There are plenty of bogs and marshes in this part of the forest. That’s the only reason you made it as far as you did.”
She glanced toward the creek. “I’m pretty lucky that you showed up.”
He nodded. The enormity of her situation still astounded him. No, I’m the lucky one.
“You said my sister reported me?”
“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
“Louise Timpson.”
Kelsey looked at him for a full minute before she spoke. “Are you telling me the truth?”
“None of this sounds familiar, does it?” He didn’t think it would.
“No.”
Her lip trembled, and he was done talking. This conversation was going nowhere fast, and he couldn’t bear to hurt her anymore. The rest of it could wait.
“Why can’t I remember?”
He stilled, the anguish in her question the last thing he needed to hear.
“What else do you know?” She wiped a tear out of her eye and once more moved closer. She needed comfort, and he wanted to give it, but he had nothing good to offer.
“Come on,” she insisted. “Just because I can’t remember anything right now doesn’t mean I shouldn’t know who I used to be, does it? Maybe if you tell me, it’ll come back. It could, couldn’t it?”
He sighed as his knife dug deeper into the notched wood in his hand. “You lived in an apartment in Lakewood. You used to be a schoolteacher, and you’ve been to the emergency room a lot.”
“Why? What’s wrong with me? Am I sick? Am I dying?”
“No, you’re not sick.” He glanced at her, hoping that simple answer would suffice, but then he couldn’t look away. He saw it in her eyes. She trusted him to help her again. The only problem was this wasn’t just ointment and band-aids he had to offer. This was heartbreak.
“You’ve had quite a few broken bones and spiral fractures over the past few years,” he said somberly. “Do you understand what a spiral fracture is?”
“No.”
He faltered. If he were smart, he would distance himself right this very minute and be done with her. Too bad he never was that kind of smart.
“Come here. I’ll show you.”
Kelsey moved beside him. He took hold of her right forearm, instantly reminded how delicate she was, and how warm.
“A spiral fracture occurs if your arm is twisted like this.” He took hold of her wrist and elbow and barely twisted his hands in opposite directions. “The twisting motion causes too much torque. The bone fractures because both ends are turning in different directions, but it’s not a clean break. Your arm’s been broken like this a couple times.” He rubbed his fingers along the length of her forearm. He might have been trailing a path of sparks. The energy off this woman amazed him. Did she feel it, too? He couldn’t tell, but neither could he breathe.
“Feel this spot right here.”
She pressed her fingers where he had traced. “I feel it. It’s a bump.”
“Yes. It’s where your bone was broken, and then twisted again before it had a chance to heal.” He released her arm before he made a fool of himself and pulled her onto his lap again. She already sat too close. The misery in her eyes compelled him to care more than he knew he should. She was damaged goods, another man’s wife. He had no business thinking about her, much less caring for her the way he did. Even though every male instinct urged him to keep her safe, he couldn’t. She wasn’t his to protect—or keep.
“Your husband’s out of work most of the time. He’s got a police record,” he muttered.
“For hurting me?” she asked timidly.
“He should be shot for hurting you!” The words blurted out of his big mouth before he had time to think. He stifled his emotions. “No. His record’s just petty thievery, shooting dogs, and other stuff the police actually caught him doing.”
“You mean they haven’t actually caught him hurting me?”
Alex bit his lip. Her husband’s police record was the last thing she needed to worry about. He bowed his head to the
She glanced toward the creek. “I’m pretty lucky that you showed up.”
He nodded. The enormity of her situation still astounded him. No, I’m the lucky one.
“You said my sister reported me?”
“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
“Louise Timpson.”
Kelsey looked at him for a full minute before she spoke. “Are you telling me the truth?”
“None of this sounds familiar, does it?” He didn’t think it would.
“No.”
Her lip trembled, and he was done talking. This conversation was going nowhere fast, and he couldn’t bear to hurt her anymore. The rest of it could wait.
“Why can’t I remember?”
He stilled, the anguish in her question the last thing he needed to hear.
“What else do you know?” She wiped a tear out of her eye and once more moved closer. She needed comfort, and he wanted to give it, but he had nothing good to offer.
“Come on,” she insisted. “Just because I can’t remember anything right now doesn’t mean I shouldn’t know who I used to be, does it? Maybe if you tell me, it’ll come back. It could, couldn’t it?”
He sighed as his knife dug deeper into the notched wood in his hand. “You lived in an apartment in Lakewood. You used to be a schoolteacher, and you’ve been to the emergency room a lot.”
“Why? What’s wrong with me? Am I sick? Am I dying?”
“No, you’re not sick.” He glanced at her, hoping that simple answer would suffice, but then he couldn’t look away. He saw it in her eyes. She trusted him to help her again. The only problem was this wasn’t just ointment and band-aids he had to offer. This was heartbreak.
“You’ve had quite a few broken bones and spiral fractures over the past few years,” he said somberly. “Do you understand what a spiral fracture is?”
“No.”
He faltered. If he were smart, he would distance himself right this very minute and be done with her. Too bad he never was that kind of smart.
“Come here. I’ll show you.”
Kelsey moved beside him. He took hold of her right forearm, instantly reminded how delicate she was, and how warm.
“A spiral fracture occurs if your arm is twisted like this.” He took hold of her wrist and elbow and barely twisted his hands in opposite directions. “The twisting motion causes too much torque. The bone fractures because both ends are turning in different directions, but it’s not a clean break. Your arm’s been broken like this a couple times.” He rubbed his fingers along the length of her forearm. He might have been trailing a path of sparks. The energy off this woman amazed him. Did she feel it, too? He couldn’t tell, but neither could he breathe.
“Feel this spot right here.”
She pressed her fingers where he had traced. “I feel it. It’s a bump.”
“Yes. It’s where your bone was broken, and then twisted again before it had a chance to heal.” He released her arm before he made a fool of himself and pulled her onto his lap again. She already sat too close. The misery in her eyes compelled him to care more than he knew he should. She was damaged goods, another man’s wife. He had no business thinking about her, much less caring for her the way he did. Even though every male instinct urged him to keep her safe, he couldn’t. She wasn’t his to protect—or keep.
“Your husband’s out of work most of the time. He’s got a police record,” he muttered.
“For hurting me?” she asked timidly.
“He should be shot for hurting you!” The words blurted out of his big mouth before he had time to think. He stifled his emotions. “No. His record’s just petty thievery, shooting dogs, and other stuff the police actually caught him doing.”
“You mean they haven’t actually caught him hurting me?”
Alex bit his lip. Her husband’s police record was the last thing she needed to worry about. He bowed his head to the
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