Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“I think so.”
I put out a hand to steady myself. I don’t like the sound of that. Any uncertainty sends my heart racing. “Is this really worth risking your life for?”
“I can take loops of rope around my shoulder. As I go along, I can secure one end to a thick branch and tie the other end around my belt. Every few branches, I’ll switch it up and tie another one on. That way, I wouldn’t fall more than a few feet even if I did slip.”
“Are you confident in your knots?”
“I’ll make it so they’re foolproof.”
I still don’t like the sound of that, but Thaddius seems determined, so all I can do is support him. “What can I do?”
His eyes change, turning that soft butterscotch that is half-surprise and half-raw emotion. He didn’t think I was just going to watch from the window, did he? No, he didn’t. That’s why he came in here and told me all this. He wanted me to help. He needs my help. This might be a small thing, but I’ve never truly felt needed like this before.
“I’ll go up on a ladder. If you could hold it for me, I’d appreciate it. And spot for me. I won’t be able to see much when I’m in the tree with all the leaves and branches getting in my face. So if the chicken starts moving, I’ll need you to tell me. And maybe stand with a blanket at the bottom, in case it falls. I want it to have a soft landing.”
“Of course. I can do that. Just let me get changed.”
In his room, I throw on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I also scoop the quilt off the bed. I hear the door thump, and since it takes me a minute to find the pair of shoes I thrifted, Thaddius is outside long before I get out there. After I burst into the yard wearing the darn shoes, which are about a size too small and pinch like crazy but are at least closed-toed and not flip-flops or soggy cowboy boots which still haven’t dried out from the torrential dousing, I see that he’s already got loops of white rope around both his shoulders and neck. He’s also carrying a huge ladder like it’s nothing. Like it’s really all nothing, even though he’s about to perform a daring and dangerous rescue.
And that—all for the love and safety of a bird that most people consider to be a throwaway animal—is what makes my pulse thunder wildly.
Anyone who ever said this man doesn’t have a heart is so dead wrong.
Thaddius props the ladder up against the thick trunk of the tree. Then, he toes off his rubber boots and pulls off his socks. I stare at him blankly. “You’re going up there in bare feet?”
“I think that’s best. More traction that way, or at least I can feel what I’m doing.”
I lean in, and he goes perfectly still. I swear he doesn’t even take a breath. My heart knocks against my ribs. Instead of touching him like I want to do—as if I could cast a safety spell or assure myself that he’s going to remain whole and put together with nothing broken or wrecked—I finger the rope. It seems sturdy. Like it will hold his weight and not snap in half when it’s his life on the line.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay,” he repeats, and his voice is deeper than I’ve ever heard it. We’re frozen for a second, standing so close to each other, neither of us moving. My fingers are still on the rope.
With a shaky breath, I lower my arm and step back. “I’ll hold the ladder for you whenever you’re ready.”
He’s ready in a few seconds. I watch him go up, but there’s no admiring his body today. I’m too afraid to even notice what a great vantage point I have from the bottom of the ladder. I don’t want to have a great vantage point. I just want this to be over and Thaddius to be back safe on the ground.
The ladder shakes with his every step, but then soon, the weight is gone completely, and that’s even more terrifying. With a gasp, I curse myself as I realize I forgot the blanket in the house. “I forgot the quilt inside!”
“It’s okay,” he says. “Go run and get it. I’ll wait.”
I hope he’s serious. “Tie yourself onto that branch. If you fall from there, it’s still a good twenty feet down.”
“Alright. I’ll do that while you get the quilt.”
At least he doesn’t argue with me. I race back to the house. It doesn’t matter that my feet are burning or that I’m sweating in the T-shirt. None of my discomforts matter at this moment.
Even after I’m back at the bottom of the tree with the quilt draped over my arm, it takes me a few minutes to realize that it’s not just about not wanting to see something gruesome happen. I’m not a trainwreck kind of person, so I’d definitely look away. It’s that I don’t want to see Thaddius get hurt. I want him to be safe and well. If I could do something to protect him, I would. And if I could save that chicken myself so he didn’t have to put his life in danger, I would too. I think this is how people feel when they care about someone. The burn in my chest isn’t just the friendly kind of care either.