Chapter 4 #2
Though I suspected it, the news is still a blow.
She walked all the way to work. Two damn miles in the snow. And two miles back.
And now she’s limping.
Dammit. Why didn’t I ask if she needed a ride? Why didn’t I swing by The Laughing Goat to see if she had a way home?
Guilt settles heavy on my chest. “You didn’t have to,” I reply. “Of course you didn’t have to. But I would have given you a ride.” Should have given her a ride, if I’d been acting like a rational person instead of trying to get her out of my mind.
“You’ve already done enough,” she insists. “I would never ask you to drive me—” Pulling out of my arms, she takes a step back. But as soon as she puts weight on her right leg, it starts to buckle again.
And fuck, do I feel guilty about it.
“Stop.” I loop my arm around her waist. “You’re going to fall. Hurt yourself—”
“It’s fine. It’s just sore.”
“Sore?” I arch my eyebrows at her. “You almost fell. Twice.”
Her chin takes on that defiant tilt again. “I made it to work and back. And I only fell—” Her mouth snaps shut.
Guilt shifts to impotent anger.
She walked for miles. In pain. Fell who knows how many times.
Moving on instinct again, I take off Vienna’s backpack and sling it over one shoulder, then sweep Vienna into my arms, one beneath her legs and the other behind her back. She lets out a surprised sound and clutches my neck. “Caleb!”
“You’re hurt,” I state flatly. Holding her close to my chest, I stride towards the cabin. And dammit, she feels even lighter than I thought she would. “I don’t want you falling again.”
“I…” She sighs and sags against me. “Okay.”
Once I get to the door, I hold her with one arm while opening the door with the other. Then I walk inside, kick the door shut behind me, and carry Vienna over to the worn couch that faces the fireplace.
As soon as I set her down, she yelps and lifts her feet off the couch. “My boots,” she explains. “I don’t want to get it all wet.”
“Then I’ll take them off.” Kneeling beside her, I gently press her back to the couch when she tries to get up. “Just rest for a minute.”
She blinks at me while I remove one boot, then the other. Once her boots are off, I readjust her legs so they’re stretched across the couch. Then I head over to the door and kick my own boots off.
Crossing the small room, I head back to Vienna. She’s already pulled herself up to a seated position instead of lying down, where I left her. But she’s not standing, so I’ll count that as a win.
“What are you doing?” she asks. A little line forms between her brows. “I don’t understand.”
“Helping.” Grabbing the wooden chair adjacent to the couch, I drag it over so it’s next to it. Then I sink into the chair and look at Vienna. “You’re hurt. Don’t tell me you’re not. I know I’m not the nicest guy—”
She frowns. “I never said that.”
“I know you didn’t. But I’m not. I’m grouchy and I let you walk to work instead of offering you a ride like a normal person would. I like living alone so I don’t have to deal with people.”
Her face falls. “I’m sorry. I should leave—”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m just saying, I’m not some friendly guy. But I also don’t like seeing people in pain. And definitely not people I like.”
Vienna stares at me. “You like me?”
Well, shit. How did I get myself into this?
When I don’t answer right away, she starts to swing her legs around to get up. “It’s okay,” she says. “Forget I said—”
I lay my hand on her leg, stilling it. And I tell her the truth.
“I do like you. And whatever’s going on, I want to help.
Don’t ask me why. When I moved to Vermont three years ago, I thought my days of helping were over.
I wanted them over. But now? It’s different.
I can tell you’re in trouble, I can tell you’re hurting, and I don’t like it.
So just sit here. Don’t walk around and make your leg hurt even more. Please.”
Her pretty eyes go wide. I can see her thoughts working within. She wants to ask why. She doesn’t understand. But she wants to respect my wishes, too.
After a long silence, she settles back on the couch. Belatedly, I realize my hand is still on her leg. And despite how right it feels, I pull it away.
“I broke my leg,” Vienna says. “Eight months ago. In three places. I had to have surgery. PT. I was on crutches for months.”
“Shit.” My jaw clenches. “What happened?”
She sighs. “I’d just left work and was walking to my car.
It was late. I was crossing the street when a car came out of nowhere.
The driver hit me and just took off. It was dark, and I was in so much pain…
I didn’t see the license plate. I couldn’t ID the driver. So he—or she—just got away with it.”
I’m struck with a vision of Vienna sprawled on the street, her leg broken and bleeding, crying and in pain, while some piece of shit asshole got off without consequence.
“That fucker,” I mutter, while trying to swallow my rage.
Vienna nods. “Yeah. That’s what I thought, too. But I guess I’m lucky it wasn’t worse. I could have been killed.”
The rage ignites; white-hot and incendiary. And the urge to protect her is even stronger than ever.
Exhaling slowly, I ask, “What happened after that?”
“I was in the hospital. Several times. First after the accident, and then for the surgeries. There were months of physical therapy. Crutches. I couldn’t drive because—” She angles her chin at her right leg.
“Did you have anyone to help you?”
Shit. Why did I ask that? Of course she would have.
Except… if she had people to help, why was she sleeping in her car? Why did she have to stay at the cabin last night? Why did she have to walk four fucking miles to work and back?
Vienna gives me a sad smile. “At first, I did. Coworkers at the restaurant where I worked in Troy. Some of my classmates in the paramedic program I was in. But over time, a lot of them got tired of driving me to appointments. It wasn’t convenient. Everyone started to make excuses.”
So they deserted her?
Jaw tight with anger, I ask in a controlled tone, “Will you tell me what happened after? Why you ended up sleeping in your car? Because I don’t think it’s because you wanted to.”
She hesitates before shaking her head. “No, I didn’t want to.
But it seemed like the best option. I wanted to start over, and I thought a couple of weeks of car camping wouldn’t be too bad.
I researched it, you know. I went to at least ten thrift shops looking for cheap camping gear.
I thought it would be worth it if it meant I could start over. ”
I lean forward. “Why did you want to start over?”
There’s a long silence. Vienna’s gaze moves to the fireplace, and she stares at the blackened logs for a moment.
Then she looks back at me. “I lost my job. Being a server, I couldn’t exactly wait tables on crutches.
And being in and out of the hospital so much, I couldn’t find another job.
Then… I lost my apartment. Because I wasn’t making any money. ”
“Shit.”
“I had to drop out of school,” she continues. “I’d been so adamant about not taking out loans. But once I lost my job, I couldn’t pay for tuition. Then the hospital bills started coming in. I tried paying them with my credit card, but that only lasted so long.”
“Family?” I ask weakly.
“No. My mother left me behind when I was fifteen.” A bitter note sharpens her voice. “She thought I was old enough to take care of myself. So she just up and left. I spent the rest of high school in foster care.”
Shit.
“I thought I could work it all out,” Vienna adds.
“I just needed a little more time. But then… I was staying with a coworker—well, an ex-coworker—in her apartment. I paid her what I could and cleaned everything to make up for it. I thought things were okay. Until her jerkwad boyfriend decided to get into bed with me one night.”
My head jerks back. “What?”
“Yeah. Fortunately, I stopped him before he could do anything. But I screamed. My roommate came running into the room, and her boyfriend gave her this ridiculous story about how I tried to hook up with him. How I asked him to come into the room to help me and tried to seduce him.” Vienna makes a disgusted face.
“He wore a backward baseball cap. And jeans that dragged around his butt. As if I’d try to seduce him, even if he wasn’t dating my friend? ”
I’m still stuck on the part where this asshole climbed into Vienna’s bed without permission. My molars could shatter, I’m clenching them so hard.
“Anyway.” She makes a small gesture with her hand. “She believed him. Or she wanted to believe him, at least. And she told me I had to leave. Fortunately, she didn’t kick me out right then and there. She gave me a couple of weeks, which was just long enough to decide on Bliss and find a job here.”
“What about your other friends?” I ask once I trust myself to speak without yelling.
“They all worked at the restaurant. With her. It was easier for them to believe her than me.” Vienna gives another resigned smile.
“Even though my leg was strong enough that I didn’t need rides anymore, they still thought of me as an inconvenience.
A reminder of how life could turn to crap in a blink. ”
“Vienna.”
“I could have stayed in Troy. Or someplace else upstate,” she adds. “Sleep in my car for a few weeks out there. But then I thought of Bliss. I lived here for a few months, back when I was ten. I really liked it. The town just seemed so… nice. Friendly. Almost like a big family.”
“How long ago was that?” I ask, mainly because I want to know how old Vienna is and my mother told me it’s not polite to come right out and ask a woman.
“Eighteen years,” she replies with a tiny smirk that tells me she knows exactly what I’m doing.
“I know it could have changed a lot since then. But I drove here two weeks ago to interview for the dishwasher job at The Laughing Goat, and the town seemed a lot like how I remembered it. The manager said I could sit to rest my leg during the slow times, so that was a big plus. And I figured it would be safe, camping in my car here. I just never imagined last night would happen.”
“Do you regret it? Stopping for the dog?”
Her response is immediate. “No. I’m still glad I did. If I’d kept going and something happened to the dog… I would have felt so guilty.” Her gaze dips to her lap. When it rises again, it’s all shiny. “He was alone. He could have been hit by a car. And no one would have been around to help…”
Like her.
How must it have been for Vienna the last eight months? Hurting. Scared. Deserted by her selfish friends.
How lonely she must have felt.
It’s something I understand all too well.
And shit. I don’t want her to be alone anymore.
Pushing up from my chair, I head over to the fireplace. Crouching in front of it, I start piling fresh logs and kindling inside. Over my shoulder, I say to Vienna, “Stay there. I’m just getting the fire started. It’s too damn cold in here.”
Once the flames have taken hold, I get back up again.
Then I grab a folded blanket from the chest by the window, give it a sharp shake, and bring it over to Vienna.
I lay it over her legs and hold out my hand.
“Give me your coat,” I tell her. “I’ll hang it up for you. And get warm beneath the blanket.”
Her features wrinkle in confusion. “Caleb?”
“Coat.”
I can tell she wants to argue. But instead, she makes a small, annoyed sound and wriggles out of her coat. As soon as she hands it to me, I hang it on the coat rack by the front door, then cross the room to the kitchenette in the corner.
Glad that I checked the pipes last night, I turn on the faucet and fill one of the pots with water. I carry the pot over to the fireplace and get it set on an iron grate above the flames. Then I turn back to look at Vienna, who’s watching me with interest.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Making hot water for coffee,” I reply. “There should be some in the cabinet. My dad used to use this cabin as kind of a… retreat. And he always had coffee grounds and filters here.”
“Your dad?”
“Yeah. This was their property. They wanted to move to Florida, and I was moving back to Vermont, so it just made sense for me to buy it.”
“Oh.” Her lips curve slightly. “Did you grow up here?”
“I did.”
There are more questions in her eyes. But she doesn’t ask them. Instead, she says, “That’s nice. Being able to come home again.”
I hadn’t thought about it that way when I came here. Bliss was just a place to escape to. But I can see Vienna’s point.
“Okay,” I say as I head back to the door. “I’m going to run home, grab some food. But I’ll be right back.”
Vienna bites her lip. “Right. It’s past dinner time.” Her chin lifts. “You don’t have to come back. I can make the coffee. And I’m sure you have other things—”
I make a quick about-face and come back to the couch.
Then I touch her arm, though I have no right to do it.
“I’m not going home to eat. I’m getting food to bring here.
For you. And more blankets. My mom left some quilts that are really warm.
They should help. Plus some extra pillows to prop up your leg. ”
“You’re coming back? Tonight?”
“Yes.” Forget snowmobiles and watching Star Trek reruns in my empty house. I’d much rather be here, taking care of Vienna. “I’ll bring soup. A cooler with eggs and meat for sandwiches. I might even have some chocolate from Christmas left over.”
“Are you sure?” she asks. “You don’t have to do that.”
I give her arm a gentle squeeze. “I know I don’t. I want to.”
Vienna gives me a long look. Then she smiles. “As long as you eat dinner with me. Will you?”
An unfamiliar warmth fills my chest, and I find myself smiling back at her. “Absolutely.”