Page 11

RORY

I can’t see his face.

It’s just black, a yawning darkness broken by two gleaming orbs of white.

Hot breath comes in heavy puffs. Sour. Garlicky. A hint of fire stings my nose.

My heart is thundering. Skipping beats. Slamming against my chest in a frantic bid to escape.

Pressure—painful, punishing, cruel—holds me still, despite my struggles.

I’m kicking. Wriggling. Bucking. Nothing works.

I try to scream but nothing comes out.

My lungs beg for air.

Panicked thoughts whirl through my head, scattered and fractured.

Get away! Leave me alone! I need to do something!

Silent words I can’t give voice to. Desperate pleas that go unanswered.

Please! I don’t want to die.

As I fight against this monster above me, my muscles grow weak. Uncoordinated. Useless.

But the dogs!

And—

Gage.

I’m not ready to leave.

There has to be something. My brain still works even though my body is failing.

After everything I’ve gone through, I’m not giving up now.

The stinking breath closes in.

A voice slithers towards me, cold and reptilian. “Did you really think you could escape?”

Then, a harsh laugh.

Pain explodes in my chest.

NO!

“Rory!”

Please, no.

“Wake up, Ror. You’re okay.”

Why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this?

“Rory. Come on, baby. Wake up. It’s just a dream.”

Through the fog of terror and pain, a warmth seeps in.

Something solid. Comforting. Smelling of pine and citrus.

“Rory, come on, come back to me.”

As I force my way out of sleep, the dream pieces fall away as reality settles in.

I’m not cold. Not in pain. Not struggling to breathe.

The touch on my shoulder is gentle.

The voice calling to me is rough with worry.

A low whimper sounds beside me. Then another.

I’m not dreaming. Not dying.

I’m alive.

Prying my eyes open, I look up at Gage’s worried face leaning over me. Lines are etched between his eyes and across his brow. His mouth is twisted in an unhappy frown. “Ror? Are you back with me?”

Hot tears run down my cheeks as I stare at him. My throat burns. “Gage?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He studies me, his gaze roving across my face. “You’re at the cabin. Safe.”

More bits of reality filter in.

I’m on the couch. The room is dim, save for the flickering of low flames in the fireplace. Gage is perched on the couch cushion beside me, his worry a visible thing. Elmore and Toby are crowded by my feet, both of them watching me with concern.

My body is still shaking, not from cold, but residual fear.

Just a dream.

I start to push myself up, and Gage’s arm comes around me to help. “Here,” he says, “let me help. Take your time.”

The stubborn part of me wants to insist on doing it myself, just as I’ve been for the last twenty years. But the frightened part that longs for someone to take care of me—no, not just someone, Gage —doesn’t resist.

Once I’m sitting, Gage shifts so he’s facing me, balancing himself carefully on a few inches of cushion.

In the shadows, his face is like a sculpture, all hard lines and angles, but touched with the tenderness of an artist’s hand.

“Hey, Ror.” He touches my cheek with a finger, pulling it away wet.

“What can I do to help? Tissues? A drink? Some tea?” His brow creases in thought.

“I think Winter said something about buying herbal tea. Maybe that would?—”

“Could I have a hug?”

Gage stiffens, and a hot rush of embarrassment surges through me. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m fine. Forget I?—”

“Don’t apologize.” It’s rough. Spoken through a gritted jaw. “I should have…” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to presume. But…”

A beat later, his arms come around me, strong and thick with muscle, but achingly gentle as he gathers me to his chest. His chin touches the top of my head, his breath feathering across my hair. One big hand rubs slow circles on my back.

All at once, fresh tears sting my eyes.

When was the last time I was hugged like this?

Not a familiar hug like the ones Isla gives me, or the quick and pleasant one I got from Matt when we met. Or the sweet ones from the kids who come to the rescue, their excitement at adopting a new dog bubbling over.

Even in college, when I still dared to date, I never received a hug like this.

I want to sink into it. To cling to this feeling for as long as I can. But I know that’ll only make it harder when everything goes back to normal again. When I’m back at my house and Gage only comes to visit once a week, assuming he hasn’t grown tired of me by then.

Ugh.

I hate feeling so negative. Usually, I try to look on the bright side of things. That was something my aunt taught me, back when my life fell apart. When I couldn’t bear to get out of bed or imagine finding a reason to go forward.

What happened wasn’t fair, she told me with tears in her eyes. But you’re here. And you have a choice. Let it control your life? Or take back control for yourself?

There was a moment when I thought about giving up. But then I realized how disappointed my parents would be if I did.

So I got out of bed. One day at a time. The sun came out again. Life went on. And eventually, it didn’t feel as hard anymore. I learned to hope again. I learned that the world was still a beautiful place. And I learned that there was a reason I survived.

So I push down the creeping negative thoughts and I force a smile as I reluctantly pull away from Gage. I sniff back my tears and brush at my cheeks. “I’m okay now,” I assure him. “I was just… after the dream, I was a little shaken.”

“Of course.” He hesitates. “Did you…”

“No.” Sighing, I shake my head. “Nothing useful. Not unless bad breath is something to go on.”

“Bad breath?”

“Yes. Kind of sour. But with a hint of alcohol, I think. I couldn’t see his face, though. Just his—” A shudder ripples through me. “Just his eyes. And I can’t even remember what color they were.”

“Hey.” It’s low. Soothing. Gage pats my arm. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll remember in time.”

“I guess.” Pausing, I cast my gaze around the open living space.

All the blinds are closed, but light still filters through them, so it’s clearly not nighttime yet.

In the kitchen, a bulb burns above the sink, illuminating the smooth butcher block counters and stainless steel appliances.

On the coffee table sits a laptop with the screen saver spinning, and beside it is a half-filled glass of water.

“Did you get any work done?” I ask. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“No.” Gage smiles. “I already got all my work done. I was just checking my email when you woke up.”

I barely suppress a snort. Wake up is a nice way of putting it. More like Gage having to drag me out of sleep. But I don’t say that, instead asking, “What time is it? How long was I asleep?”

Gage glances at his watch. “It’s just after five. So you were asleep for about three hours.”

“Three hours?”

“Yup.” His smile expands. “As soon as you sat down on the couch, you were out like a light. I’m glad you got some much-needed sleep.”

I do feel much better—my headache has subsided to a dull throb and my lingering nausea and dizziness is almost gone. “I didn’t snore, did I?”

“No, you didn’t.” Gage grins. “It’s funny you asked, actually.”

“Why?”

“Because when Lark stayed here, Knox caught her snoring. And it’s become sort of a running joke between them. He told her she snuffled like a puppy?—”

“Oh, that’s cute. I love puppy snuffles.”

“Of course you would. But Lark was mortified. She thinks it’s funny now, but she still teases Knox about it.”

“Well. I wouldn’t mind if I snuffled like a puppy.” The band around my chest releases. “But I wouldn’t want to snore like a train or a motor or something.”

Gage chuckles. “So dog snoring is okay, but not vehicles. Got it.” A pause, and then, “No one has ever told me I snored. And I had to bunk with a bunch of guys in the Army. So I’m assuming I’m in the clear.”

I tuck my legs up pretzel-style, leaving room for Gage to make himself comfortable. Once he settles back against the cushions, I say, “You met all the guys—your teammates—while you were still in the Army, right?”

“Yeah, I did. But the other guys, they were GBs—Green Berets—and Ronan ended up transferring to Delta. I was a Night Stalker?—”

“So you were the one flying in to extract them.” Gage doesn’t really talk much about his time in the Army, but after he mentioned being a Night Stalker, I did some research online to learn more.

“We did,” he affirms. “But we were all stationed at Fort Campbell together. Well, until Ronan joined Delta. So I saw them quite a bit. Plus we’d do training courses together sometimes.”

“It’s kind of funny that you all ended up in Vermont. And that you came back together to form the Green Mountain Guardians.”

Gage nods. “We all have ties to the New England area. I grew up in Bennington, so when I left the Army, it felt right to come back to Vermont. Knox grew up a couple towns over. Alec’s from Boston, but he spent a lot of time in Vermont.

Ronan’s originally from Maine. And Enzo took over his uncle’s outdoor supply store after he passed away.

When everything happened with Winter and he decided to form GMG, he thought the property his uncle left him would make the perfect home base for the team. ”

“And when Winter was in trouble, Enzo asked you guys to help.”

“Right. I was living up north back then, near Glover. But once we got GMG going, it just made more sense to move closer. Enzo offered to let me live on the property, and Knox was already going to build cabins here, so…” He shrugs. “Here I am.”

I’ve noticed Gage’s avoidance of the topic of why he left the Army, but I haven’t asked. If he wants to tell me, that’s one thing, but I won’t bring it up. Just like if he asked about my scars or what happened to my parents, I would tell him, but I’m definitely not eager to dive into the subject.

“Do you want something to eat?” Gage hops up and looks at me expectantly. “You didn’t have lunch, so you’ve got to be hungry.”