His hand swept down my back until he got a good grip on my ass, and before I could lecture him, he lifted me onto the bed, tucking me in next to him.

“Landon, you’ll hurt yourself,” I protested.

“Shut up and let me hold you.”

I did.

He lazily traced patterns on my arm, my back, my waist as I lay there, my head on his chest, listening to the utter perfection of his heartbeat. The shaking stopped, and a wave of sheer exhaustion swept over me.

“Gabe is in surgery,” I told him. “He had some internal bleeding.”

He nodded. “They told me.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Cut on my arm was pretty nasty, and I have a lovely concussion, but that’s it.” He tensed. “My board?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. It wasn’t with you.”

His arm tightened around me. “Okay. It doesn’t matter. I’ll get another one sent to the next port.”

“I’m sorry you lost your ridge.”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Me, too. We can’t make it now, can we?”

I shook my head. “We have to leave first thing in the morning to get back to port or we’ll miss the ship.” Gently pushing off him, I raised to see his face. “You okay?”

He stared up at the ceiling. “As long as Gabe is, then yeah.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know. I never imagined I would train all this time, work my ass off in planning, and then have that happen. I know it happens, I’m well aware of the statistics, but I never imagined it would happen to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, resting my chin on the scratchy material of his hospital gown. He brushed my hair back from my face, and I scrunched my nose. “I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

He huffed a small laugh, but it was big enough to tell me he’d really be all right. “You are beautiful, always have been. And you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Didn’t I? I was turning out to be the curse Penna had named me.

“I feel like there are things to say,” I whispered.

“Do you want to say them?”

Every ounce of self-preservation in my body told me to shut the hell up. But I’d never gotten far in my life by taking the safe road. “I promised God that if you lived, I’d think about us.”

His eyes widened. “And?”

“And I’m thinking.”

A slow, incredibly sexy smile spread across his face. “Okay.”

“Are you thinking?” I asked.

“Nawh. I already know.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Know what?”

“I know that I want you to stay with me tonight. The rest we can figure out tomorrow.”

I should have said no. He needed rest—well, what rest he’d get being woken up every few hours by the nurses. But the idea of leaving him so close to almost losing him was unthinkable.

“Okay. I’ll stay. Just tonight. But no kissing. Don’t even think about it.”

He grinned. “That’s a start.”

Maybe it was.

Chapter Seventeen

Landon

At Sea

“You’re looking at another five days at least,” the on-ship doc told me, putting another bandage over the seventeen neat stitches in my arm.

“And other than that?” I asked, already doing the math for the Jakarta stunt.

He typed into his computer and then looked over the screen at me. “Other than that, Mr. Rhodes, you have a clean bill of health. How did Mr. Darro fare?”

Every muscle in my body locked, including my jaw. I took a deep breath to loosen up. “He won’t be coming back with us. Too many broken bones, and he’s still recovering from surgery. But we have friends with him, and his parents are on the way to Kathmandu.”

“Well, I’m sorry you boys got into trouble. Ever think about avoiding the trouble to begin with?” he asked without looking up.

“That never did suit me,” I answered and glanced up at the clock. “If that’s all, I really need to get to class.”

“Off you go. Come back in five days and we’ll look at your arm again.”

“Four days?” I pushed.

He looked up over his glasses at me and sighed. “Four days.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

I said my good-byes and ran out of the infirmary, clutching my Civ books with my good arm. Not that the right one hurt too much, but I figured if I gave it some time off, I might get those stitches out before the next stunt.

Especially since I’d just blown the one I’d been planning for a year. It wasn’t just an accident, it was an epic failure that was no doubt going to be a great teaser for the documentary—where I would get to watch myself fail over and over again…with an audience. Unacceptable. What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t get back to Nepal until after we finished the program, and by then it would be too late to put it into the documentary. It was bad enough that I’d failed myself, but to fuck up the one thing we’d been doing for Nick was incomprehensible. I was going to have to get ahead in all my classes and then pray I could find a couple days somewhere to get back up on that ridgeline. That was the only acceptable option.

Of course the cameras had been waiting for me outside the infirmary, but at least Bobby was quick with the questions about how I was healing.

An elevator ride later, I hit the eighth deck and headed for class. Five minutes early. Even Rachel will be impressed.