Show Me the Way (Fight for Me 1)

Almost frantic, Rex pulled me into his arms, his face pressed to my neck. “Fuck, Rynna. How’s it possible you make me feel this way?”

A scream jolted us out of our bubble. Our heads whipped around to see the last second of Frankie tripping, her toe caught on an exposed root. She flew forward, her little body tumbling down a rocky incline that sloped down on the far side of where she’d been playing.

Dust flew. Before it’d even settled, Rex was on his feet, sprinting that direction, and I was right on his heels.

“Frankie,” he shouted, voice panicked.

Anxious energy stirred the air.

He bolted for her, taking the fastest route, straight over a slippery ridge of wet rocks. Water splashed beneath his shoes as he jumped from one large boulder to another then down to the dirt trail, at her side faster than I could process the entire scene.

“Frankie,” he shouted.

Two seconds later, I was there. My heart pitched and churned. Terrified, I peered over his shoulder where he dropped to his knees at her side.

Frankie was sprawled face down in the dirt, head just barely missing a sharp rock where she skidded to a stop.

“Oh God,” I whimpered.

And Rex.

Rex was shaking everywhere. Shock slammed his body. These visible, palpable ripples of horror that seized his body. He kept screaming, “Frankie!”

Agony.

It blistered from him, impaling me with each harsh breath he heaved from his lungs.

Uncontrollably, he shook, his hands a mess when he cautiously set them on her back. “Frankie Leigh, Oh God. Baby girl, are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”

Frankie moaned, and my breath caught when she flopped over to stare up at the sky. My eyes rushed over her, searching for injuries, while Rex sat up on his knees with his hands rushing over her without touching, as if he were searching her for those same wounds but scared he might make it worse.

Frankie blinked toward the heavens, her voice raspy when she spoke. “Whoa. You see that, Daddy? That was the biggest fwip I ever did.”

Relief heaved from my lungs in an audible gush, adrenaline draining fast. I dropped to my knees just as Rex was gathering her in his arms.

Where I felt relief, Rex seemed to be in . . . shock.

Frenzied, he pulled her against him, hugging her tight, refusing to let her go.

I inched closer to them. Dread sank into my spirit when I glanced at Rex again. When I glimpsed his eyes.

Turmoil and fear and desperation.

I wanted to reach out and touch him. Tell him it was okay. Promise him that Frankie was fine. Erase whatever had condemned him to this kind of torture. But he was hugging her to his chest, his jaw clenched so tightly I was sure he was fighting tears. Fighting whatever chaos raged inside him.

So instead, I turned my attention on Frankie. Gently, I reached out and brushed back the tangle of hair that had fallen across her eyes. A slick of mud covered her from her chin up the side of her face, but I didn’t see any blood.

“Are you hurt anywhere, Frankie?” My words were scratchy.

Frankie crooked her arm, showing off the flaming-red scrape on her elbow. The shallow wound was quickly filling with blood. “I fink a need a Band-Aid.”

Rex winced.

I looked back up the trail, realizing she couldn’t have rolled more than four feet. That she’d just tripped. Something little kids did all the time.

Taking a chance, I set a hand on Rex’s arm, hoping it would break through the terror that tremored through his body. Muscles twitching. Jaw clenching. “Hey . . . she’s okay. She’s okay. She didn’t fall far. It was just an accident. She’s okay. It’s okay.”

He didn’t respond. He just shifted and climbed to standing, keeping her cradled in his arms. His cautious movements seemed at complete odds with the intimidating power of his stance, with the almost vicious steps he took when he headed straight for the trail.

Unsure of what to do, I rushed and grabbed Milo’s leash where he’d scampered just off the trail. I followed close behind, surprised when Rex headed directly for his truck instead of going back to the picnic spot.

He loaded Frankie in her booster seat, peppering a bunch of kisses on her forehead and murmuring, “We’re going to get you checked out, baby girl. You’re fine. I promise, you’re fine.”

He said it as if he were trying to convince himself.

Still, he said absolutely nothing to me when I slid into the cab.

He turned over the engine. It roared to life. We rode in silence back in to town, tension wound tight as the truck jostled back over the crude path. He drove straight to the emergency room where we’d taken Frankie that night weeks ago.

Somehow, it felt as if years had passed since that night.