Page 108 of In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes

She was quiet a moment, listening. “Nothing. I heard a noise. I wonder if the raccoons are going through my garbage again. Oh yeah, they retrieved my stupid fucking dildo from the bear den,” she said in an irritated tone.

“I thought it wasn’t yours?”

She groaned. “Don’t start, asshole.”

I grinned ear to ear, remembering her bright red face at the anniversary party while we watched the bear swing the dildo around.

“The park ranger came into the bar the other day to assure me I’d get it back. I kept telling him I didn’t want it and he kept telling me it was nothing to be embarrassed about.” Sadie laughed. “What is wrong with this place?”

“Everyone wants you to feel comfortable. They like you.”

“This place is weird, Holden.”

“Do you like it, though?” I stared out the window at the dark sky, listening hard for her answer.

“Yeah.” Her voice was soft. “I do. I can see why you won’t leave.” She made a noise in her throat. “There’s that noise again.” I could hear rustling. “I’m going to check it out at the window.”

Worry streaked through me and I frowned. “Sadie, don’t go to the window.”

“I’m just going to look for a second.”

A memory rushed at me. The freshly fallen tree in the forest. Me telling her I’d call an arborist to check out the trees around the inn.

I forgot. Fuck. I jerked upright. I’d been so busy between the inn and work and having the time of my goddamned life with her, I forgot to call the arborist.

My pulse picked up. “Sadie, get back in bed.”

“Don’t boss me around,” she joked. “I can’t see anything—” She gasped before there was a deafening crash.

“Sadie? Sadie!” I yelled. “What’s going on?” My pulse hammered with terror.

She swore. “The window. A tree just fucking fell through it.” Her voice shook. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t move,” I demanded. “You’ll step on glass and cut your feet. Stay where you are.” My heart beat pounded in my ears and I was already standing. “Are you okay?”

“I’m, um.” She broke off, breathing hard. “I’m okay. Oh. My arm. It’s bleeding.”

“How hard?”

“Not so bad.” Her voice was quiet. She might be in shock.

“Send me a photo. Right now.”

“How did the tree fall through the window?” She sounded lost and confused.

I knew exactly how. It was storming all week, the ground was soft, and combined with the wind, some of the old trees couldn’t handle it. Every year, we had a handful of downed trees. They fell on power lines, in yards, across streets, and on the rare occasion, on houses and cars.

Every instinct in my body told me toget there. Get to Sadie, right now. This was my fault. I didn’t call the arborist. This could have been prevented. She could have been hurt. My stomach twisted with anxiety.

I put her on speaker while I began to pack, throwing everything I owned in my bag without care.

“Sadie, send me the photo of your arm,” I barked.

“Okay.”

A couple seconds later, my phone buzzed with the text. I studied the picture. A dribble of blood ran down her forearm but it didn’t seem severe.

Shame and fury at myself gripped me by the throat. This wasmy fault. I could have prevented this and now my sweet, trusting Sadie was hurt.

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