Page 23 of Fighting For You
I’d had no choice but to leave or I would’ve yelled. I wasn’t that kind of man, but I couldn’t stand there looking at her holding herself so tightly and judging me—hating me for something I’d done and wouldn’t change.
I didn’t want to spend my life raging at this woman. I hated the idea that she spent any time doing the same forme when we could have—no, didn’t matter. The point was, I couldn’t take her in my space, petting Bones and watching the traitorous little creature purring for her like he’d found his second home and not lose my grip on this crush of feeling.
No.
She liked to blame me for taking everything from her, for ruining her life, but here she was invading the sanctuary of my cabin, forcing her way in when I needed time. I wasn’t someone who could just come up with the right words with no notice, especially not right now. Why had she come here?
I walked a circle in the driveway and as I looped back toward the cabin, her small form cast a shadow in the doorway.
“You can’t just run away,” she said, almost yelled because the wind was whipping through the trees and since they still held some of their fall leaves, it stirred into a dull roar around us.
“You shouldn’t have come here.” I paced back to her, ready to ask her to go. My emotions were already stripped bare, and I couldn’t take any more of her here.
She opened her mouth to speak, then wobbled slightly and grabbed the doorframe. “I came here for a reason.”
The frustration and anger and sadness pulsing through me skipped as I registered her washed out pallor and the way she leaned against the doorway—not just held on to steady herself, but now resting her head against it, like she couldn’t hold it up anymore.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.
“I think I’m—” Then she slumped and pitched forward.
I dove, catching her upper body in my arms before she hit gravel and just in time to see her eyes roll back.
“Pop,” I said, sinking to my knees and situating her better so her neck was properly supported. “Pop.”
I swore, but years of reacting to the unexpected had me kicking into gear. I checked her pulse, and it was slightly elevated, but steady. She felt hot, but as cold as it was out here, I couldn’t really tell.
Rising to my feet, I carried her inside and set her on the couch. She roused slightly, shifting and making enough noise to reassure me she wasn’t dying, at least not yet, so I jogged to shut the door. Bones blinked at me from nearby.
“She’ll be okay.”
Maybe I said it for my traitor cat, but maybe I said it for myself.
Back at her side, I kneeled by the couch.
“Pop—Jess.” I brushed the hair that’d fallen from her bun back, my heart slowing. “Jess. Can you hear me?”
She groaned and her eyes blinked open slowly. It took her a moment to focus enough, and when she finally zeroed in on my face, her brow furrowed. “What happened?”
Her words were gummy and almost slurred, but she was already shifting on the couch, trying to ease up from the lying position.
“Hey, easy.” I set a hand on her arm, not wanting to restrain her, but wanting to make sure she didn’t pop up and get dizzy. “You passed out as you were coming outside.”
She crushed her eyes closed. “I’m sorry.” With a moan, she sat, wincing against an unseen force as though something was pulling her back down. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“No.”
I didn’t say anything else because there was nothing else to say, but she didn’t seem to register my response. If she thought I was about to let her leave here and drive home, let alone do it in a snowstorm, she was mad.
“Do you think I could use your bathroom before I go?”
Her gaze found mine, though I couldn’t be sure she was fully seeing me.
“Go ahead. Right down the hall.” I moved to flip on the hallway light, then snatched up Bones so he didn’t trip her.
She stumbled her way into the bathroom and shut the door. I debated what to do, fearing she’d pass out again and hit her head on the tub or the corner of the vanity and have a true head injury. We’d be waiting quite a while for an ambulance.
The toilet flushed so I moved away from the hallway to avoid seeming like a creeper, hoping she’d be out soon. I refilled her water and found a first aid kit. After another minute, I’d found a thermometer and replaced the batteries.
