Page 6 of Protected By the Mountain Man

“Chris.” I nodded, my gaze flicking between him and Kat. What was there to say right now? How did you ease a pain like this? Hell if I knew. “What’s the verdict?”

“Not good,” Chris said. “That poor family…I swear, they’ve got to be cursed. First the parents, then Ben’s wife…now Ben? Jesus.”

The doctor chose that moment to step out, a small woman with an unreadable expression on her face. Kat's head whipped around, her eyes latching onto the doctor like a lifeline. For just a second, there was this flicker of hope in her gaze, bright and desperate. Like she thought sheer willpower could rewrite reality.

I think we all knew that wasn’t the case.

“Miss Martin,” the doctor started. The words that followed were clinical but delivered with a weight that made my chest tight. “I'm so very sorry…”

Kat shook her head, already in denial as she barked out an incredulous laugh. “No—no, don’t even say it?—”

“I’m sorry, Miss Martin, but your brother’s wounds were too severe,” the doctor went on, her voice gentle. “We lost him.”

Time stood still, Kat just staring.

Then her face crumbled, her chin wobbling as she fought to keep herself from falling apart right there. Her hand rose to her mouth, a feeble attempt to stifle the sob that never came.

“Thank you,” she whispered, though what she was thanking the doctor for, I couldn't fathom. Maybe for the finality, the closure. Or maybe it was just something people said when they didn't know what else to do.

Kat shook her head, once, sharply, as if she could deny the truth away. But the world doesn't work like that, and death doesn't heed your denials.

“Kat…” I stepped forward without thinking, but she didn't need me crowding her space.

Not now.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I whipped my head around to see Kat’s cousin, Owen. He was lanky and lean, his face flushed. “Stay the hell away from us,” he snarled, then stepped past me to Kat’s side.

It should've been me, I thought. But then again, why? Because I felt guilty? Because I wanted to be her savior?

“Is he…” Owen was saying. Kat was nodding, sobbing now, crumpling.

And I couldn’t do a damn thing.

I stood there, useless as hell, while Kat Martin faced the worst news of her life. And I hated that the only thing I could offer was the same silent presence I'd given since I’d stumbled upon her and Ben out there on the road.

I turned around, suddenly desperate to get out of there, only to see a girl that looked just like Ben standing in the waiting room. She looked…hell, I didn’t know—like she’d seen too much already. Her eyes darted toward me, toward Ben’s blood on my shirt, and her expression tightened.

“My dad’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked, her voice timid.

I couldn’t answer; instead, I brushed past her, practically racing back to my car.

I didn’t belong here…and I wasn’t entitled to mourn Ben Martin.

THREE

Kat

One moment someone’s here…then they’re gone.

The body was cremated. Arrangements were made. We held the funeral at First Baptist, and the neighbors rallied to plan a wake.

Livy and I moved around the house like ghosts, Bandit at our heels. I didn’t know how to help her. I needed…I needed something. Someone.

The air inside the ranch house was thick with grief and the scent of home-cooked meals brought over by well-meaning neighbors. I wove through clusters of folks in black, nodding at condolences I hardly heard. My gaze kept sliding to the door, hunting for a face I had no right to seek—Gabriel Mitchell's.

What was I expecting? For him to swoop in, all rough edges and helping hands, like he did as Ben bled out on the road? Ridiculous.

“Kat, you need any help with those?” Betty Thompson gestured to the plates piled high in my arms.

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