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“You have no right to be here,” he gritted out in my silence. His eyes burned a bluish and amber flame. I knew I needed to talk, but I also knew the logical part of my brain was slipping away.

My throat closed. My thoughts raced, and all I could hear was my adrenaline telling me to run. RUN. I had been labeled a runaway my entire childhood. I often ran before even acknowledging the decision.

I didn’t remember making the choice to stand, but the next thing I knew, I was standing and backing away. His eyes glinted in anger. His hands fisted by his side. My hand squeezed around the military tags. The metal cutting into my palm. He took a step toward me as larger dark spots clouded my vision. I raised a hand to ward him off. All logical thoughts vacated my mind. My years of experience handling angry people were tossed out the window. My ability to calmly handle disgruntled people had disappeared. Between discovering that Abel was gone and having flashbacks of the horrific abuse I had endured, my mind raced with old memories that I had wanted to forget long ago. I didn’t feel like the independent, kick-butt-and-take-names kind of social worker anymore . . . I was that little girl that needed a social worker, one that’d stand up for her. He raked a hand through his thick chestnut hair. His lips that were set in a firm line parted as something unrecognizable passed across his face. I took another step back. His hand came toward me and then everything went black.

Soren

Something wasn’t right. Why was she raising her hand toward me? Did she think I was going to hit her? I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I would never cross that line and lay a hand on a woman. Then the sickening thought flashed through my mind. She had indicated she’d been hurt before. I remembered the flinch at the creek when I squeezed her shoulder after we’d found Connor. I had asked her shortly after if anyone was hurting her, and she had said not anymore. Air whooshed out of my body in a rush. My stomach bottomed out when I saw her eyes roll back in her head, and I reached to catch her before her head connected with another gravestone behind her. When I stepped forward a moment ago, I had been trying to stop her from tripping on another gravestone. Her sunshine blonde hair spilled all over me and her as I fumbled to ease her body to the soft green grass. It was difficult catching someone while you were facing them, especially when they fell back instead of forward. Confusion didn’t begin to explain my state of mind. Hell. What had I done? Had she just fainted? I pushed the hair away from her face as it puddled around her small body like liquid gold. I was angry with myself for being the world’s biggest jackass. What was it about this woman that entangled my thoughts? And why did she keep showing up on the worst days? I had been caught off guard earlier when she stopped by my house and was angry at myself about something else. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see her. Her presence had been unexpected both days, and these days were the hardest to face every year. I didn’t think I’d see her again, especially here. Why was she leaning against my brother’s grave? Her long eyelashes laid against her pale cheeks, and there was no doubt she had been crying. There was a dusting of light freckles across her nose and the tops of her cheeks. Her lips were notably full, and there was a crease in the center of her bottom lip. She was an angel, except for the wet lashes. She’d gotten under my skin in a way that no one ever had before, and it unnerved me. Sawyer made me off-kilter. I once lived for one-night stands and too much whiskey that would drown everything out. I used to be able to walk into a bar and leave with whatever woman I wanted without even trying.

But that was before and this was now. I felt a pit in my stomach when I reflected on my previous behavior. Shame poured over me as I remembered my words to her. Did I scare her to the point that she fainted? Hell. Was there something medically wrong with her? I brushed my thumb across her rose petal soft cheek as I knelt beside her. The soft scent of strawberries clung to her. I wished I could explain why today was so heavy, even though I knew it wouldn’t excuse my words or actions. My earlier anger had completely dissipated. I had to fix this.

“Wake up, Sawyer. Come back to me.” I reached for her hand and placed it in mine. Her heartbeat was strong. That was when I noticed it. Her hand had fallen open and twisted around her wrist and hand was a chain. A chain attached to old military identification tags. As I lifted her hand, I noticed the name. Henry Abel Roberts.

What the hell?! Why did she have my grandpa’s dog tags? I thought I’d had enough surprises this week. Once she came to, we were going to have a nice long talk about what was going on. I tucked the tags into my pocket and slid my arms under her knees and back. I had jumped out of my truck quickly, and as a result left it running. I didn’t want her laying on the cool ground. Maybe the warmer air of the truck would make her wake up, and if she stayed unconscious too long, I could get her to the clinic more quickly. She was small in my arms. I juggled her slightly, hooked my index finger under the handle and opened the passenger door. I settled her in the seat and, for good measure, reached to recline it some so she wouldn’t fall forward. Cupping her cheek as gently as my calloused hands could, I rubbed my thumb across her chin. Her skin was like silk.

“Everything is going to be okay, Sawyer. Please wake up.”

If I accomplished anything today, I was going to get down to the bottom of what was going on. Her eyelashes fluttered.

“That’s it. Pretty Girl. Wake up.”

Her shattered, light-wash denim eyes met mine. I saw emotions cross her face in rapid succession. Confusion. Surprise. Awareness of her surroundings. Fear. Then absolute terror overtook her before she began attacking me with as much force as a one hundred and twenty-five pound woman could. Until this moment, I’d never truly appreciated the time spent boxing with Lane and Jonah at the gym. I swiftly blocked the strikes and gently secured her wrists, taking care to not hurt her with too much pressure. Her chest heaved with exertion and, most likely, adrenaline.

“It’s okay. You passed out. I brought you to my truck so you wouldn’t be on the ground.”

“Let go of me!” she spit out, squirming to get loose.

“I am. I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Her brow lowered in anger but her movements ceased. She breathed in a pattern I was intimately familiar with.

Sawyer’s voice was strained and timid when she explained, “I’m not going to be able to calm down until you stop touching me.”

Her voice sounded more level. I took a step back and released her hands as if they had burned me and held my hands up in surrender. She sat straight and stared out the windshield, as if to verify she was still at the cemetery. After a moment, her breathing slowed, and she turned to me with accusation in her eyes.

“Why were you yelling at me?”

I ran my hand through my hair in frustration and she flinched again.

“Why do you keep doing that?” I asked, exasperated.

She ignored my question and went to get out of the truck. I held out a hand to stop her. Not touching her, but blocking her path because I didn’t want a repeat of her fainting again, especially from the height of my truck.

“Sit down before you pass out again. You’re not going anywhere until we talk.” I scowled.

I didn’t know it, but that was the worst thing I could have said at the moment. Her eyes blazed before she started flailing with everything inside her. That temporarily stunned me, and she fought to get around me again. I stumbled back in surprise.

“Get outta my way!” she screamed, fighting with everything inside her. It was as though she was somewhere else, with someone else.

“Hell, Sawyer! I’m trying to help you,” I barked.

She made it around me and turned to face me, as though preparing for a duel. My lip smarted in pain. I tried again, desperate to understand. There was a wildness in her eyes that I’d never seen before.

“Sawyer. I’m sorry I yelled at you. Today was a rough day, and I took it out on the wrong person. I’d really like to understand what you’re doing at my brother’s grave.”

She completely froze. Her shoulders dropped as a wheeze of air left her body.

“Abel is your brother?” Her eyes tracked between mine as if searching for the truth.

“Yes, he was.”