I sat on the edge of the trailer's small sofa, wrapped in Cash's oversized flannel and a pair of his boxers that I'd cinched tight. The fabric smelled like woodsmoke and clean laundry, a stark contrast to the smell of wet earth and fear still clinging to my skin.
Colt knelt at my feet, his expression uncharacteristically soft as he pressed an ice pack against my swollen ankle. "You got lucky, honey," he murmured over the roar of the rain on the trailer's roof. "Just a minor sprain. But you're shivering like a leaf."
"What are you two even doing back here?" I asked, my voice still a little raspy from the cold. "The rodeo's this weekend."
"Didn't want to go," Colt answered, not looking up from his work. "Too many rowdy, irresponsible cowboys. We usually skip that one. Guess it's a good thing we did."
The door to the trailer swung open, letting in a gust of wet air and a very drenched Cash. He froze, his eyes landing on me, then on the shirt I was wearing.
"Jeez. That's my favorite shirt," he teased, though his eyes were full of relief. He kicked off his boots and disappeared into the back, returning a few minutes later in dry basketball shorts and a tank top.
Without a word, Cash sat beside me and pulled me onto his lap. He was like a furnace, his skin radiating the kind of heat that finally started to penetrate the chill in my bones. He pressed a cool hand to my forehead, his brow furrowing.
"You're burning up," he noted. "Probably caught a cold out in that mess. We need to get her up to the house."
"Agree," Colt said, testing the temperature of my ankle. "Once it's numb enough to move, we'll make a break for it."
I leaned my head against Cash's chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulling me into a daze. I drifted in and out of their soft conversation until Colt's hand on my knee brought me back. "I think you're numb, honey. Time to go."
Cash stood up, keeping me gathered in his arms as if I weighed nothing at all. Colt grabbed a spare jacket, zipping me into it and pulling the hood over my wet hair before they braved the rain one last time.
The jog to the back porch was a blur of grey water. When we finally burst into the kitchen, the warmth of the woodstove hit me like a physical embrace. Grandma and Grandpa were already there, their faces etched with a worry that only began to fade when they saw me in Cash's arms.
"I was at the West herd," I explained through chattering teeth as Cash set me in a kitchen chair. "Twist spooked, I fell, and I took shelter under the oak near the treeline."
"That's where I found her," Colt added, leaning against the counter. "Brought her to the trailer to get her dry and checked her ankle. It's a sprain, but she's caught a chill."
"Go shower, Camelia," Grandma commanded, already moving toward the stove. "Get warm. I'll make something hot for the three of you."
I tried to stand, but my ankle gave a sharp throb of protest. Colt was there in a second, offering his shoulder for me to lean on. He walked me all the way to my room, acting as a human crutch as I hobbled up the stairs.
"I'll be right outside the door if you need me," he said firmly.
I sank into a hot bath, scrubbing the dried mud from my skin and the scent of the storm from my hair. By the time I dressed in my thickest pajamas and flopped onto my bed, the exhaustion had moved into my marrow.
I stared at the ceiling, thinking about the way Colt had found me in the dark and the way Cash had held me until I stopped shaking. They had the most improbable, perfect timing I'd ever known—and for the first time in a long time, I didn't mind being looked after.