Free Please Remain Calm by Courtney Summers Page B

running my hands through my hair and smiling like an idiot, which feels like asking for it, but I can’t stop. I watch Jess pinch the top of her hand. As soon as he lets go of her skin, it jumps back into place.
    “You’re not dehydrated,” he says. “What’ve you been drinking?”
    “River water.”
    “Well. Not the best thing you could’ve done. Miracle you’re not sick. If you do get sick, I’ve got something I can give you. Can you stand?”
    “Yeah.”
    She struggles to her feet one-handed and I get stupid and try to help her, but I end up grabbing the wrong parts of her to do it. She yelps and her knees buckle, but between me and Jess, we get her upright. We navigate her through the narrow space, passing a wide-eyed Ainsley, who sits on her knees on the pullout sofa.
    Outside, Sloane lays on the ground. Jess digs some of his clothes out of his pack and bundles them up, tucking them into Sloane’s armpit. Cary did it a different way, when we had to do this at the school. Jess sits on the ground next to her, grabs her arm with both hands, and puts his foot against the clothes. He starts to pull her arm toward him. The pain of it startles Sloane, makes her half-rise, her body desperate to get away from this, so they have to reposition and start again. The second time, she clenches her teeth and moans. Sweat dots her forehead and tears leak out of her eyes and then her shoulder
pops
back into place.
    Jess pats her face and says, “Good girl …”
    He ends up making a sling for her out of a belt, of all things. He hangs it around her neck, makes a figure eight, and puts her wrist through the bottom loop. By then, she’s exhausted, her eyes not tracking anything, but staying stubbornly open.
    “Okay, let’s get you up,” Jess says. “You can make use of that bed in there …”
    “But—Rayford. We have to—Rhys?”
    “It’s okay,” I tell her. “We’re okay.”
    We get her up. Her face goes a scary shade of white and her eyes roll back. Jess seems to anticipate it, gets her in his arms. Carries her with the ease I imagine he must’ve carried me from the river. I follow him in. He maneuvers his way back and eases Sloane down on the bed. She stirs a little, but curls into the mattress. No one refuses that kind of comfort, not in these kinds of times. There’s a privacy curtain, and he pulls it closed, ushering me out even though what I want to do is be with her, next to her. I want to put my hands on her face again. I want to be sure she’s really there.
    Jess sits down on the couch and pulls Ainsley toward him. He looks at me and says, softly, “You lucky son of a bitch.”

 
    Later, I find Jess outside, staring into the woods. It’s chilly. I cross my arms.
    “She’s going to be down a couple days,” he tells me. “If she can get moving sooner, then we’ll do that, but for now, she needs rest and food.”
    “Yeah, she does,” I say.
    “I set the trips. I think we should all stay inside, though, while we’re here. Lay low.” He looks like he’s tracking something in the dark. I squint, but I don’t see anything.
    “What is it?”
    After a long moment, he turns to me.
    “Nothing.”
    I look at him and I know how denied he must feel of his own happy ending and I don’t think he hates me all the way for mine, but he must a little.
    “Stop staring,” he says.
    I flush. “Sorry.”
    “So you got a gun now. If she lets you have it.”
    “You want the knife back?”
    “Keep it. Why don’t you go on in, check on Ainsley? I’ll be there in a little bit.” Then he lies, or at least I think he does. “I just want to be sure it’s safe.”
    “Okay.” I hesitate. “Hey, I don’t think I said it—thanks for pulling me out of the river.”
    He doesn’t look at me.
    “Guess it had to happen.”
    I go back inside. Ainsley is still curled up on the couch, but she’s occupied with a coloring book and a pack of crayons we found under the driver’s seat. She was happy about it,