Page 14 of Mountain Defender

And that leads to even more questions without answers. Who would do that to me? And if they wanted me dead, how did I escape?

God.

Someone wants medead.

A shiver runs through me, sending a rush of goosebumps across my body. The heart monitor hooked to my finger makes a series of alarmed beeps as panic slams into me again.

I’m in the hospital, surrounded by anxiety-inducing sounds like the heart monitor and the buzz of doctors and nurses in the hallway and the heart-stopping crackle over the intercom of, “Code blue in One-fifty. Code Blue. Need assistance STAT.”

It’s too close to the memories I’d rather forget.

As the familiar signs of PTSD creep up on me—shortness of breath, trembling hands, cold sweat prickling the back of my neck—I try to use some of the strategies my old counselor taughtme. Taking a deep breath in, I hold it for four seconds before letting it out, then repeat another four times after that. I look around the room, trying to find five things to think about, but everything I find only makes my panic get worse.

The softly beeping monitor reminds me of those final moments before my life changed irrevocably.

The scratchy blanket over my legs makes me feel claustrophobic instead of warming me, like it should.

The small room is austere, not a single decoration or get well card in sight, evoking a suffocating loneliness that makes it hard to breathe.

I take a sip of water from the glass on the table next to the bed, but instead of being refreshing, the burn of liquid running down my sore and swollen throat is just another reminder of what happened only hours ago.

My nails dig into the mattress as I fight to control my rising anxiety. And I’m struck with an irrational desire to hide. To leave the hospital and go back to where I feel safe. Home. With my dogs. Where strangers don’t let their gazes linger on the scars on my body and face, their mouths twisting in sympathy. I want to be on my couch, snuggled up in front of the fire with Elmore and Toby on either side of my legs.

I wish this were just a regular day instead of the total disaster it’s become. Gage would have been over already to fix the loose plank on my porch. He might have even stayed for a little while after to eat some of the blueberry crumble muffins I made for his visit. I’d be fully into my daily routine by now, spending one-on-one time with each of the rescue dogs, training them so they’ll be ready to join a new family soon.

But instead, I’m here.

Scared. Hurting. And feeling utterly alone.

A tiny voice whispers in my head, wistfully pleading,I want Gage. Where is he? Why isn’t he here?

But I know why. Because he already did his duty.

Not just finding me in the woods, but bringing me back to the house, building a fire and finding nearly every blanket I own to help me get warm. Staying with me until the police and paramedics arrived. And he even insisted on riding in the ambulance with me, telling the protesting ambulance driver in a tone that brooked no argument, “Rory could be in serious danger. I’mnotleaving her alone.”

That was nearly two hours ago, though. Once we arrived at the hospital, I was whisked away while Gage hung back. The last thing he called after me before we were separated was, “I’ll make sure the dogs are taken care of, Ror. Don’t worry about them.”

It’s not that I don’t trust Gage. But I don’t know if whoever came after me last night did something to the dogs. Could they have somehow put poison in the food or water? Broken into the barn and hurt them? I know Elmore and Toby are okay, but what if?—

“Aurora Townsend?”

I jolt at the unfamiliar male voice; my heart monitor giving another unhappy flurry of beeps. My lungs seize. All my muscles tense, poised and ready to flee.

My terrified brain screeches silently,Run! The man who came to hurt you is back. Get out of here now!

Ridiculous, I know. I’m in the hospital, surrounded by dozens of people. Even if this person plans to come after me again, they won’t do it here.

But a glance at the doorway tells me it’snotmy unidentified attacker. Not because I recognize the uniformed cop standing there, but the woman beside him, I do.

Sage Nelson. The only female police officer in Bliss. And the very lovely woman who came to the rescue to introduce herself more than a year ago, handing me her number and letting me know to call if I ever needed anything.

Still, my racing heart takes a bit longer to catch up to reality. As I work to steady my breathing, the dark-haired man says apologetically, “Sorry, Miss Townsend. I didn’t mean to scare you. With all the noise in the hospital?—”

“No, it’s fine,” I reassure him. Pasting a tight smile on my face, I continue, “I was just… startled, is all.”

“Being in the hospital always makes me a little jumpy,” Officer Nelson adds kindly. “So many things going on, and when you’re not feeling your best…”

Forcibly unclenching my fingers from the blanket, I smooth it nervously across my lap. “It’s alright. I should have been expecting you, anyway.”

---