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My focus should be on what matters. That’s establishing myself as the new town doctor, working alongside my uncle until he retires. Then, I’ll be the town doctor with all the responsibility that comes with that designation.
I need to give the townspeople reason to trust me and that doesn’t happen by sleeping my way through the town’s eligible bachelors from day one.
Not that I’m that kind of girl, but my point’s made. As far as my deficits go, I’m an incredibly poor judge of character.
I never saw the abuse coming from Scott.
That’s what bothers me the most.
Too caught up in the illusion of love, I missed every warning sign. From Scott’s overprotectiveness to his jealous rages, I excused every instance of Scott’s instability.
I forgave every hit, every punch, and continued to lie to myself as I sat in the emergency room with cracked ribs, swollen lips, and bruises that covered every square inch of my body. He made me believe it was my fault.
I knew better. Yet, I still believed the lie he forced me to accept. That’s what I hate the most.
I’m a smart woman.
A professional.
I’m trained in how to recognize and treat domestic abuse.
Yet, I still believed I was at fault.
These thoughts are too heavy for the morning. I need to think of lighter things, more important things. Things like getting my Jeep out of that ditch and letting my uncle know where I am.
I stretch, luxuriating in the softness of the flannel sheets and quilted coverlet. My toes, fingers, nose, and ears pulse with heat.
Sunlight streaks through the lace curtains, and I blink away the sleep from my eyes. My lips curl into a slow smile.
The feeling of being home settles deep within my chest. I twist side-to-side, loosening my back and stretching my neck, enjoying the slow process of waking up.
Nose twitching, I catch the faint aroma of breakfast drifting down the hall from the kitchen. Is that what woke me? I sniff again, and this time a broad smile curves my lips.
Bacon!
BREAKFAST
The warm, sizzling scent of bacon brings back memories of my mother’s cooking, making the room smell like a lazy Sunday sleep-in kind of day, with a whole lot of awesome heaped on top.
Maybe Peace Springs isn’t so bad after all?
As much as I want to stay in bed and soak up the warm feeling, I need to get up and greet my hosts. Swinging my feet around, a neatly folded stack of clothes catches my eye.
My clothes.
They sit on the nightstand beside my bed. Did Bert wash and dry my clothes while I slept?
Or was it Drake?
A glance toward the door confirms it’s shut, but after the bathroom incident last night, I pad over and check to make sure it’s securely latched. A few minutes later, I have both beds made and I’ve changed into my jeans. This time, I only put one shirt on, instead of seven.
My teeth feel fuzzy, and the fullness of my bladder pinches. Opening the door, I peek into the hallway, looking toward the living room. Male voices echo down the hall, originating from the kitchen. It’s the deep kind of laughter of two men who know each other well. It rumbles through the house, warming it from the inside out.
I tiptoe to the bathroom, relieve myself, and then finger-scrub the fuzz away from my teeth. I check myself in the mirror, paying special attention to my ears, nose, and even my cheeks. Despite my ordeal, I made it through the blizzard without any damage.
But I’ve stalled long enough.
Drake’s voice bounces off the walls, deep and resonating; it tunnels beneath my skin and slams into my gut, twisting and knotting into a tangled mess. My belly flutters and my breaths turn shallow. Rapid. Nervous to see him again.
