Page 32 of The Triple Play

“We were lucky enough to secure funding through Vancouver Island emergency services. They get a small amount from municipal taxes, and the rest from the provincial government to cover wages.”

Trip chooses that moment to bark, and I glance over to see him standing by the door. “I’ll let you out in a second, buddy.” I shovel my last bite of oatmeal into my mouth, then stand up. “We should take a look outside, anyway.”

I open the door, Griffin right behind me, and Trip runs outside, beelining for the trees surrounding the cabin and lifting his leg almost immediately.

Griffin chuckles. “Guess we forgot that when we fed him this morning.”

He walks ahead of me, over to where the tree fell across the driveway. “Damn, this is worse than I thought. I couldn’t tell how big a tree it was when we got here last night, but that’s not exactly small.”

“What isn’t?” Denver’s voice comes from behind us. “Oh, shit.” He lets out a low whistle as he walks over to join us and the three of us stand there, surveying the mess.

He scratches his head and scrunches his face as he looks at me. “Yeah, I don’t think we’re getting your car out today, Pix. We’ll have to come back for it when we can get in with a chainsaw to cut this up.”

“Great,” I mutter, trying to think through how I’ll manage without a car for who knows how long.

Griffin turns back to the cabin. “Why don’t we get packed up and start the hike down to our truck. We can drop you off at home, then when we’re off shift, we’ll come up with a plan for getting your vehicle.”

I can sense Griffin wants to get back to work, helping people who truly need it. Which makes me immediately feel guilty for taking their time, even though the decision to call in for help was not mine.

“Right. Of course, you’re needed elsewhere.” I spin on my foot to head back to the cabin.

“Liv, wait.”

But I ignore Griffin and quicken my steps, focusing on the cabin ahead. If I can just get inside, we can leave.

I don’t notice the rock covered in slippery wet moss until my foot lands on it. My ankle rolls before I can react, and the ground rushes up too fast for me to catch myself.

I go down hard, landing on the soaking wet ground. The pain hits a second later, radiating sharply through my ankle and up my leg. A small helpless sound slips out of me before I can stop it.

Trip is there almost instantly, whining and nosing at me. I grab onto his collar, more for comfort than anything else, my fingers tightening as I try to steady my breathing. Damn, this hurts.

“Olivia!” Denver’s shout is full of alarm, and I hear pounding footsteps as they run over to me.

“Shit.” Griffin drops down beside me without hesitation, the wet ground soaking into his jeans. His hands move over me gently but quickly, like he needs to make sure I'm in one piece. “Hey, hey, take a breath, baby. Where does it hurt?”

I register the pet name, but any reaction is drowned out by the throbbing pain in my foot.

“My ankle,” I manage to say, still blinking back tears.

“I’ve got her.” Denver’s voice is unusually somber, and when he crouches in front of me, I look up to find his eyes already on mine. They’re steady, focused, and full of concern. It makes something in my chest pull tight in a way that has nothing to do with pain.

“I’m going to help you up,” he says gently. “Then I’ll carry you inside, okay?”

All I can do is nod. I let go of Trip, and Griffin moves slightly out of the way. One of his hands stays braced lightly at my back, like he’s not quite ready to let go. Denver slides his hands under my arms and takes most of my body weight as I stand up. But the moment I put any pressure on my foot, pain flares even higher than before.

I suck in a breath, my hands landing on Denver’s chest, fingers curling into his shirt.

“I know,” he murmurs, closer now. “I’ve got you.” Then he swoops me up into his arms and moves toward the cabin.

Behind us, I hear Griffin call for Trip, and I glance over Denver’s shoulder to see Griffin’s inscrutable face focused on me.

When we get inside, I’m shivering, though I’m not sure how much of it is from the cold and how much is from the pain in my ankle. I can feel the pressure from the swelling, pushing against my boot.

Denver lowers me carefully onto the sofa, his hands lingering just a second longer than necessary at my waist, like he’s making sure I’m steady before letting go.

“Grab an ice pack,” he says, glancing at Griffin. But Griffin is already moving, grabbing a disposable ice pack from their packs. Then he settles down beside me on the floor and activates the quick-cooling gel pack.

Denver kneels next to Griffin on the floor, drawing my attention away from registering just how close Griffin is to me. “We need to get your boot off, Pixie. It’s gonna hurt, and I’m sorry about that.”