Free Icebound by Julie Rowe Page A

and stared at his boots. “I hate this.”
    “What?”
    “Waiting.”
    She put her hands on her hips. “You’re a fixer, aren’t you?”
    “A fixer? For what, your car? The plumbing?”
    “No. People.”
    “I wish. I can’t even fix myself.”
    “Can anyone?”
    He looked at her. “I suppose not.”
    “I rely on my family and friends to keep me honest.”
    “Friends, yeah, but family…” He shook his head. “Not mine.”
    “You’ve got lots of brothers and sisters, surely there’s one you—”
    “No.”
    He had no one? “Your parents?”
    What came out of his mouth was a grim parody of a laugh. “My mother never made a move without my father’s permission, and my father never gave it. To any of us.”
    She swallowed a mouthful of regret. No one should have to grow up like that. “I’m sorry.”
    His shoulders dropped and he seemed to fall in on himself. “Yeah. Me too.”
    Tom was wrong. This was something only he could fix, but first she had to get him to admit he could. “Do me a favor? Check Stan’s vitals.”
    “Handling me again, Em?”
    She picked up the thermometer and held it out. “Would you expect any less?”
    He stood and took it. “Nope.” He turned to Stan, then turned back and enveloped her in a hug. “Thanks.”
    “Talk to him,” she whispered, hugging him back. “About anything, just talk. Let him hear your voice and know he’s safe.”
    “Okay, I can do that.” Tom let her go, but not before kissing her temple. A soft, lingering press of lips that made her breathing speed up ridiculously fast.
    He backed up a step then said to Stan, “Okay, big guy, time to check your temperature.”
    She watched Tom talk to Stan quietly, checking his vitals, telling him about the merry search he’d led the crew on, how even Emilie tried to go look for him.
    He rested one hand on Stan’s shoulder. That’s when she realized Tom’s face was wet with tears.
    Watching him mop the moisture from his face, not trying to hide the tears, not ashamed of showing his feelings, Emilie understood something fundamental about Tom. He wasn’t afraid of showing vulnerability, something David would never have done. He’d been in competition with his friends for everything. Work or play, it didn’t matter. While her husband might have watched over a friend in hospital, he wouldn’t have done it with his emotions hanging out. Shedding tears was the wife, mother or sister’s job.
    She’d thought the two men were the same, but now the differences seemed vast. A relief in some ways, in others…she wasn’t sure how to feel. She thought she had Tom all figured out—just another intelligent adventure addict with a side order of leadership skills to make the mix interesting.
    But he was more than that. Much more.
    As the hours passed, Emilie watched Tom’s face grow pale, his eyes sunken and almost black as he stood vigil over his friend. Steadily, Stan’s body temperature rose until it was once again within the normal range.
    The blackening tips of his bandaged hands worried her. Would there be long-term consequences due to his mishap? Nerve damage, infection and amputation loomed large on her radar, but the effects of brain swelling also needed to be investigated.
    She could only do so much with the equipment on hand.
    Tom knew it. He stood next to Stan, rubbing the other man’s shoulder, when a weak, wavering voice broke the silence in the clinic.
    “Hey, what’s with the frown?”
    “Stan?” A huge grin spilled across Tom’s face, transforming him, giving him new life. For a moment, he just stared. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Looking at you for a few hours straight would be hard on anyone.”
    Stan frowned. “A few hours?” He glanced around. “Why am I in Club Med?”
    Emilie arrived on the other side of his gurney with her digital thermometer and stuck it into his ear. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
    The question seemed to confuse Stan. “Breakfast?” He