“Sore?” I arch my eyebrows at her. “You almost fell. Twice.”
Her chin takes on that defiant tilt again. “I made itto work and back. And I only fell—” Her mouth snaps shut.
Guilt shifts to impotent anger.
She walked for miles. In pain. Fell who knows how many times.
Moving on instinct again, I take off Vienna’s backpack and sling it over one shoulder, then sweep Vienna into my arms, one beneath her legs and the other behind her back. She lets out a surprised sound and clutches my neck. “Caleb!”
“You’re hurt,” I state flatly. Holding her close to my chest, I stride towards the cabin. And dammit, she feels even lighter than I thought she would. “I don’t want you falling again.”
“I…” She sighs and sags against me. “Okay.”
Once I get to the door, I hold her with one arm while opening the door with the other. Then I walk inside, kick the door shut behind me, and carry Vienna over to the worn couch that faces the fireplace.
As soon as I set her down, she yelps and lifts her feet off the couch. “My boots,” she explains. “I don’t want to get it all wet.”
“Then I’ll take them off.” Kneeling beside her, I gently press her back to the couch when she tries to get up. “Just rest for a minute.”
She blinks at me while I remove one boot, then the other. Once her boots are off, I readjust her legs so they’re stretched across the couch. Then I head over to the door and kick my own boots off.
Crossing the small room, I head back to Vienna. She’s already pulled herself up to a seated positioninstead of lying down, where I left her. But she’s not standing, so I’ll count that as a win.
“What are you doing?” she asks. A little line forms between her brows. “I don’t understand.”
“Helping.” Grabbing the wooden chair adjacent to the couch, I drag it over so it’s next to it. Then I sink into the chair and look at Vienna. “You’re hurt. Don’t tell me you’re not. I know I’m not the nicest guy?—”
She frowns. “I never said that.”
“I know you didn’t. But I’m not. I’m grouchy and I let you walk to work instead of offering you a ride like a normal person would. I like living alone so I don’t have to deal with people.”
Her face falls. “I’m sorry. I should leave?—”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m just saying, I’m not some friendly guy. But I also don’t like seeing people in pain. And definitely not people I like.”
Vienna stares at me. “You like me?”
Well, shit. How did I get myself into this?
When I don’t answer right away, she starts to swing her legs around to get up. “It’s okay,” she says. “Forget I said?—”
I lay my hand on her leg, stilling it. And I tell her the truth. “I do like you. And whatever’s going on, I want to help. Don’t ask me why. When I moved to Vermont three years ago, I thought my days of helping were over. I wanted them over. But now? It’s different. I can tell you’re in trouble, I can tell you’re hurting, and I don’t like it. So just sit here. Don’t walk around and make your leg hurt even more. Please.”
Her pretty eyes go wide. I can see her thoughtsworking within. She wants to ask why. She doesn’t understand. But she wants to respect my wishes, too.
After a long silence, she settles back on the couch. Belatedly, I realize my hand is still on her leg. And despite how right it feels, I pull it away.
“I broke my leg,” Vienna says. “Eight months ago. In three places. I had to have surgery. PT. I was on crutches for months.”
“Shit.” My jaw clenches. “What happened?”
She sighs. “I’d just left work and was walking to my car. It was late. I was crossing the street when a car came out of nowhere. The driver hit me and just took off. It was dark, and I was in so much pain… I didn’t see the license plate. I couldn’t ID the driver. So he—or she—just got away with it.”
I’m struck with a vision of Vienna sprawled on the street, her leg broken and bleeding, crying and in pain, while some piece of shit asshole got off without consequence.
“That fucker,” I mutter, while trying to swallow my rage.
Vienna nods. “Yeah. That’s what I thought, too. But I guess I’m lucky it wasn’t worse. I could have been killed.”
