LITMIR.BIZ

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his damp skin. After dealing with the deputy and the no-nonsense female paramedic who could have taken him in a fair fight and then climbing the ladder to the loft, he barely had the energy left to do battle with his clothing. Finally, he kicked the last bit of his jeans free and collapsed onto the bed.

      He hurt.

      He had a hellacious bruise where the seat belt had cut into him, a large bump on the side of his head where he’d hit the doorframe and general soreness from tensing up during an adrenaline spike.

      He was going to hurt more in the morning, once the shock wore off. So be it. Pain was an old friend. At one point, he’d embraced physical pain because it distracted him from the real anguish in his life, and, because of that, he now had a huge stash of unused meds. A scary stash. One that he should have gotten rid of a long time ago, but kept as a remembrance of surviving when he wasn’t certain he’d wanted to. But he’d soldiered on for his little girl. And for Lissa, who wouldn’t have wanted him to give in to the pain.

      He closed his eyes, thinking that he’d pull the blanket up over him in a moment. The next thing he knew, gray light was filtering in through the windows and he was shivering on his side. He reached out for the blanket and groaned as his body rebelled.

      Maybe he wasn’t remembering correctly. Maybe he’d been hit by a truck instead of rolling down a hill. It certainly felt as if he’d made close contact with a Peterbilt. There was no way he was going back to sleep, so Drew swung his legs out of bed, then sat for a moment before forcing himself to his feet.

      He didn’t pee red.

      Now he didn’t have to stop by for that checkup that Brunhild the paramedic had insisted on. He’d pop a few ibuprofens and wait for Deb’s call—because Faith had made it clear that she wasn’t going to keep her mouth shut. He comforted himself with the knowledge that Pete would intercept any call from Deb to Maddie, to keep Deb from upsetting her. Drew didn’t want his daughter to know that he’d come close to buying it again. She was insecure enough about loss as it was.

      Drew pulled a pair of sweats out of the antique armoire that served as a closet. No jeans today. He struggled into them, jammed his feet into his moccasins and gingerly pulled a long-sleeve T-shirt over his head. He got stuck halfway through the process. He let out a breath, gathered his strength and managed to pull the shirt into place.

      Once dressed, he sat back on the bed and caught his breath.

      He had a Jeep to winch up the side of a mountain. Probably some serious bodywork ahead of him. The radiator had been hissing and spewing when he’d started climbing the hill, so add that to the list. He’d call Pete in a bit, arrange to haul his sorry rig up the mountain and tow it to the shop. Pete was a hell of a lot better at bodywork than he was, so he’d offer a trade of some kind.

      Drew preferred paying in cold hard cash, but Pete would have none of it. Ironic that Pete needed the money and wouldn’t take it, and Drew had the money and wanted to give it.

      He got to his feet and stiffly descended the ladder into the living area, swallowing a groan of pain as he stepped off the last rung. The silence pressed in on him, but he didn’t start the generator. His gaze drifted over to the photo of him and Lissa. He’d caught Faith studying the photo the night before, as if she were surprised that a woman might get that close to him.

      Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been a name on a slip of paper that his sister had pressed upon him. An unwanted meeting. Now she was his rescuer. Yes, he might have gotten to the cabin under his own steam, but he also might have passed out in the road, and then died of exposure during the rainy night.

      Once upon a time, dying hadn’t seemed like a bad option, but he’d always been clear on the fact that it wasn’t an option for him. He was a survivor. His methodology might suck. He might not have the greatest existence, but he was carving something out for himself and Maddie. After all he’d been through, it would have sucked to die in a mud puddle.

      He owed the woman.

      He needed to thank her...even though he had the very strong feeling that she didn’t want to be thanked.

      Didn’t want any contact with him at all.

       CHAPTER THREE

      FAITH DREADED GOING to work the day after she’d helped Drew Miller back to his cabin. She had to say something to Debra when the other woman returned from her morning meeting in Helena. But what would she say?

      Hey, did you hear that your brother had a wreck on the mountain? No? Well, let me fill you in.

      It was a damned-if-she-did, damned-if-she-didn’t kind of situation. If he’d told his sister, fine. But she truly doubted he was going to do that, which left it up to her to say something. Word of the accident would surely get out in the small community. Even if the paramedics or deputy didn’t say anything, a wrecker would certainly be called to haul the vehicle back up onto the road.

      What was the worst that could happen if she kept her mouth shut?

      Once Debra found out about Drew’s accident, Faith would be in a very awkward spot. The woman had accepted the fact that Drew wasn’t going to be partaking in equine therapy, but she’d also said in a wistful way that she wished Faith had “tried harder” to talk him into it.

      Now she was stuck in the middle of a situation not of her making. All because she’d agreed to take a meeting with the guy. If she hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have known who she was when she’d shown up to rescue him. She wouldn’t have known who he was. If they figured it out later, it would have been one of those odd coincidences that they could have marveled over.

      But they did know each other. Debra had wanted her to work with Drew so she could get the scoop on how he was doing from Faith at work. She hadn’t said that last part, but Faith had understood that was part of the deal. Debra was worried about her brother. And now that she’d met the man, Faith believed that Debra had cause. He’d come off as being in control, comfortable in his surroundings at the café. But the isolation in which he lived, his insistence on no medical treatment, the photo of him in younger, happier days... The man who’d smiled out of that photograph was not the guy she’d dealt with.

      And he had a daughter who didn’t live with him.

      Yes, Debra had reason to be concerned. And now that he’d wrecked his Jeep, she had more reason. Although Faith was certain that Drew was fine. She’d left him in good hands before escaping down the mountain.

      Debra came breezing in from her trip to Helena as Faith left the main office after dropping off some files.

      “Uh... Debra...?”

      Debra turned, her expression falsely bright. “Yes?”

      “Do you have a moment?”

      “Only a few. I have to report to the dean.”

      Faith smiled apologetically and shook her head. “We can talk later.”

      She was steaming as she headed to the basement archives an hour later without seeing Debra again. How dare this guy put her in a position like this? The thing to do was to wait until Debra returned to the office instead of heading to her car at quitting time, sit Debra down and tell her what had happened. Then Debra could be outraged or hurt or whatever, but Faith would be out of it.

      Yes.

      After unearthing a handful of ancient transcripts that had yet to be digitized, she marched back up the stairs to the administrative offices, paused to take a deep breath, then walked into the registrar’s office, only to find Debra’s inner-office door closed and dark.

      Damn and double damn.

      Back to her truck she went. After tossing her tote bag onto the passenger seat, Faith sat at the wheel for a long moment. Should she call?

      She could only imagine giving Debra the news over the phone when she hadn’t given it to her in person.

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