Page 103 of Protected from Torment

Even then, I didn’t truly believe I was stuck. I was certain that, given a few minutes of rest, I’d be able to climb up the hill and limp my way back to Tyler’s cabin.

Tyler’s cabin. Not ours. I’d had a hope of it being ours, one day. But given everything that happened—the conversation about my job, an apartment, and the latest news about my shocking pregnancy—I don’t see how things could work out that way. Not when Tyler essentially told me to move three thousand miles away. If that’s not the sign of a man who wants to end things, I’m not sure what is.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he’s going to think I tricked him into getting pregnant, too.

Well, assuming I ever get to tell him at all, and I don’t end up wasting away right on the Blade and Arrow property.

“No,” I say out loud, as though that gives the statement more merit. “Don’t be stupid.” After all, eventually, Tyler will realize I’m missing. He’ll ask around; find out from Eden that I took Oscar back out on the trails. He’ll go looking for me, and with only thirteen acres to search, he’s bound to find me.

Unless he thinks I took off on him.

Unless he decided he’s better off without me.

“Stop it.” This time my tone is scolding. “Just because Tyler doesn’t want me to stay, that doesn’t mean he won’t come looking for me.”

Rationally, I know it’s true. Tyler’s a protector to his core, and if he thinks I’m in trouble, he’ll do something about it. And I’m sure he cares about me. Just not as much as I care about him.

Just thinking about Tyler starts me crying all over again.

I wish he were here.

Actually, if I’m thinking about what I really wish for, I wish I was back at the cabin, snuggled up on the couch with ice packs and a snuggly blanket and Oscar snoozing by my feet. Tyler would come bustling into the room with a tray full of snacks, and then he’d join me on the couch, gently lifting my injured ankle onto his lap while he checks it.

I can see his dark head bent over my foot, and in profile, his features are creased with concern. His hands are gentle as he lightly strokes my skin. Then his green-gold eyes meet mine—more green than gold, like they tend to turn whenever he’s worried—and he asks me how I’m feeling.

And then, in my wishful fantasy, his hand moves to cover my stomach. “The little one is safe and sound in there,” he assures me. “The doctor said there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I still feel guilty I fell,” I tell him. “I should have been⁠—”

“No, Mel.” He silences me with a kiss. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was an accident.” His eyes soften with affection. “And really, the only thing that matters is that the woman I love is okay.”

“And the baby?” I ask, still a little nervous about it.

“Of course the baby,” he replies, and kisses me again. “Both of you.”

With my face still buried in Oscar’s neck, I allow myself a wistful moment to pretend my fantasy is real. But when I lift my head to look at my surroundings again, reality comes crashing back in.

Tyler isn’t here.

I’m stuck at the bottom of this stupid hill after letting myself get towed along on a hapless squirrel chase.

My ankle is injured badly enough that I can’t walk on it.

My body aches all over.

The baby may or may not be okay. Assuming the test Eden gave me was accurate, and I really am pregnant, despite everything the doctor told me six years ago.

And whenever Tyler finds me, it’s not going to be the joyous reunion I’d like it to be. Because I’m going to have to tell him how, against all odds, I’m carrying his baby.

Deciding to make another attempt to climb up the hill, I pull my legs beneath me and use my hands to push myself up. Tiny rocks dig into my raw and bleeding skin. I put my weight onto my right foot first, which is fine. But as soon as I lean on my left, pain explodes through my ankle and it immediately buckles.

“Crap.” Without thinking, I smack my palm on the ground in frustration. Which does nothing aside from make my hand hurt more than it did already, and probably embedded some extra pebbles alongside the ones already there. “Stupid ankle.”

I look up the hill, trying to figure out if there’s a way to crawl my way up it, instead. It shouldn’t be that hard, in theory, with all the trees available as handholds. And with both hands and one good leg… maybe now that I’ve had some time to get my bearings, I’ll be able to do it.

“It’s going to hurt,” I warn myself. “Holding onto those tree trunks isn’t going to feel good. And my knees are going to end up a mess.”

A quick look at my legs makes me snort. They’re already a mess of scratches and bruises. A few more aren’t going to make a difference.