Page 15 of Falling for the Beast

After lunch, she walked down the road to check on her Rabbit. It was further than she’d thought, and the wind whipped through the sweatshirt, making her wish she’d also borrowed his coat. As she approached, she could see the back end of her car sticking up from the ditch. The driver’s side door was gone, and she stared at the gaping hole. How had…? She searched and found the door several yards from the crash site. It appeared as if he’d ripped it off with his bare hands and tossed it into the woods. The thought startled her and sent a new wave of apprehension through her.

Several feet from her car she found his motorcycle, discarded. She climbed into the car to retrieve her purse and found her car keys dangling from the ignition. An odd sensation filled her as she looked at the crumpled front end and the spider-like webs that cracked the windshield.

She touched the cloth seat and a sense of loss enveloped her. Why was she blinking back tears? It was just a car. She shouldn’t feel so emotional over a car, yet she couldn’t help it. Bunny was gone.

She removed the keys and put them in her purse along with her other personal belongings. She tried to walk the motorcycle up the hill, but it was too heavy for her, so she left it. She didn’t know how to ride a motorcycle, nor did she want to try.

When she got back, she found Thaddeus awake again. He didn’t move, but his gaze followed her as she entered the house.

“Well, poor Bunny is toast,” she said, hoping to get some conversation out of him.

A quizzical look crossed his face. “Bunny?”

“My car.” She blew out a breath. “She’s a goner.”

“You named your Rabbit Bunny?”

“Seemed appropriate.” She sat down beside him, cross-legged.

A single chuckle escaped him, and he closed his eyes. “Nice shirt.”

She grinned. “Thanks. Thought it looked good on me.”

“It does,” he said without opening his eyes.

She waited for him to say something else. The seconds ticked on, and he finally looked back up at her. “You have questions.”

“Yes.” She picked at a loose strand of thread at the edge of the rug. How could she start?

“I can’t answer them,” he said, matter-of-factly.

Her mouth fell open. “That is so not fair. You can’t possibly expect me to—” She stopped when she saw him silently laughing. “Oh, not funny. You don’t know how bad I want to pull that pillow out from under your head and smack you with it.”

He sobered. “Please don’t.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Okay. I won’t.”

After a moment, he said, “All right, ask them.”

Staring down at the rug, she wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe she should start with a simple one. “How did you know I had the accident?”

“I heard it,” he said softly.

She wasn’t expecting that answer. “You have superhuman hearing?”

He frowned. “More like an animal.” He peered up at her, assessing her reaction.

She smoothed out her features, careful not to seem like it mattered to her. “I see. And how did I get in here?”

“I carried you.”

She had figured that’s what had happened, and she nodded. “And how…?” She pointed to her head, and then to his.

He looked away. “That’s more complicated.”

Of course it was. What did she expect? She tentatively reached out and picked up his hand, the one with the diagonal scar. He didn’t pull it away. “You got this scar from healing someone?”

He was silent for a moment. “Yes.”

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