Page 29

“Good.” I take the last of my worries and firmly lock them away to be dealt with later. “How about this? While you’re having your meeting, I go into town. Pick up something at Breakfast Bliss so we can have a breakfast picnic.”

Gage sucks in a breath. In a carefully controlled tone, he asks, “You want to go into town yourself? Do you feel comfortable with that?”

Well. No. Not really. But I can’t live my life in fear. “I’m a little nervous,” I admit. “But I need to get back out there. And it’ll just be into town and right back. No more than half an hour.”

I can tell he’s not thrilled, but he says, “Okay. But—” He stops. “This is going to sound stupid. Overprotective, really. But that necklace I gave you? The one with the tracker in it? Will you wear it? Just to humor me?”

“I’ll wear it.” Do I really think anything will happen on the short drive into Bliss and back? Or at the breakfast diner that’s always busy from open until close? No. But the necklace is a connection to Gage. And regardless of where I am, I feel safer with it on.

“I’ll make sure to wear the necklace,” I tell Gage solemnly. Then I smile. “I’ll pick up some delicious food for us, and some of those homemade dog biscuits for Elmore, Toby, and Dewey. It’ll be great.”

For all my worries about going into town by myself, it turned out to be absolutely fine.

Better than fine, really.

The ten-minute drive into downtown Bliss gave me a chance to appreciate the blossoming colors of early summer, the trees lush with green and red leaves and tall pines stretching to a bright blue sky.

I saw the farm stands scattered along the country road like old friends—the one with the cooler filled with farm-fresh eggs, another with cartons of mouthwatering strawberries, and my favorite, the little one that sells hand carved wooden figures of deer and rabbits and other adorable woodland creatures.

I almost stopped at them, but I thought that might be pushing my luck for my first trip back into civilization, so to speak. That can be for next time, when I’m feeling more confident.

As I walked into Breakfast Bliss, I braced myself for the typical anxiety I get when I go places in public.

All the other times I’ve gone into a local store, I feel myself tensing up immediately, imagining everyone staring at me.

I used to wait in line with my head down, hair falling in curtains around my face.

I never dared look at anyone other than the cashier, who I couldn’t avoid talking to.

But this time? I felt okay.

It’s not that I feel like my self worth is tied to what Gage thinks of me. But every time I’d start feeling insecure, I’d remind myself, Gage thinks I’m beautiful. None of his friends stare or act like there’s anything wrong with me. If Georgia can be confident, scar and all, so can I.

So I smiled at people. I said hi. And when I saw Alice; I stopped to chat. I even suggested getting coffee or a drink sometime, and she eagerly said yes.

And as I was leaving the restaurant, the craziest thing of all happened.

A guy approached me and asked me if I’d like to go out sometime.

I didn’t know him, but I recognized him as one of the employees at the pet store.

And he shyly came up to me as I was leaving and asked if I might consider going out with him.

I told him no, of course. Very nicely. And he took it well, saying how he figured I already had a boyfriend or husband, but he thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.

He didn’t look at me like I was damaged goods, either.

So that was nice. Not nearly as nice as the way Gage looks at me, like he truly thinks I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, but it made me feel pretty good. It made me think that I need to call Isla and tell her she was right.

Maybe later, after Gage and I have our picnic brunch and spend a few hours in bed. Then I’ll call Isla—actually, Facetime would be better, so I can see little Dove and say hi to Matt, as well. Maybe we can plan a visit. Have Isla finally meet Gage after hearing so much about him.

On the way home, the sun seems to be agreeing with my mood.

It’s bright. Hopeful. Cheery. I find myself humming along to the music on the radio, a love song I would have considered too cheesy before, but now makes perfect sense.

The scent of freshly baked muffins fills the car—sugar and butter and tangy blueberry.

I take a quick peek at myself in the visor mirror to see myself smiling, my cheeks pink and eyes sparkling.

It’s a quiet drive back to the Green Mountain Guardians property, with no other cars in sight. A few houses are spotted on either side of the road, tucked back and nestled amid the trees. On the outskirts of Bliss, there’s not much to see out here other than nature, and that’s just how I like it.

On the left, I pass the little sign for Enzo’s store announcing Rossi’s Outfitters – 2 miles ahead .

It makes me think, Maybe I should stop in there, pick up some new outdoor gear.

Maybe find something for Gage since his birthday is coming up in a month.

He told me he used to love hiking, fell out of it after his injury, but he’d like to start doing it more often again.

Maybe I should plan a little party for him. Talk to Winter and Lark about doing another game night or something. Just a small gathering, his team, Lark and Winter, Max, and maybe we could get his friend Webb to come, too.

I’m deep in my thoughts when something big and gray comes flying up behind me, following my car so closely it fills my rearview mirror.

My hands tighten around the steering wheel as my adrenaline jumps.

I hate it when people drive like this. I’m going the speed limit, so there’s no reason for it.

The truck—it must be a V8 considering how loud it is—revs its engine. Then it edges even closer to the back of my car, coming within feet of hitting me.

My heart stutters.

I reach my hand out the window and gesture for him to pass while simultaneously edging towards the side of the road, giving him more room to get around.

But he doesn’t.

Another glance in the rearview mirror shows an expanse of shining gray hood. And above it, a dark figure behind the windshield.

I slow down, letting my right wheels drift onto the shoulder.

The engine roars again. It’s loud. Threatening.

I do a quick mental calculation. I can’t be more than a few minutes from the road that turns into the GMG property. This jerk can either pass me or wait until I turn off.

A second later, he crashes into me.

My head jerks forward. I bite my tongue, filling my mouth with a rush of coppery blood.

I clutch the steering wheel, trying to hold the car steady.

Then the truck rams into me again.

My heart leaps into my throat.

Fear chokes my breath.

It can’t be more than another mile. I just have to get?—

In a bone-jarring thud, the truck slams into me a third time.

My car starts to spin.

I’m wrestling with the steering wheel, but it doesn’t want to obey.

Then another crash, the hardest one yet.

In horror, I watch as the trees to the side of the road come flying up on me.

I scream as the wheels leave the road. My hands fly in front of my face instinctively.

Time slows. But I can’t move. I’m frozen. As my car hurtles towards the trees, horrifying possibilities fly through my head in a blink.

Scarred. Broken neck. Internal injuries. Killed.

No. This can’t be. It’s supposed to be over.

As the tree line approaches, time speeds up again.

The car bucks and thuds across dirt and shrubs before slamming into a large maple.

My head bounces off the side window, turning everything fuzzy for a second.

A moment later, the airbag inflates, smashing into my face, stunning me.

A distant part of my brain shouts at me to do something. Call for help. Get my phone. Something .

Why did this person hit me? Is he drunk? Or?—

Oh, God.

I see him.

In the rearview mirror. The gray truck is on the side of the road, idling. Its front bumper is dented, but surprisingly, it doesn’t look that bad. Not compared to the crumpled hood I can barely see above the now-deflating air bag.

But I don’t care about the truck. It’s the man I’m afraid of. The man jogging towards me, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. I can’t recognize him from here, not with my head spinning and pain radiating in waves from the spot where I hit the window.

As he gets closer, that voice in my brain shouts even louder.

Get out. Get away. Protect yourself.

What would Gage tell me to do?

Muscles unfreezing, I scrabble with the seatbelt, panicking when it doesn’t want to give.

Another glance outside the car shows the man even closer. Not even fifteen feet away.

Phone! Get my phone!

I reach into my purse, still thankfully sitting in the passenger seat, trying to find the slick feel of the plastic case. My fingers touch the leather of my wallet and the soft fabric of a hair tie, but no phone.

The man’s almost here.

Tears of frustration and pain fill my eyes.

If only I wasn’t still dizzy, I could focus better. I could find my stupid phone.

Then. My fingers close around something.

Not my phone. But something almost as good.

In a scene from a horror movie, the car door is yanked open. The man looms beside me, smelling of sour sweat and desperation.

His hand clamps on my arm, hard and punishing.

“No!” I shriek. I’m still grappling in my purse.

A voice snaps, “Get out of the damn car, Rory!”

Shock steals my breath. Freezes my muscles. My heart stops.

It can’t be. I can’t be right. It can’t be?—

I turn. Look.

“Wade?” It’s barely a whisper.

No. This doesn’t make sense. My sister’s husband. Why?—

His eyes narrow at me, the blue turning flat and cold. Eyes I’ve seen during the holidays for almost five years.

“You’re coming with me,” he growls. “Now!”

And then, in a horrible repeat of that night in the woods, his fist comes flying towards me.

But I move just in time, so it only clips my temple instead of knocking me out.

How? My sister’s husband? Why?

Anger turns my blood to fire. Unfreezes my muscles.

I will not give up. Ever.

Before he can strike again, I raise the pepper spray clutched in my hand. The pepper spray Gage gave me right after I came to GMG, telling me I should bring it everywhere, just to be safe.

I did.

With a shout of fury, I hit the trigger and aim the spray at Wade’s face.

It hits him in the eyes. He howls. Claps a hand to his face. “What the fuck!”

For a second—just a second—I try to figure out what to do next.

Try to drive the car? But the hood is crumpled. Something is smoking beneath it.

Find my phone? What good is my phone if Wade knocks me out? Takes it from me?

Or.

I could run. Hide in the woods. And?—

The tracker in my necklace. There’s an alert built into it. All I have to do is press the side and it’ll send a message to Gage and his team. Let them know I’m in trouble.

Gage is close. Just in his cabin, only a couple miles from here. If I can just get away, hide…

Decision made, I leap from the car, pushing past Wade. He reaches for me, but he still can’t see, not with his eyes red and swollen and streaming with tears.

When I hit the ground, I almost collapse to my knees. Everything spins. Bile rises in my throat.

But I force myself to run in staggering steps. My breath comes in desperate gasps. My heart feels like it’s about to explode from my chest.

The road is a long stretch leading to safety. But there’s nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go if Wade gets back in his truck.

So I veer towards the woods, instead.

Crying. Head throbbing. Fear squeezing my chest.

I have to hide.

Hide.

I can hear Wade behind me. Cursing.

As I race to the trees, I grab my necklace. Fumble for the little button on the back.

And I pray.

Please. Please let this work.