Chapter 7

Emilia

I wake up disoriented, not sure where I'm at because the last thing I remember is falling into the creek and hitting my head. "Hello?" I rasp out, my throat dry and somewhat sore for some reason. "Is… is anybody there?"

"Oh, honey, thank God you're finally awake!" My mom's voice is shaky, and I know from past experience, she's crying.

"Mom? What happened?" I ask. "God, my throat feels so raw."

"Let me get you some water," she replies, her voice now closer. "Emilia, I was so worried. Here," she says, her hand reaching out to grasp mine and bring it up to the cup she's holding. "Take slow sips, then I'll let the nurse know you're awake."

I nod while I guzzle the soothing water down, my throat instantly feeling better. Once I'm done, I sit back a little to wait on the nurse, since I hear my mom telling someone that I'm awake. I take stock of my injuries and realize that pretty much every part of my body hurts in one way or another.

"What do you remember, Emi?" Mom questions as the nurse rushes in and starts checking my vitals.

"Not much," I hoarsely murmur. "I was out with Paul, we were hiking through the forest for some reason, and he got angry with me. I smelled gasoline, then he pushed me down and ran. I got turned around and followed the sound of some cats meowing, but then I fell down the embankment, landed in the creek, and hit my head. That's the last thing I remember, Mom."

I may not be able to see, but I definitely feel the palpable tension that's now radiating throughout the entirety of the room. "Emi, I don't know how to tell you this, but the forest's on fire by the sawmill," Mom finally says.

"What?" I whisper, shock now coursing through me. "How bad is it, Mom?"

"It's bad, honey. They've evacuated a ten-mile radius around it and keep pushing it back even further," she replies. "The crews he uses to cut down the trees have their machinery out there trying to put up fire lines, but a lot of trees have been lost already."

I can feel the tears rolling down my face. "Mom, I think you need to let the police know I might have information on the perpetrator," I finally rasp out.

"I'll call them, honey." She pats my hand, consoling me, then I feel the weight of her body move away from me.

A sudden thought comes to me, and I ask, "How did I end up here?"

I hear the snap of fingers before my mom confesses, "Oh, a nice young man found you. Said he was looking for some children that got away from his friends and came across you. I need to let him know you're awake, he was very concerned."

As I wait for someone to show up, the doctor comes in and goes over my list of injuries, which are extensive but not too horrific, considering I was at the scene of where the wildfire started. I lay there stunned until Mom comes back in and says, "Emilia, I have Detective Ashton here to speak with you."

I turn toward her voice and smile. "Hello. If she didn't tell you, I'm blind."

A deep chuckle resonates through the room, and I hear heavy footsteps move closer to my bed. Warm fingers grasp my hand, and a deep male voice says, "Hello, Emilia. I'm John Ashton, the detective assigned to investigate how the wildfire started. I understand you might have some information that could help me with that."

Tilting my head toward his voice, I say, "Maybe? The man I was dating took me out on a hike, um, what's today?"

"Monday, sweetie," Mom replies.

"Okay, so we went out on a hike yesterday, only it wasn't on one of the normal trails we typically use, as far as I could tell. There was a lot of overgrowth, and I had a hard time keeping up with him. Anyhow, I asked him to slow down because I couldn't keep up with his long strides and he said a few unsavory things about Mr. Stephens, then I asked him why I smelled gas. He said some cruel things to me, pushed me down and left. I felt the heat from the fire but got disoriented when he pushed me down. However, I thought I heard some cats mewling, so I followed their sounds and ended up falling down the embankment into the creek, where I hit my head on a rock or something. Then I woke up here. Did he do this?" I question once I spill my guts.

"It appears so, Emilia," Detective Ashton replies. "What's his name?"

"Paul. Paul Brewster," I say. "Mom, I feel like such an idiot. I should've known he wasn't really interested in me. Who in their right mind would be?" Self-loathing and condemnation swamp me as a lone tear streaks its way down my cheek.

Another deep voice says, "Anyone with a lick of sense would."

"Who are you?" I question, my head swiveling until I'm ‘looking' at the door, facing the stranger.

"Oh, Emi, that's the man who found you and saved you!" Mom exclaims. "His name is Zane, he's one of the sawmill's lumberjacks."

I know my face is probably beet red because I can feel the heat as it travels upward. Holding out my hand and hoping he understands, I say, "Thank you for saving me. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't found me, Zane."

A solid, calloused hand grips mine and warmth seeps into my soul. "You're welcome, Emilia," he says. I hear a chair being moved as it scraps along the linoleum flooring, even as my hand remains in his, then his voice comes closer, as though he is next to me.

"And you said he mentioned Stephens?" Detective Ashton asks, circling back to our unfinished conversation.

My nose wrinkles because I still don't understand what Paul meant. "Yes," I slowly reply. "He said what he was doing would send a message to Stephens. I don't know what he means though," I admit.

"We'll find out. Did he work around here?" Detective Ashton queries.

"I don't think so. He had told me that he was here because he was planning to open his own sawmill and he wanted to learn from the best in the country," I reply. Zane squeezes my fingers then I feel him lace our fingers together.

A zing of awareness flows through me. It shocks me, because he's a mere stranger, but I don't pull away since I'm enjoying the soothing comfort he's bringing me. Something about him feels right for some reason. I don't understand it because I didn't especially like it when Paul would hold my hand. As a matter of fact, there were times when his touch made me twitchy. I felt as though I was trapped or something, yet I don't have that same sensation when Zane does it. Guess it's something for me and Bonita to ponder when I talk to her again.

"And how long were you two dating?" The detective continues his line of questioning.

I take a moment to think back, I want to be accurate in my answers in case it's prudent toward finding out what Paul's been devising. "Um, about six months or so, give or take," I say. "We usually went to dinner once or twice a week, then out for a hike on the weekend, until recently. That's when I started working six days, so I only had Sundays available. I was… I was actually going to tell him I didn't want to see him any longer," I admit. "Something felt off, and after we had a horrible argument last weekend, I decided it was better for me if I broke it off."

Zane's other hand engulfs our entwined fingers and I feel as though he's sending me soothing vibes or something. I've never felt anything like it before and wonder just how hard I hit my head when I took a tumble down that hillside. Zane feels familiar, comfortable, as though I've known him my entire life, but I know I've never met him before today.

In a serious tone, Detective Ashton probes, "And what was your argument about?"

My head drops as embarrassment engulfs me… once again. "I'd rather not say," I murmur. "It… it's personal."

"Okay, we'll leave that for now, Emilia, but if I find I need that information later down the road for my investigation, I'll ask again," Detective Ashton replies, ruffling my feathers.

Funnily enough, I could swear I heard a rumbling growl coming from Zane's direction, but that's not possible for a human to do that, is it?

"Zane, you're sure you don't mind staying with her?" my mom asks, much to my shock and surprise.

The fact that my helicopter mom is willing to leave me, alone, in the hospital, let alone with a strange man, since she just met Zane the day before, has my head spinning. I swear if it wasn't connected to my neck, it would fly off and smash into the wall or something.

"Not at all, Mrs. Andrews. Go get some rest, I'll entertain Emi with stories of my work crew," Zane replies.

Mom giggles… she giggles, and I smell her perfume as she leans down and kisses my forehead. Who is this woman? Have I actually died or am I in an alternative universe of some sort?

"Honey, I'll go by your house and get some clothes and stuff gathered for you and pack them in an overnight bag since the doctor thinks you'll be able to go home tomorrow, okay?" she asks.

"That's fine, Mom. I haven't heard from Bonita, do you know where she's at?"

I'm baffled since I thought my best friend would be here as soon as the hospital doors opened, but so far, she's been a no-show.

"Yes, she's helping down at the civic center, sweetie. She tried to call you, but it goes straight to voicemail. They called her and asked her to come help them with those who have minor injuries since the hospital is full of those who were hurt worse." My mom's words remind me that my phone was damaged during my tussle with the tree and ground. Then the second part of her sentence has me gasping for oxygen. Innocents being injured due to one's revenge and dastardly deeds has me feeling a deep sense of sorrow.

"How many people were hurt during the fire?" I ask.

"At least two dozen," Zane replies, "including several firefighters. Right now, crews from the sawmill are digging a fire line, while the local air firefighters are lending a hand to those on the ground by pulling water from the lake."

"How many acres have been lost so far?" I murmur, my heart going out to Mr. Stephens.

"Roughly two hundred," he says. "We've got calls in to our suppliers for the trees we use to replant, so as soon as we're allowed back into the areas, we can prepare the earth and get them replanted. Still going to be a huge loss, but already I've heard of other, smaller companies who will be sending their logs to Stephens for deplaning. He's well-known and highly regarded in the industry, and the logging community is showing their support via donations. Several other logging companies are sending crews to help us with the replanting as well."

"Honey, I'll see you tomorrow. Zane, watch over my girl," Mom says, interrupting me before I can ask another question.

"With my life," he promises, his grizzly vow making me swoon as goosebumps erupt on my flesh.

There's that growl again. It's sexy and sets off an array of sparks that ignite inside of me that I don't really know what to do with right now.

I'm so freaking awkward when it comes to relationships. Apparently, anything having to do with the male gender has me second guessing myself and my intuitions. Obviously so since I failed so spectacularly with Paul.

"You didn't fail. He wasn't the right one for you," Zane says.

"How did you? Wait, did I say that out loud?" I question.

"Yes, you did," he replies, chuckling in amusement. "Plus, your face is very expressive, so even if you hadn't said it, I probably would've figured it out."

"So what kind of voodoo magic do you have that got my mom, who's a helicopter mom extraordinaire, to willingly leave?"

He laughs out loud at that, and I marvel at how rich sounding the timbre of his voice is, especially when he replies, "Voodoo magic? Not heard that one before. But I think it's because she knows I work for the same company as you do, I found you and got you to safety, and I'll protect you with my life."

"But why? I don't understand," I whisper, emotion overcoming me.

No one has ever said anything like that to me. I know my parents, as well as my aunt and uncle would do anything in their power for me, but to hear a complete stranger vow that he'd protect me with his own life? I've only ever heard that in one of my books.