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Right. He’d had enough of this. He needed to leave.

“You . . . you . . . you . . .”

He walked off without a word, ignoring the fact that his body wanted him to turn around.

To go back to her and check her over. To ensure that she really was all right.

Nope, he had to get far away from this girl. Thank God he’d never see her again.

Aimee slumped down on the sofa and stared at the piles of mail on the coffee table. She hadn’t even opened most of it. It was too depressing.

She couldn’t deal with any of this. She ran her hand over her face.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you don’t do it, no one will.

Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly.

After her interaction with the rudest hero ever, she’d forced herself to go meet with Ed. But she’d been a mess, shaking and upset. One moment angry, the next feeling lost and alone.

Even though she didn’t think she had been that close to death, she couldn’t help but wonder about what would have happened if she died. Who would have cared? Well, Kirsten would have, and maybe a few other people, but that was it. They’d give her a funeral, and then they’d move on.

She’d have nothing to show for her life here. No one to truly mourn her. No one to really care.

Shit.

This wasn’t her. She wasn’t usually one to dwell on things. Aimee liked to just keep moving, to see the positive. But maybe that was part of her problem.

Maybe she should spend more time reflecting on the fact that her life was filled with disappointment and regret. When was the last time she’d done anything for fun? When was the last time that she’d even just gone out for a drink with Kirsten, or done something to take care of herself?

Self-care was a big thing now, right? And here she was unable to remember the last time she’d put on a face mask, gotten herself a manicure, had a bubble bath, hell, exercised.

It was time to turn her life around, but she just couldn’t see a way clear of all this stuff weighing her down.

It was all too much, and she was starting to feel like she couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

All the money in her savings account had to go toward the funeral. And she couldn’t help but feel resentful. Even in death, Charlie was fucking her over. Aimee was certain that he was having a good laugh about that.

She’d been saving money to leave him, and that same money was now being used to farewell him.

The man who had rescued her earlier today swam through her mind. He was a rude jerk. There was no doubt about that.

But he’d also been right. It had been her fault that she’d been nearly run over. She’d been too distracted. She wished she could say it was an unusual occurrence, but the problem was that Aimee often went into her head to try and escape reality.

It was a bad habit, and it didn’t help anything.

Because reality was always there waiting for you when you woke up. And usually things were worse than before you checked out.

It was getting harder and harder to stay positive.

“You just need some sleep,” she told herself. “Sleep will make everything better.”

Sleep and about fifty thousand dollars.

She wondered who that guy was. Her grumpy hero. Was he just somebody passing through? People didn’t really pass through Greasy Knob, though. They did all that they could to avoid the place.

So why was he here? Visiting family? Friends?

Aimee shook her head. She needed to stop thinking about him and his big, wide shoulders, gorgeous blue eyes, and that beard that she wanted to run her fingers through.