arms, Tommy would say. She was thankful every day that he’d let her live in his house when things had become...too much...but sometimes his constant concern for her—the endless checking up to see if she was okay—was another kind of too much.
“Ma’am?”
The male voice came from somewhere above her head and, within seconds, Avery had uncurled from her position and bolted upright to face its owner.
The last time she’d had an episode, her sister-in-law, Macy, had found Avery in Sylvia’s room. That was plenty awkward, especially when the two women had to work out how to explain to Avery’s five-year-old niece why her aunt was crouched, armed, in the child’s bedroom closet.
That was when her brother insisted they clear the house of anything “dangerous” she might end up wielding in self-defense when one of the flashbacks hit. He didn’t know about the baseball bat she kept hidden under her bed in case she needed to protect her family.
“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” Tommy had said in the same sotto voce he used with his children, while refusing to meet her eyes. “We just can’t risk anything happening. It’s for the best.”
Avery’s stomach churned at the memory. The worst part was, her brother was absolutely correct. If she’d had anywhere else to go after that, she would have. But she did not. And, worse, she was completely dependent on the few remaining people in her life—the few that hadn’t given up on her—for everything.
But that was the last time.
This time, from what little she could deduce in a quick survey of her surroundings, might just turn out to be downright humiliating.
He spoke again. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” he asked. “Are you lost?”
Avery almost grinned at that last part, because yes, indeed, she was very, very lost.
The only thing that stopped her was the tone of the man’s voice. Glancing around, she could see that she was completely alone in some dirt hole on the side of a gravel country road, in—she looked down at her body—a thin white tank and army-issue workout shorts. Clearly she was at the mercy of this guy, who’d evidently stopped to check on her. Under other circumstances, her training would have kicked in and she’d have flipped him onto his back in mere seconds.
But something told her he wasn’t a threat.
His voice.
It was deep and smooth, his words bathed in the local accent, and full of genuine concern. On top of that, he stood above the ditch staring down at her, hands at his sides, and hadn’t made a single move to come closer. The man seemed...safe.
Having lost her bat somewhere along the way, she braced herself for an attack when he bent his knees, but instead of jumping into the ditch with her like she thought he might, the man simply knelt down.
The movement brought attention to long, muscled thighs beneath faded denim jeans, and when he leaned an elbow on his upright knee, Avery noticed the stretch of tendons in his sinewy forearms.
How ridiculous it was, she thought, for her to notice such a stupid thing when her life could be in danger for all she knew. Seeing as how the guy hadn’t mauled her by now, it probably wasn’t, but still—it could be.
Avery crossed her arms over her thinly clad chest. Not that there was much to see there. Not anymore.
“I’m fine, actually. Just...taking a walk. Enjoying the stars and all.” She waved a hand above her, indicating the spread of twinkling lights above them. It was plausible.
But when she looked up into his eyes, she could tell he didn’t agree. The man looked to be somewhere near her own age, maybe slightly older, and Avery was surprised she’d never seen him before. She’d grown up in Peach Leaf and knew just about everybody, so it was strange that she hadn’t met this person.
Sure as hell would remember if she had.
Not only did he have the toned body of someone who either worked at it or had a very active job—he had a face to do it justice. Clear, dark chocolate eyes—eyes that had a certain glint in them, as though they saw more than most—a strong jaw and hair the color of a panther’s coat.
Right now those brown eyes narrowed with what appeared to be strong suspicion, but after a few seconds, they filled with a certain kind of warmth Avery wasn’t used to seeing anymore.
Pity—she was used to that—but not warmth.
“It is a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he said, seeming to relax a little.
There was something easy about him that made Avery want to let her guard down a smidge. It was almost as if his mere presence lowered her blood pressure.
“That it is,” she agreed, wanting the strange exchange to be over so she could figure out how far she’d gotten and how, for the love of all things holy, she was supposed to get back home.
“Name’s Isaac,” the man said, stretching out a large hand.
Even in the dark, Avery could see calluses and healed-over scratches. Must be some kind of laborer.
She just stared at him, not offering her name, willing him to take his leave. It would be futile to try to explain the complexities of her condition, as she’d come to think of it, to this handsome stranger. She didn’t even completely understand it herself, even after almost a year of therapy. Besides, her knees were beginning to feel a little wobbly and a spot just above her left temple had started to ache...
“Well, if you’re all set here—” he looked like he believed her to be anything but “—I’ve got a walk ahead of me.”
Isaac hesitated for a long moment, then nodded and turned to leave.
Avery was about to do the same when everything went blacker than the night sky.
* * *
Isaac had just started back toward his truck—every nerve in his body telling him to stay behind—when he heard a thud.
He whipped back around and broke into a run when he saw that the woman had collapsed in a heap, dust billowing around her.
Crap.
He knew he should have stayed put and tried to talk her into letting him help. It didn’t take a genius to see she was in some kind of trouble.
Walking even a few yards away from her had gone against his every instinct, but he hadn’t planned to actually leave her alone in the middle of the night, not for a single moment. He just needed a second to regroup.
His legs made quick work of the distance that separated them and seconds later he plunged into the ditch and reached her side, lifting the woman’s negligible weight into his arms and propping her up so she might draw in deeper breaths. Her skin was clammy and she seemed to flutter on the verge of consciousness as she pulled in shallow doses of air.
Isaac had no idea what steps to take from there; as a certified dog trainer, he was generally better prepared for canine emergencies than those of his own species. His heart beat frantically for several long minutes as he held her, waiting for her to come back so he could better help her. As slow seconds beat past, he studied the woman in his grasp, seeing for the first time how lovely she was.
Her long blond hair seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, its corn-silk strands tickling his arms where it fell. Creamy skin, just a shade or two lighter than her hair, lay like soft linen over sculpted cheekbones, creating a perfect canvas for full lips and large eyes, the color of which he suddenly longed to know.
She wore a white T-shirt and athletic shorts, and Isaac grimaced when he caught sight of the sharp ridge of collarbone peeking out the top of the threadbare cotton. She was so very thin. No wonder lifting her had felt no more difficult than picking up Jane. A glint of metal got his attention and he reached up to search for a pendant attached to a silver chain around her neck, adjusting her so he could remain supporting her with one arm.
Running