His shallow breaths were her only answer.
She pushed up on her elbows. “Wyatt. You okay?”
He let out another moan and jerked onto his back. His head thrashed side to side.
This was not an aching wound. This was a nightmare. Heaven knew she’d had plenty of those. They’d plagued her childhood.
He was moaning more frequently, interrupted only by stuttering breaths.
She couldn’t stand to see him suffer even in his sleep.
“Wyatt.” She squirmed from her bag, inching over. If she could just nudge him a little, maybe he’d wake up enough to shift position. To dispel the nightmare.
“Wyatt.” She shook his arm. “I think you’re having—”
He struck out.
She flew backward, pain exploding in her head. And then his weight pressed her to the cement floor.
* * *
The feminine cry startled him from sleep. The nightmare evaporated instantly. Grace appeared in his vision.
Beneath him. Eyes wide in the darkness.
He was squeezing her wrists over her head.
He let her go. Pushed off her. The last five seconds played back in his head. He’d attacked her. He’d hit her.
“Grace.”
She was palming her cheek, breaths ragged, the whites of her eyes prominent.
His brain scrambled for purchase. He clambered for his backpack, his hands shaking. He fumbled with the zipper. Found his first-aid kit. Grasped the cold pack. Twisted until it popped and shook it.
He eased closer to Grace, then gently pressed the cooling pack to her cheek. It was too dark to see if her cheek was swelling. The memory of his strike played on repeat, the terrible thwack sound.
Regret squeezed his heart like a vise. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I—I think so.” But by the halting way she answered he could tell her head was still ringing.
He gently cupped the other side of her face with his other hand. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t say it enough.
“It’s—it’s okay. You didn’t mean to.”
“It’s not okay.”
“You were dreaming.”
“Does anything else hurt? The back of your head? I think you knocked it pretty good.”
“No, I—I don’t think so.”
She was partially on her sleeping bag. That may have saved her from a knot on the back of her head, because he’d tackled her pretty hard. He may have even bruised her wrists.
He looked her in the eyes, wishing for some light. “Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”
“Just a little headache. Man, you’re fast. I hardly blinked and I was flat on my back.”
“Not helping.” He pressed her hand to the cold pack. “Hold that.”
He grabbed his flashlight, returned to her, and shone it in her eyes.
She winced and turned away at the brightness.
“Sorry. I need to check your pupils.”
She accommodated him, blinking. Her pupils were equal and reactive. Thank God. While he had the light he checked the wound and winced at the swelling and redness. She’d have a heck of a bruise in the morning.
“I’ll be fine.” She pushed the flashlight away from her face. “That’s some backhand you’ve got, Jennings.”
His breath left his body, his head dropping between his shoulders.
She gave a weak laugh. “I’m kidding. Stop torturing yourself. It was an accident.”
He pulled the first-aid kit close and grabbed the packet of ibuprofen. He handed them to her with a bottled water, and she sat up to take them.
“What time is it?” she asked once she’d downed the pills.
He checked his watch. “Almost three. Sorry I woke you. Sorry I—” Slugged you in the face? Tackled you to the ground? Scared the ever-loving snot out of you?
“I’m a tough cookie.” She squeezed his hand and lay back against her pack. “Must’ve been some dream.”
The nightmare traipsed through his mind before he could stop it. At least he’d awakened before the worst of it. Before his mom’s voice had gone quiet. Before the hours he’d cowered in the corner of that tent, trembling, listening desperately for her voice. Waiting for her return. “Yeah.”
“Not uncommon after what you went through.”
How did she—? Oh, she was talking about the shooting.
“I should’ve known better than to wake you like that.”
He didn’t want to talk about it. “We should probably get a little more sleep. Try to keep that cold pack in place.”
He helped her back into her sleeping bag, noting her wince as she settled, trapping the cold pack between her cheek and the backpack. Then he dragged his own bag a few extra feet away just in case.
Weariness weighted his shoulders, but he wouldn’t sleep any more tonight. He’d lie awake and make sure he wasn’t a danger to Grace.
Chapter Twenty
Grace stirred and pain stilled her movement. Her head ached. So did her arms and back—her whole body really. The night came rushing back. The nightmare, the strike, the lightning-quick tackle.
She opened her eyes to the soft gray light of dawn. A small fire burned in the fireplace and the rain had finally stopped.
She felt the puffiness of her swollen cheek. She tested her limbs and found them stiff and achy. Nothing a little movement wouldn’t improve.
She glanced toward Wyatt’s pallet, but he was gone. The place where his sleeping bag had lain was barren. The sight brought her fully awake. She pushed up. “Wyatt?”
The picnic table blocked the area behind her, and the frayed edges of night still clung to the woods around the shelter. She listened for sounds of movement but heard only the quiet drips of water falling from treetops to the padded forest floor.
Her heartbeat thrummed in her aching head. “Wyatt?”
A scuttling sound came from behind her.
“You’re awake.” He appeared above the picnic table, looking like he’d been up for hours. Upon sight of her, he flinched.
She touched her cheek. “That bad?”
“Bad enough I wish I had more ibuprofen.”
“I have a packet in my bag.” She scrounged around for it, because, yes, her head was cranking. She found the pills and downed them, then glanced up at Wyatt. For a man with a poker face, he was wearing regret this morning like a neon suit.
“Don’t you dare apologize again. It probably looks worse than it feels.” She didn’t have a mirror to confirm that, but she couldn’t stand that he was beating himself up over this. She knew he’d never intentionally hurt her.
She stretched. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven. The sun’ll be rising soon, but we can wait till the painkillers kick in.”
She pushed out of the bag, feeling every muscle ache. “Not necessary. We may as well pack up and hit the road.”
“We’re already packed except your bag.”
She was on her feet now and looking around. Sure enough, his sleeping bag was rolled and attached to his backpack. The clothes she had drying were folded and lying on the hearth. The water collection system he’d rigged was gone. His backpack bulged with at least seven full water bottles.
“How long have you been up?”
“Awhile.” He turned the picnic table upright and set down two apples and a bag of peanuts. “Let’s fuel up and head out then.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Aahh!” Grace said as they came down the hill that turned onto Bayview Drive. “Civilization at last.”
It was late in the day. The sun had already set behind the mountains. The last of the pain pills had worn off long ago, and her head throbbed with each step. Otherwise, the walk had been easy.
“Now we just have to get to the trailhead where we left your car.”
“It’s not far.”
People were out and about. Boats on the lake. Joggers out for evening exercise. People driving to restaurants for supper. She considered borrowin
g a phone, but they were almost home, and she didn’t want to hear Molly squawking in her ear yet.
When they reached the car, Grace gratefully let the backpack fall off her shoulders, and Wyatt stowed it in the trunk with the rest of their things.
“Want me to drive?”
“Sure.” She tossed him the keys and slid into the passenger side. She didn’t realize how weary she was until her weight sagged into the cushy seat. She plugged in her phone, which was so dead it didn’t even come on, then laid her head against the headrest. Oh, her bed was going to feel good tonight.
Wyatt started up the car and pulled onto the street.
“That was some trek, huh?” she said.
“You can say that again.”
“I meant what I said before. I’m happy to help you figure out where to search next or whatever. There’s a really detailed map at the library that might help narrow it down. We probably should’ve started there.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel, the bones in the backs of his hands fanning out in stark relief. “Haven’t scared you away yet?”
“Are you kidding? You’re pretty great in an emergency, you know. I just have to remember to keep my distance when you’re sleeping.”
Predictably, he winced.
She chuckled. “Seriously, I’m going to keep making jokes until you can laugh about this.”
He grunted.
She was tempted to pull down the visor and check out the damage, but she didn’t want to make him feel even worse. “I can’t wait to take a hot shower and wash my hair.”
“Food’s number one on my priority list.”
“I wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee either.”
“Amen.”
They rounded the lake and entered town, getting stopped at the only two stoplights in town. Grace checked her phone. There was finally enough battery power to turn it on. But by the time the phone was powered up, they were pulling into a slot in front of the inn. Home. Grace could’ve broken out into the “Hallelujah” chorus.
“I’ll get the gear.” Wyatt slid from the car.
Grace opened her door, got out, and groaned. Her muscles seemed to have seized up during the short ride.
She hobbled toward the back of the car, her phone buzzing in her hand, all the downloads coming in at once. Multiple texts and voice mails. Molly. She should probably go straight inside and—
From the corner of her eye a flash of blue caught her attention. Levi, barreling toward Wyatt.
The trunk shut with a slam, revealing Wyatt loaded down with gear.
Grace opened her mouth, a scream caught in her throat.
Levi’s fist flew.
Wyatt stumbled backward.
“Levi!” Grace jumped between them, strong-arming Levi.
Her brother pressed in hard, towering over her, glaring at Wyatt. “Get out of the way, Grace!”
“Stop it, Levi! What are you doing?”
Wyatt bristled behind her. The packs hit the ground with a thump. “Step aside,” he told her in a low growl.
Levi’s face was red, a scowl pulling his brows tight. “What did he do to you? Did he hit you?” His eyes burned into Wyatt.
“No! Stop this right now. Levi! The bridge was flooded. We had to go around. Now back off, dufus, before he lays you flat on your butt!”
“And that shiner you’re sporting? How’d you get that, huh? You run into a tree?”
“It was an accident. Step back, Levi!” She gave him a hard shove, but he hardly budged.
“And the limp? Was that an accident too?”
Grace leveled a glare at him. “I’ve slept on the ground for two nights, genius. Step. Back.”
Levi’s shoulders gave two more heaves before he lowered his gaze to Grace. Maybe he finally realized he’d made her honking mad, because he took one slow step back.
She exhaled and turned to Wyatt. His jaw was already meaty red, and his face was like stone as he glowered at Levi. Two days’ scruff had given him a dangerous look. But neither of those things worried her half as much as the feral gleam in his eyes. Or the way he was braced, one foot forward, as if poised to strike.
“You okay?” Grace put a hand on his chest. Touched his jaw. “Wyatt. Look at me.”
Long seconds later he dropped his gaze to Grace.
“You all right? Nothing broken?”
Some of the fire left his eyes.
“What on earth?” Molly came running from the house, sizing up the situation. “What’s going on? Are you all right, Grace?” Her eyes zeroed in on her sister’s face as her feet slowed. “Oh my gosh, what happened?”
“Our brother punched Wyatt in the face, that’s what happened.” Grace whirled around to her brother. “See, Levi? That’s what reasonable people do when confronted with a set of circumstances they don’t understand. They stop and ask a few questions!”
“You were supposed to be home last night. And Dirty Harry here has a gun.”
Grace’s eyes snapped to Molly. “You just had to tell him.”
Wyatt stepped away from her, and she felt a prick of guilt for exposing him.
“We were worried!” Molly said. “You go off with a stranger—no offense, Wyatt—then you call and tell me he’s carrying, and you don’t show up when you’re supposed to. Not for a whole day! Not a text, nothing. Of course I told him. Of course we were worried. You’re our baby sister.”
Grace let out a low growl.
“And then you come home with a shiner,” Levi added. “What were we supposed to think?”
“I told you, it was an accident. And there was no signal. We would’ve been on time but the bridge on Cut Away Road was flooded. We had to go all the way around. What would you have me do? Send Indian signals?”
Some of the starch left Levi’s shoulders. “Well, we didn’t know all that.”
“You could’ve asked like a reasonable person before you started throwing punches.”
“Agreed. He shouldn’t have done that, especially since the man carries.” Molly nailed Levi with a look. “But in all fairness, we were so worried we called Chief Dalton last night. The police and game wardens were out searching for you, not to mention us.”
Grace palmed her forehead. “You what?”
“Maybe I should just go,” Wyatt said.
Grace grabbed his sleeve. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. And you’re not finished here.” She faced her siblings. “If you had any idea how this man’s come through for me the last couple days, you’d be thanking him instead of making accusations and punching him in the face, Levi.”
Her brother cupped the back of his neck, his sheepish look bouncing off Wyatt. “Sorry ’bout that, man. Guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
“You think?” Anger churned in Grace’s stomach.
“I’m sorry too,” Molly muttered. “I promise we’re not normally this crazy.”
“Great.” Grace propped her hands on her hips. “Now that that’s settled, we’re going inside to ice his jaw. And you’re going to call Chief Dalton and clear this up.” She marched Wyatt right past them and into the house.
Two hours later, Grace was fed, showered, in her pj’s, and in a much better frame of mind. Her siblings had wisely kept their distance while Grace heated up some chili and cornbread. Wyatt’s jaw didn’t look too bad after being iced. Either her brother didn’t pack much of a punch or Wyatt had jaws of steel.
He’d been tense and guarded with her in the kitchen. She couldn’t blame him. Not only had Grace blabbed to Molly about his gun, but he’d been attacked by his host. He’d continued to make overtures about finding another place to stay, but Grace thought she convinced him to stick around, at least for now.
In her en suite bathroom Grace dragged a comb through her damp hair, wincing as she glanced at her bruised cheekbone. The discoloration and swelling carried to her outer eye, making it look like a shiner. Makeup would help. She hoped.
A knock sounded at the door. Grace straightened f
rom the mirror and went to open it, hoping for Wyatt.
Instead she got Molly, who stepped across the threshold and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re all right. I was so worried, and Levi was too. I know he acted like an idiot, but don’t be too hard on him. Between the two of us, he was the levelheaded one. I was ready to call in the National Guard.”
“Never expected him to go all Rambo on us.” Grace gave in to the hug. Was Levi an alpha male after all and she just never realized it? “I’m sorry I worried you. I shouldn’t have mentioned the gun.”
Molly pulled back. “Why did you?”
Grace led her sister into her room and plopped onto the bed. “I admit I was a little concerned at first, and maybe I wanted someone to know, just in case. But Molly, remember those guys I mentioned, the campers? One of them got me alone and harassed me. Manhandled me, actually, and I thought I was toast. Then Wyatt showed up and . . . let’s just say he took care of the guy—of all three guys. He protected me, and he was really something to see.”
“Wow. That must’ve been scary. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“That guy—is that how you got this?” Molly touched her tender cheek.
“No, that was—Wyatt was having a nightmare, and I woke him up and startled him. It was an accident. He felt terrible.”
Molly studied Grace. “You’re very protective of him. You got right between him and Levi. You were defending him against our brother.”
“Only because Levi was in the wrong. Trust me, if Wyatt had decided to retaliate, Levi would’ve needed defending. Our brother would be in the hospital right now. But that’s not who Wyatt is.” She nearly told Molly he was a Secret Service agent but didn’t want to break his confidence. “He’s a good guy. A really good guy.”
Molly’s face softened. “A lot must’ve happened out there. I’ve never seen you quite like this.”
Grace dragged her fingers through her damp strands. She didn’t know how to put into words how she felt about Wyatt. And had no desire to figure it out right now, with Molly watching every thought flitter across her face.
“Levi called Chief Dalton and explained what happened, so everything’s cool now. Is Wyatt angry?”
Autumn Skies: 3 (A Bluebell Inn Romance) Page 11