Fall With Me(24)
Author: Bella Forrest

I lie there for a moment, dust rising up around me. A few of the campers have gathered around and their faces take up my entire line of vision, which is slowly draining of color.

“Jill? Are you okay?”

I blink. The pain in my head is not enormous, but it’s insistent and I know that trying to sit up—which I very much want to do—would not be a good idea. The colors continue to bleed away, until it looks like we’ve been transported back in time and are in a black and white movie.

“How odd,” I say, though my voice is barely a whisper.

“Go get help!” someone yells, and someone yells something back, and both their voices sound very far away. There is a sensation of falling, of dropping away, and suddenly, all I can see is a very narrow tunnel of sky. It would be easy enough to resist, I think, but it also, in a strange way, feels good, so instead of fighting it, I give in to the sense of falling, I let go, curious to see where I’ll land.

Nowhere, apparently, because it feels like only a second has passed when I reopen my eyes. Color has returned, though the colors seem harsh and a little too sharp. Griffin is there now too, leaning over me.

“I’m okay,” I say, trying to brush his arm off of me. Sitting up now is painful but possible, but as I start to, he puts his hand on my shoulder and holds me down.

“You shouldn’t get up yet,” he says. “You just knocked yourself out. You might have a concussion.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him. “I don’t have a concussion. How long was I out for?”

“A minute, maybe. A little less.”

“I’m fine, then. Let me sit up.”

He looks at me skeptically and for a second I think he’s not going to let me, but then he does, rocking back on his heels.

“I didn’t realize I’d turned so clumsy,” I say. I glance around to see the worried looks on the campers’ faces and I feel bad for scaring them. “Though this is a good lesson to always carry a First Aid kit with you,” I tell them. I touch the back of my head where a small lump is starting to form.

“Come on,” Griffin says, leaning down. He picks me up easily, as though I were nothing more than a small child. “Let’s get you back.”

“You can put me down,” I say. “I bumped my head, not broke my leg.”

“Just think of it as me repaying you for helping me out that first night.” He glances over his shoulder. “Hey, Brett, will you carry Jill’s pack?”

I let him take a few steps and then I twist myself from his arms, land on the ground slightly off-balance. I grab his arm to steady myself.

“Listen,” I say. “I appreciate you wanting to help me. But you carrying me back to the van because of a very minor—emphasis on minor—head injury, is just such a cliché.”

“Cliché?” He grins. “I was thinking more along the lines of romantic.”

“Oooooh,” one of the campers says. A few of them giggle.

“It’s okay. I don’t need you to be romantic with me.”

He drops his head a little, so his mouth is right by my ear. “Why do you always have to play hard to get?” he asks softly. “Let me carry you back. I want to.”

“Well, I don’t.” The pain has settled into a steady thrum that matches my pulse. It is no worse than a low-grade headache. “Really, I’m fine.”

He takes my hand. “At least let me hold your hand then. We don’t want you losing your balance again.”

He entwines his fingers around mine, his grip gentle, nothing like the vice-lock that Sean used to use whenever he’d hold my hand.

“Okay,” I say finally. “You can hold my hand until we get back to the main trail, and then you’re letting go.”

He smiles. “You’re really something else.”

Though he probably doesn’t mean it as such, I decide to take it as a compliment.

After I reassure Bill and Lorrie half a dozen times that I’m fine and don’t need to take a trip to the E.R., I go lie down for a while. I try not to replay the scene over and over again, though it’s hard not to and I feel a little embarrassed but also proud of the kids for how well they handled it.

There’s a knock at the door, and then Karen steps in. “Brett told me what happened,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just going to take a little nap and then I’ll be good to go.”

“Do you need anything? Can I make you some tea?”

“That’s okay. Thank you, though.”

She turns toward the door but then stops. “Did Griffin really carry you all the way back?”

“He tried,” I say with a smile.

A dreamy look crosses her face. “I’d totally knock my head against a rock if it meant he would carry me back to camp. I can’t believe you didn’t let him.”

“Griffin is very amicable; I’m sure if you ask him he’d be happy to carry you around.”

She gives me a curious look, as though she’s trying to decipher whether I’m joking or not. I kind of am, although knowing Griffin, he’d probably be down for doing something like that.

“Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, Karen. Thank you.”

She leaves and I let my eyes close. I don’t know if I actually fall asleep or not; it’s one of those in-between states where you could be awake or could be asleep, where you’re having dreams but still able to hear all the noises around you.

I don’t know how much times passes but then I hear another tap at the door. I pry open one eye.

“Come in,” I say.

It’s Griffin, and he comes over and sits at the edge of the bed. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.” The headache has receded to a dull ache. “Karen was just in here checking on me a little while ago. Don’t be surprised if she asks you to carry her around at some point.”

He smiles. “I’m not even gonna ask. Just prepare yourself for a few more people to come check in on you after me.” I give him a quizzical look and he touches my forehead. “Head injury, and all. You know, you want to take the proper precautions. No slipping into a coma and dying.”

“I doubt this is even a concussion. I’m actually going to get up in a few minutes.”

He tucks a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. “Eh, you don’t need to. We’ve got it covered. Karen and Allison took some of the kids swimming and the rest are out on a trail ride with Lorrie. It’s pretty quiet out there right now, actually.”