Page 6 of Isabelle & Jason
Once she was alone with the doctor, a fresh wave of panic hit her. She retreated into herself, hugging herself tighter. The doctor hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t made any advances toward her. And yet her mind was telling her that she had to be onguard. She didn’t want him to touch her. She didn’t even like the fact that he was in the same room as she was without someone else to buffer them.
Logically, she knew the panic she felt wasn’t normal, but she couldn’t shake it. Eventually, she’d get over this sense of doom.
She had to.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” his quiet voice shattered the silence, and she jumped.
Isabelle risked a glance in his direction. “Can I see the report? The one that…”
The doctor suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“Thereisa report, isn’t there?”
“Of course.”
“Then can I see it?” She dropped her knees and crossed her legs, pinning the doctor with a hard stare.
“Why do you wish to see it?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “I want to know who…” She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall again. “Whoever brought me in. He deserves my thanks, right?”
“I’m sorry, but that information is confidential.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re joking. He brought me to the hospital. He saved me. I deserve to know?—”
“He wanted to remain anonymous.” The pained look in Dr. Klein’s eyes spoke volumes. Heknew.
He knew who this Good Samaritan was, and he refused to tell her.
Isabelle’s face flushed hot with a different kind of rage. She’d been violated. She’d been attacked, and she had the bruises to prove it. If this man—whoever he was—saved her, then he deserved to be thanked. She wanted to look him in the eye and tell him that she appreciated that he had stepped up because not many would do such a thing.
The swirling in her gut intensified, and she clenched her hands into fists until her fingernails dug into her palms painfully.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Palmer. If it were up to me?—”
“Just—” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Just… let’s do the kit and I’ll be out of your hair.” She looked away, not willing to meet his gaze again. Those unnerving hazel eyes only added to the anxiety she couldn’t shake.
One day she’d remember.
She had to believe that, if only to gain a smidge of peace that had been stolen from her last night. The second the doctor was gone, she got up and retrieved her phone. Five quick messages later, assuring her siblings she was fine and just nursing a hangover, she settled back and focused on her breathing.
Today hurt.
Tomorrow would be a little better.
Maybe five years from now, she wouldn’t even remember how it felt to be in this hospital bed at all.
3
One Year Later
Jason
Jason shut his truck door and peered up at the main house at Winding Creek Ranch. It was a newer home. Only a couple of years old, if he had to guess. It was big, too—bigger than what he’d grown up in.
There was a porch that wrapped around the whole building. The structure had two stories and plenty of windows. Painted white with black trim, it looked like it could have been built in the South rather than Colorado.
Mark climbed out and tossed Jason a smirk. “What did I tell you? It’s great, right?”
