Page 182 of Wild Horses on the Mountain

“Is that fine, Detective Wyatt?” she asked the investigator.

“Kimberly. And yes.” She nodded and pulled the door mostly closed behind her and took the empty chair beside the bed. Jodie’s heart began to pound harder. Mac squeezed her hand.

Kimberly opened a notebook and clicked her pen. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

Jodie drew a careful breath. “Harold North attacked me.”

Two days later, Jodie stood in the middle of her living room, taking everything in.

The same throw blanket lay crooked across the back of the couch. Her shoes were still lined up beside the door. A dust bunny had grown in the corner of the living room since she’d left for the roundup because apparently nearly getting murdered did not summon magical housekeeping fairies.

And the room was also filled with vases full of flowers, balloons, stuffed dogs, and get-well-soon cards. At Mac’s request, Arden had come over to open the windows before he brought Jodie home. Fresh air moved through the house, carrying the dry scent of grass and sun-warmed pine instead of smoke. Beneath the flowers and fresh air, she could smell coffee and whatever Mac had put into the slow cooker the minute they’d gotten home from the hospital.

I’m safe at home with the man I love. With the man who rescued me. I will never, ever take that for granted.

Jodie closed her eyes. The cellar flashed behind them. Darkness. Smoke slipping through the cracks. The door refusing to move. Horror at knowing Goblin was out there somewhere, and she hadn’t been able to save him.

Her eyelids flew open. She staggered.

Mac’s hands landed on her arms, steadying her. He’d barely let her out of arm’s reach since the hospital discharged her.

Jodie understood why. She did. She had seen his face when the doctor explained concussion precautions. She’d felt his hand closed around hers when they discussed smoke inhalation, hydration, headaches, dizziness, and the list of symptoms that meant he was supposed to take her straight back to the emergency room.

She also knew Mac.

He would happily sit beside her and count every breath she took until Christmas.

“I think I need to sit down, though.”

“That I can help with.” He came and put his arm around her and led her to the couch. She lowered herself carefully, waiting for the familiar swoop of dizziness. It came, but only lightly this time. Mac noticed anyway. Of course he did.

“Don’t.”

His eyebrows rose.

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?” he asked.