Page 4 of Mountain Defender

“I know you like the dogs,” I reply quickly, forcing a brittle smile. “But?—”

“No.” He touches my shoulder, his heat searing into my skin. “I like seeingyou, Ror. The dogs are just a bonus.”

I keep spinningGage’s words in my head.

He likes seeingme.

He doesn’t feel obligated.

He doesn’t want to stop coming.

And right before he left, he said he’d be back tomorrow morning to fix a loose plank on the front step. “I have to get to a team meeting,” he explained, “or I’d do it now. But I don’t want to see you get hurt. Will you use another door until I take care of it?”

So he cares about me, to some extent.

Practicality tells me it’s strictly friendship. That it’s no different from me wanting to spend time with Isla during the rare times she can get back to Vermont or I can travel to Texas.

It’s entirely possible that Gage likes the break in his day, and that’s one of the reasons he comes here. I know he splits his time between working remotely for a company that designs flight simulators, something he’s uniquely qualified for as a formerNight Stalker with the Army, and taking on jobs with Green Mountain Guardians.

So maybe this is kind of a down-time, of sorts. It’s low pressure—play with the dogs, hose out the kennels, do some basic repair work—which sounds a lot less stressful than his other responsibilities.

I just wish…

No.

There’s no point in wishing. Wishing is for rainbows and pennies on the ground and four leaf clovers. It’s for tossing a coin in a fountain, but deep down knowing it’s all a hopeful illusion.

I spit out my toothpaste and look into the bathroom mirror, taking a moment to inspect my reflection. Most days, I can look at myself without really thinking about it. I focus on the individual features—button nose, olive green eyes, lips a touch too full, shiny hair someone once referred to as the color of a raven’s wing—but never the whole of it.

But tonight, I let my gaze wander to the scars.

First the one on my jaw, about five inches long, still slightly raised and pink even after twenty years.

Then the one at my hairline that cuts down to my eyebrow. One Halloween in college, a guy asked me if I was supposed to be a wizard. “But the scar’s in the wrong spot,” he informed me, “You should really fix the makeup so it’s in the right place.”

If only it was that easy.

But truthfully, most days I don’t think about the scars. I’m too busy with other things. It’s just tonight, in the aftermath of my conversation with Gage, that I’m bothered by them.

I can’t help wondering how it would be if I looked different.

Would I have gathered up the courage to ask Gage over for dinner instead of settling for these brief afternoon visits?

Would I be confident enough to wear pretty clothes and makeup instead of trying to wear whatever attracts the least notice?

Would I go out in Bliss to actually meet people?

“Ugh.” I make a face in the mirror, wrinkling my nose and baring my teeth. “Stop being such a baby.”

At my feet, Toby whines. His brown eyes look up at me pleadingly. At half-past eleven, he’s more than ready to snuggle into bed—his warm body on one side of me, Elmore on the other.

“Fine,” I tell him. “The pity party is over.”

I swear, even though he’s a dog and can’t respond, his expression tells me he approves.

“Yes, I know. There’s no point wishing for things that can’t happen.” Patting my leg, I signal for him to follow me out of the bathroom. “And anyway, I have plenty to be thankful for. You guys. The other dogs. This house. Isla. A friend in Gage.”

Once I get into the bedroom, Elmore springs up from the floor and trots over to the bed. His tail wags at a blinding speed.