Page 45 of Mountain Defender

“Maybe not. But they do, anyway.” A beat, and then, “When kids ask, I don’t mind much. Adults… it’s kind of rude. But—” She shrugs. “It is what it is.”

I want to disagree. Loudly. Adamantly. It’s no one’s business but her own. And the idea of some stranger being so insensitive to Rory…

In a monotone, she continues, “It was my junior year in high school. We—me and my parents—were on vacation in Maine. Emily didn’t come. She wanted to stay home to hang out with her friends. I think… she feels guilty. That she wasn’t there.”

“Why, Ror?”

“Because that’s where my parents died.” She swallows. “We took a charter boat up along the southern coast, past Ogunquit and Kennebunk. My dad loved the water. We even had a boat—just a small one—that he used to take out on Lake Champlain. He was so careful. Always made us wear our life vests, took all the safety precautions…”

Rather than say anything, I just nod.

“But the company that owned that boat didn’t take precautions like my dad did. The engine malfunctioned. Exploded. My parents were both killed. Drowned, actually. And there I was, floating in the water, bleeding, and I couldn’t help them. I… I…”

“Ror.”

Tears stand in her eyes. “I survived. Obviously. But the debris… all the metal and plastic… I was cut. Badly. That’s why I have all these scars. Not just on my face. My arms. My legs. I went to plastic surgeons, but there was only so much they could do.”

Shit.

I knew it had to be bad, but this? Watching her parents die? Terribly injured and facing a long recovery alone?

“That’s where the money came from,” Rory explains. “My aunt and uncle—they’re the ones I went to stay with—insisted on suing. Not because they’re greedy, but they wanted me to have money for the surgeries. For college.”

The need to hold Rory is a physical pain. My heart feels torn open. Raw. Aching.

“The company lost the lawsuit. And because I was still a minor, my aunt and uncle pushed for it to be paid out in a structured settlement. So I’d be covered for years. Now I get a big check every year. Hundreds of thousands. In the beginning, I didn’t want to spend it. It felt like blood money. But then Igot the idea of the shelter, and I just knew my parents would approve. So that’s how I pay for everything.”

“Rory.”

She lifts her chin as she looks at me. “I’ve come to terms with it. Mostly. I mean, it’s been twenty years. More than enough time. But I’ll never forget. Not when I’m reminded every time I look in the mirror and see how ugly?—”

“What?”

How could she think that?

“I know how I look. And it’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. Not what happened to her parents, or her. And definitely not that she thinks she’s ugly when she’s the furthest thing from it.

“You’re not ugly.” My voice is hoarse with emotion. “You’re beautiful, Ror.”

“I’m not, Gage. You don’t know?—”

“You are.” Throwing caution to the side, I pull Rory onto my lap. I brush at the tears trickling down her cheeks. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Inside and outside. I wish you could see what I see.”

“Gage. You don’t have to say that.”

“But you are.” I’ve never meant anything more. As I look at her face, the fine lines of her features, her flushed cheeks and expressive eyes shining with tears, I don’t see anything but her beauty.

“Then why—” Red spreads down her neck and she ducks her head. “Nevermind.”

Realization slams into me with the force of a tank.

All this time I’ve been thinking I could never be enough for a woman like Rory. But maybe she was thinking the same about me. And my stubborn pride let her believe it.

“Ror.” I jostle her on my lap, encouraging her to look up at me. “It wasn’t you. Ever.”

“It’s okay, Gage. I wasn’t telling you to make you feel guilty. Or—crap. Now things are going to be weird. Can we just forget?—”

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