And if that wasn’t bad enough, there were still pieces missing, some of it coming back in fragments, and out of order.
She was halfway down the stairs when the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit her, turning her stomach.She paused; her fingers tightened on the railing until the nausea finally eased.
Pushing off, she made her way down the remaining stairs, slower now, following the smell of coffee into the kitchen, where Nash stood at the counter, a mug in hand.
His head lifted at the sound of her, his eyes going wide.The cup hit the counter with a soft thud as he set it down, already moving.
“You okay?”he asked, pulling her into his arms.
“I mean, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” she whispered, folding into the solid press of his chest, the warmth of his arms settling around her.
Fingers curling into his shirt, she closed her eyes.Every time she let herself think about what it had taken for him to find her—the sheer stubborn force of it—her throat tightened, her eyes burning before she could stop it.
Nash’s hand came up, gently cradling the back of her head, careful of the still-swollen knot McCoy had left behind.
McCoy.
Cassie’s eyes squeezed shut as the sensation of the knife driving into his neck rushed back, followed by a flash of all the blood that came after.
She’d stabbed a man—
Maybe killed him…
…and she was having a hell of a time dealing with that fact.
Even knowing what he’d done—to Connor, to Maya…
“Concussion’ll do that to you,” Nash said, voice low against her hair.“So will a hot shot of fuckin’ fent.”His grip tightened slightly at the back of her head.
“We should’ve taken you in,” he muttered.“You want to go, I’ll take you.Charleston, Kentucky—don’t matter.”
Somewhere in the back of Cassie’s mind, she knew she probably should’ve gone to a hospital.But that would’ve meant questions.And possibly the police.
A shudder ran through her.
“No,” she murmured.“You did the right thing.”
“Besides, I feel better than yesterday.And yesterday I felt better than the day before that.”
Nash went still against her for a second.“Yeah,” he said roughly.“That’s how it goes.”
She swallowed past the tightness in her throat.“Is it still burning?”
Nash’s gaze flicked past her toward the window, his hand slipping into hers.
“C’mon,” he said, walking her through the house and out onto the porch.
The morning air greeted them warmly, thick with the usual scents of the ridge—pine sap, faintly sweet—though tinged with smoke.A haze hung over everything, softening the line of the mountains in the distance.
Cassie stepped forward slowly, her eyes lifting to where a dark smear cut across the trees, rolling up into the sky in heavy plumes.It didn’t look close, but it didn’t look small either.
“Forestry’s got it contained,” Nash said, dropping her hand and pulling her back against him.“Long as it stays put…” He paused, just a fraction.“They’ll let it burn.”
Cassie’s gaze stayed fixed on the fire, watching the smoke climb.
“The sheriff?”she asked.“Has he…”
“Not a fuckin’ word.”
