. They both stood still—aside from their shivering—and quiet. Each minute seemed like an hour in the frigid water. When she was confident she didn’t hear any more slaps, it was all she could do not to run out of the cave. But even if she tried, she knew the force of the incoming tide would bounce them around the small rocky entrance. They wouldn’t make it back out without getting slammed into the rock walls.

      They needed to find the tunnel now. Because every other option meant severe injury...or worse.

       FOUR

      David moved only when the tide surged, in case there was a gunman waiting outside, listening. He doubted there’d be anyone, though, judging by the depth of the water. High tide was coming fast.

      Aria’s hand remained on his wrist, pulling. Her slow movements complemented each gush of water. She was graceful, just as she had been the last time they thought they were doomed. Only then, they had used their phones to find the other exit, and didn’t have two men out to kill them.

      She grunted and jerked his wrist up a foot. Ah, she’d found the ledge. He climbed up after her, relieved to be out of the water. She spun around, trembling. David pulled her in close and squeezed his arms around her. “You’re freezing.”

      He felt her nod against his chest, but the shaking lessened only a bit. His heart was certainly shaking more, though.

      “They can’t see us now unless they come all the way in,” she whispered. He didn’t trust himself to answer. His shoulder stung. He was angry at the situation and confused by this woman that still made his heart ache.

      She tugged on his wrist again, then let go. He missed her touch the moment she left. A small glow erupted from her hand. Her phone was on, but she was covering most of the screen with her other hand. It was enough to see the second crevice deep within the cave. The one they would need to escape. Shuffling, they made their way through. So far, so good.

      “Duck,” she ordered.

      He dropped to his knees, the hard, slimy rock pressing into his palms. Yes, he remembered this place well, but mostly the kisses, not the emergency exit route. His shoulder chose that moment to smart again. The frustration returned and he almost welcomed it—maybe it’d help keep him focused. His fingers accidentally brushed against her calf. Her skin felt like ice.

      “Why’d you stop moving?” he asked.

      “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her voice was husky, filled with emotion. She had to be thinking about George again. Aria was a smart woman, brilliant—a visionary even—but she led with her heart more often than logic, and she kept it all to herself until she burst. He loved the way her mind worked during the times she did open up, but he could never anticipate when an emotional tidal wave was coming and would take charge.

      He suspected it was the exact reason she’d said she needed space after she got his card. He still hated himself for telling her his feelings through a love letter. He’d intended for it to be romantic, though, and a keepsake she would cherish and show their children someday. He scoffed. A bad decision only trumped by their phone conversation shortly after she said she’d received it.

      He had expected her to gush with returned feelings of love and instead she’d said she needed space. The word still made him cringe, but hanging up on her had effectively closed any chance they had at a future. He’d tried to apologize in person, driving the six hours from his job in Northern California to Portland, only to find her gone from her apartment. He didn’t give up, though, until he found her parents’ house also empty, a for-sale sign posted in their yard.

      And now he was letting his own feelings cloud his thoughts.

      “Keep moving,” he pressed. “I’ll tell you if I’m not fine.”

      “That sharp curve and rise is coming.”

      He took a deep breath. Last time they’d emerged with long lacerations etched on their foreheads. They’d been prescribed healthy doses of penicillin. Their parents, there for a Christian construction workers conference, had lectured them both, despite the fact that David was a twenty-two-year-old man at the time. When he had pointed that tidbit out, his mother snapped, “Once a parent, always a parent.”

      David supposed the darkness wasn’t helping keep the memories at bay. He trailed her and tried to keep his head down low in preparation for the curve. A flicker of light crossed the surface of the rock directly underneath his hand. They were almost out. “If those guys don’t kill us, when our parents find out we did this again, they’re going to want to try.”

      She remained silent—either she hadn’t heard him or she didn’t think his attempt at humor was funny. He pressed forward until he saw the sky.

      Aria