Page 39 of Mountain Hero

Now I just hug Winter and stroke her hair as I say with absolute certainty, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

CHAPTER 11

WINTER

It’s hard not to blame myself for everything.

Rationally, I know it’s not true. If this was happening to Violet, or any other woman, I’d be adamantly insisting it’s not their fault.

I would kindly but firmly explain why it’s the man to blame, and not them. I’d remind them that hindsight is twenty-twenty and there was no way to know the guy they thought was normal in the beginning would turn out to be an abusive criminal.

I’d tell them that just because they missed a red flag didn’t mean they deserved to be hurt.

And I know I’m right.

It’s just really hard to make myself believe it.

When I think about what my aunt is going through—forced to stay in an unfamiliar place, knowing the house she’s lived in for over twenty years is in shambles and she can’t even go there to fix things—how can I not feel guilty?

As I watch Enzo’s friends give up their time to play bodyguard, I feel guilty. Even though they’re so kind about it, I can’t help wondering if deep down, they resent me for it.

And Enzo. He’s done so much for me. Upgrading the security at his house, paying Will extra to work extra hours at the store, missing sleep each time he sits with me after one of my nightmares…

It’s not that I don’t believe him when he says he wants to do it. I just wish…

My phone pings with a text.

Are you still there?

Crap. How long has Violet been waiting for me to reply while I’ve been wallowing in my silent self-flagellation?

I glance at her last message—sent five minutes ago, not too terrible—and quickly type out a reply.

Yes. Sorry. Just got distracted for a second.

Three dots blink for a second.

Are you sure you’re doing okay? I know you SAY you are. But I’m worried.

I push myself up from the couch and head over to the window, looking out at the expanse of freshly-cut grass and the thick brush of trees beyond. The sky is a bright wash of blue above the treeline, the morning sun already drying the condensation from the night before.

It’s a perfect summer day, the kind that makes me ache to be outside for it—swimming or walking through the park or lounging on the patio with a new book to read.

Or spending it with Enzo. Doing any of those things with him would be even better.

Bringing my attention back to Violet, who knows me too well to buy my claims of being fine, I send her a more truthful reply.

I’m sort of okay. Most of the time.

Her response comes right away.

What do you mean?

Just as I’m about to answer, Knox comes in from outside. He lifts his chin and gives me a small smile. “Just finished a quick check of the perimeter. I’m going to make some coffee. Do you want some?”

“That’s okay.” I already had coffee with Enzo before he left for the store. It’s one of my favorite times of the day, which is why I always set an alarm so I can be up before he leaves. I love debating which coffee variety to choose next, making a little game of it, acting like we’re coffee connoisseurs and saying things like you can really taste the chicory in this one or this one has slight notes of barrel-aged whiskey.

I have no idea what I’m saying, and I’m pretty sure Enzo doesn’t either. But I don’t care. It’s silly and fun and sometimes we hold hands and now he always gives me a hug before he leaves.

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