Chapter 20
MELISSA
I really screwed up this time.
If I’d just been paying closer attention, this wouldn’t have happened. But how could I not be distracted?
I thought going back into the woods might help me sort through my thoughts. Possibly even come up with a solution to the mess I’m in.
Guilt pricks at me, and my hand instinctively comes to my lower abdomen. Not a mess, I silently tell the life growing inside me. You’re not a mess. Never you. But everything else… I’m just not sure what to do.
I hold my hand still for a few seconds, as though I might be able to feel a flutter of movement in acknowledgement. It’s a silly thing to imagine, given that the baby couldn’t be more than six or seven weeks. But still, I can’t help wishing.
The fear I’ve been trying to contain makes a bid to escape.
It keeps getting bigger and fiercer with every minute that passes.
Despite the reassurances I’ve been trying to tell myself—babies that small are well protected, I’m not having any cramps, there isn’t any bleeding—it’s not much help.
All I keep thinking is that something bad happened to it, and it’s all my fault.
A small, wounded sound escapes, and along with it, a fresh flood of tears. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to my belly. “Please stay with me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
There’s no answer, of course. The only sounds are the whisper of rustling leaves from the branches overhead, and the gentle panting of Oscar, sitting beside me.
Sensing my distress, Oscar nudges my arm. His ears are tucked back, and his tail is down. Worried eyes meet mine, and if he could talk, I swear he’d be telling me how sorry he is.
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. My breath comes in shudders as I try to stop crying. Oscar whines and butts my arm with his nose again.
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. Giving him a little scratch between his ears, I add, “I should have been paying better attention.”
But I ran after the squirrel, his eyes seem to say. I’m the one who pulled you off balance. It’s my fault you’re down here. And I’m so sorry.
“It’s not your fault,” I repeat. Then I lean over to hug him, ignoring the flare of pain from the movement. Burying my face in his fur, I squeeze my eyes shut while I breathe in his familiar, comforting scent. “It’s not your fault, Oskie. And you’re a very good boy for staying with me.”
At the words, good boy, his tail gives a tiny wag, but it quickly droops again.
He’s not convinced.
But I am. It’s my fault I’m stuck at the bottom of a hill I didn’t even know existed. Not his.
After all, if I’d been paying attention to my surroundings instead of walking distractedly through them, I’d have reacted faster when Oscar spotted the two squirrels as they made their mad dash through the forest. Oscar’s well-trained, but the temptation of not one squirrel, but two?
And both of them chittering away, making it impossible not to notice them?
If I’d been more aware, I would have warned Oscar before he lunged at them. But my mind was somewhere between moving back to South Carolina to stay with my parents and Tyler’s betrayed expression as he accused me of tricking him.
So I didn’t stop Oscar. And he went darting off into the thick of the trees, using all eighty pounds of his body to drag me along with him.
If circumstances had been different, I might have ended up with some scrapes and scratches, but that would have been the worst of it.
Except these circumstances involved me getting towed to the edge of a surprisingly steep slope that drops to a narrow stream beneath. And while Oscar managed to avoid falling down it, I wasn’t as lucky.
So I went tumbling down a good ten-foot drop before landing half-in, half-out of an icy cold stream. I tried to slow my descent by grabbing onto a tree on the way, but all I managed to do was peel off a few layers of skin on my hands.
When I first landed, stunned and breathless, I didn’t feel anything.
But then I tried to get back up, and my body resisted. My head spun from the hard rap it received from a rock at the edge of the water. My ribs screamed from the motion. And the moment I put weight on my left leg, my ankle folded beneath me.
Even then, I didn’t truly believe I was stuck. I was certain that, given a few minutes of rest, I’d be able to climb up the hill and limp my way back to Tyler’s cabin.
Tyler’s cabin. Not ours. I’d had a hope of it being ours, one day.
But given everything that happened—the conversation about my job, an apartment, and the latest news about my shocking pregnancy—I don’t see how things could work out that way.
Not when Tyler essentially told me to move three thousand miles away.
If that’s not the sign of a man who wants to end things, I’m not sure what is.
If that wasn’t bad enough, he’s going to think I tricked him into getting pregnant, too.
Well, assuming I ever get to tell him at all, and I don’t end up wasting away right on the Blade and Arrow property.
“No,” I say out loud, as though that gives the statement more merit.
“Don’t be stupid.” After all, eventually, Tyler will realize I’m missing.
He’ll ask around; find out from Eden that I took Oscar back out on the trails.
He’ll go looking for me, and with only thirteen acres to search, he’s bound to find me.
Unless he thinks I took off on him.
Unless he decided he’s better off without me.
“Stop it.” This time my tone is scolding. “Just because Tyler doesn’t want me to stay, that doesn’t mean he won’t come looking for me.”
Rationally, I know it’s true. Tyler’s a protector to his core, and if he thinks I’m in trouble, he’ll do something about it. And I’m sure he cares about me. Just not as much as I care about him.
Just thinking about Tyler starts me crying all over again.
I wish he were here.
Actually, if I’m thinking about what I really wish for, I wish I was back at the cabin, snuggled up on the couch with ice packs and a snuggly blanket and Oscar snoozing by my feet.
Tyler would come bustling into the room with a tray full of snacks, and then he’d join me on the couch, gently lifting my injured ankle onto his lap while he checks it.
I can see his dark head bent over my foot, and in profile, his features are creased with concern. His hands are gentle as he lightly strokes my skin. Then his green-gold eyes meet mine—more green than gold, like they tend to turn whenever he’s worried—and he asks me how I’m feeling.
And then, in my wishful fantasy, his hand moves to cover my stomach. “The little one is safe and sound in there,” he assures me. “The doctor said there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I still feel guilty I fell,” I tell him. “I should have been—”
“No, Mel.” He silences me with a kiss. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was an accident.” His eyes soften with affection. “And really, the only thing that matters is that the woman I love is okay.”
“And the baby?” I ask, still a little nervous about it.
“Of course the baby,” he replies, and kisses me again. “Both of you.”
With my face still buried in Oscar’s neck, I allow myself a wistful moment to pretend my fantasy is real. But when I lift my head to look at my surroundings again, reality comes crashing back in.
Tyler isn’t here.
I’m stuck at the bottom of this stupid hill after letting myself get towed along on a hapless squirrel chase.
My ankle is injured badly enough that I can’t walk on it.
My body aches all over.
The baby may or may not be okay. Assuming the test Eden gave me was accurate, and I really am pregnant, despite everything the doctor told me six years ago.
And whenever Tyler finds me, it’s not going to be the joyous reunion I’d like it to be. Because I’m going to have to tell him how, against all odds, I’m carrying his baby.
Deciding to make another attempt to climb up the hill, I pull my legs beneath me and use my hands to push myself up.
Tiny rocks dig into my raw and bleeding skin.
I put my weight onto my right foot first, which is fine.
But as soon as I lean on my left, pain explodes through my ankle and it immediately buckles.
“Crap.” Without thinking, I smack my palm on the ground in frustration. Which does nothing aside from make my hand hurt more than it did already, and probably embedded some extra pebbles alongside the ones already there. “Stupid ankle.”
I look up the hill, trying to figure out if there’s a way to crawl my way up it, instead. It shouldn’t be that hard, in theory, with all the trees available as handholds. And with both hands and one good leg… maybe now that I’ve had some time to get my bearings, I’ll be able to do it.
“It’s going to hurt,” I warn myself. “Holding onto those tree trunks isn’t going to feel good. And my knees are going to end up a mess.”
A quick look at my legs makes me snort. They’re already a mess of scratches and bruises. A few more aren’t going to make a difference.
As I inspect the hill, searching for the best route to take, I shiver. While I was perfectly comfortable walking the trails in a T-shirt and shorts, now that I’m stationary and half-soaked from the stream, I’m much colder. And the sun seems to have dipped behind the clouds, so that doesn’t help.
“All the more reason to get up this hill,” I say. Oscar turns to me with a questioning gaze, and I explain, “I’m going to try to climb up. It’s not going to be pretty. Or pleasant. But I’m going to try to do it.”
Yes, I could wait however long it takes for Tyler or one of his friends to find me. But I’d rather not wait. Not when I really, really want to get to a doctor so they can tell me if the baby’s okay.
Oh, and maybe take a look at my ankle, as well. I’m no medical professional, but judging from the swelling, I’d say it’s sprained at best, and broken, at worst.