Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

I finally manage to find the correct driveway on only my third pass. Considering it's dusk, I've only ever been here as part of a group, and have never been the one driving, I'll call it a success.

The gravel crunches under my tires as I slowly make my way up the meandering driveway. The family history passed down about when the cabin was built says that the patriarch of the Whitlock family couldn't see the sense of knocking down perfectly good trees for a straight driveway, so they just went around them. With the number of trees on this lot, I can't see how that thought process makes much sense. Maybe there weren't quite as many back then. The grounds are littered with the beginning of fall's leaves. Most still remain on the trees, though their usual green has changed to sunny yellows, brilliant oranges, and deep reds.

I pull up in the driveway so that the hatchback of my compact SUV meets the walkway to the front door. There's just me this time, so I don't have to worry about blocking anyone else's access. I gather my purse from the passenger seat, my phone from the cup holder, and collect my suitcase and laptop bag from the back, then make my way up to the front porch. I'm not surprised to find beautifully arranged mums overflowing from the ribbon-wrapped urns by the front door. Even though no one in the family is scheduled for a visit to the cabin for at least the next month and my trip here was last-minute, my best friend, Alice, has found a way to get things prettied up for my visit. I told her it wasn't necessary, but she obviously went ahead with her plans anyway.

The front door key is hanging from a hook hidden behind a carved wooden "Welcome" sign, right where it's been kept since Alice's husband's great grandfather first placed it there. I let myself in and flip the switch, flooding the open space with light. I lock the door behind me and make my way over to the kitchen, where a large floral arrangement in various rich fall colours stands with a piece of cardstock propped in front of it.

Alice made sure I came by and stocked up all your favorites while I was in the area. (Not really. I was visiting a friend who lives 40 minutes away – good thing we love you!) You know where the nearest store is for anything else you might like to have on hand. Jasper's scrawling handwriting is unmistakable.

I roll my eyes in response. Sure enough, there are two bottles of cheap, sweet white wine and a box of chocolate-covered caramel nut clusters on the counter behind the flowers. Setting my belongings beside the island and my sweater on one of the barstools, I walk over and open the fridge to see that there's milk, butter, eggs, bacon, bread, English muffins, and a box of lemon tarts. There's also another piece of cardstock with a big black arrow pointing to the freezer. I open the freezer door and see that there are at least a dozen frozen microwave meals stocked.

I head over to grab my phone and make sure I've got a signal before I text Alice.

Thanks for the supplies. I'll hit town when I need refills. ;p

Her response arrives almost immediately. No problem! Glad you made it safely before it got too dark. It can be a bitch to find with no street lights! Enjoy! Call me or Jazz if you need to.

I'm good for now. Love ya! I text back, then stuff my phone in my pocket.

I pull my suitcase behind me down the hall and debate on which room I want to stay in. The guest room I usually stay in is lovely, but it holds memories that I'd rather not reflect on right now. I laugh as I see yet another note, this one taped to the door. "Not here." I continue on down the hall and enter the master bedroom. I put my suitcase beside the dresser; my purse and laptop bag I lay on the stuffed armchair in the corner. I love the view from this room. There's a small walkway between the sliding glass doors and the pond. At this time of day, the setting sun spills rose-golden light across the surface, which reflects against the windows. I close my eyes and let the last rays of today's sun warm me.

It doesn't take very long before the sun has dropped completely below the tree line, leaving the bedroom fairly dark. I flip on the bedside lamp and turn on some music on my phone after I've plugged it in to charge. Humming and singing to myself, I unpack my meager supplies. Long sweaters with leggings or track pants and t-shirts covered with hoodies are my go-to outfits for this mini vacation. Flannel and polar fleece pajamas, fluffy slippers, comfort food, and lots of cheap wine will help keep me cozy.

I still can't believe how quickly my life fell to pieces. I went from having an attentive, handsome younger boyfriend and a good job with a solid company to being unemployed and alone within a couple of days.

My big-time boss made some shady business deals that fell through. Even though I knew nothing about them and wasn't involved in any way, after the company found out, they let him go and decided his position would be absorbed by his superiors, making my executive assistant job redundant. I was let go with a generous severance package on Tuesday afternoon.

When I got home that night and told my supposedly supportive boyfriend, he comforted me and told me it was nothing to worry about. I'd find a new job in no time. Wednesday morning, I woke up to an e-mailed note in which he told me he was moving on because he'd met a woman with a connection at another company in the same business I'd been in, and she was going to introduce him to her bosses.

What an asshole. I hadn't even noticed that he was always trying to ingratiate himself to my bosses until I sat back, stunned, and thought back on our relationship. He rarely planned anything for just the two of us. There had always been some kind of networking angle. When we were at company events for my employer, he spent all his time talking and laughing with my bosses. What a blind idiot I had been. He wasn't bad to me, not at all. However, he'd always seemed kind of distant. Now, I knew why a hot younger man wanted to date me. He wasn't invested in me personally, just what I could do for him professionally.

Wednesday night, I called Alice and told her what had happened. By Thursday morning, she'd had me pack a bag, found a friend to feed my cat, and made arrangements for me to have a country get-away far from all of my problems.

I'm pretty sure running away from my problems isn't going to solve anything, but a short break from all of the stress is certainly welcome. After a quick dinner consisting of two of the microwave pasta dinners (because I have no idea who they think actually eats portions that small) and a glass of wine, I settle on the couch under a fluffy throw blanket with my tea and a lemon tart. I read on my tablet for a little while, losing myself to the imaginary world. Once my eyes start to become heavy, I clean up after myself and head to bed. All in all, an ideal Friday night.

Saturday morning, I step out onto the back deck in my fleece pajamas with my coffee to unseasonably warm temperatures. It's the perfect day to get outside, and I decide that's exactly what I'll do. After a quickly-thrown-together breakfast sandwich of bacon and egg on an English muffin, I dress comfortably but quickly realize that none of the shoes I've brought along are ideal for a walk out in the woods surrounding the house. I know some of the areas along the path that circles the property can get pretty wet and muddy in the spring and fall. I rummage around in the closets and find a pair of rain boots that fit a little loosely but should serve for a casual walk.

As I walk and enjoy the warm air, I make a mental list of prospective employers. I think about what aspects of my job I really enjoyed and those I really didn't like. I think about other careers my skills might be able to transition into and who I might know who could be a contact or refer me to a contact in that field. I let my mind wander and consider even the most outlandish career options. Why not? Since my future earning capabilities are in limbo, I might as well consider any and all areas. I enter notes into my phone about people to call and things to look up periodically.

I admit my mistake about halfway around the path. The boots keep slipping against my heel, pulling down my socks and rubbing against my heel. I've now got a good-sized blister on my left heel and a raw spot on my right. I find a downed tree trunk and sit on it for a little while to give my poor feet a break. The music from my ear buds feels out of place now that I'm sitting still and observing my surroundings instead of just walking through them, so I pluck them out and tuck them into my pocket with my phone.

The trees are densely packed in some areas and sparse in others. The tall, spindly pine trees are practically bare until they break the thickest part of the canopy, and then their branches spread, and they reach for the sky. There are many small pine trees lower to the ground, struggling to grow in the spotty sunlight. The trees that aren't evergreens are already changing colour; some have already lost a great deal of their leaves. I know there are deer and other wildlife in the area, and I probably shouldn't have been wearing my headphones in the first place so that I could keep alert for coyotes, cougars, and other predatory animals. The smell of dirt and decomposing leaves is oddly relaxing. Looking around, I can make out some deer footprints. There are several pairs of the two long depressions in the dirt revealed where a couple of trees have toppled over and pulled up their roots.

The tracks get me to thinking about the animals preparing for fall. I see the odd bird fly by overhead and can hear a couple of them hopping about in the leaves of the canopy and chattering at each other. I see a squirrel in the distance digging amongst the leaf litter and assume it's searching for food to store away. I wonder if the predators are out and about, looking to fatten themselves up for winter hibernation. I suddenly realize that coming out for a hike on my own was probably not the best idea. Usually, we come out here as a group. If I did run into a hungry coyote or cougar, I wouldn't have the first idea about what I should do.

I'm motivated to get moving and head back to the cabin. The walk takes much longer than it should because I need to move slower to reduce the rubbing on my heels. In a particularly wet and swampy area, a couple of small trees have fallen across the path, and I have to scramble over those as well.

By the time I make it back to the cabin, it's well into late afternoon, and my feet are swollen and sore. I kick off the boots as soon as I clear the tree line and am walking on grass again, carrying the boots the rest of the way. The cool grass feels like heaven on my beat-up feet, except for when a stray blade brushes against the raw areas.

I drop the boots in the front entryway and beeline for the bedroom to run a bath. I need to soak my feet for about a month. I debate adding bath oil, then decide against it since it will probably just burn. While the tub is filling, I wrap my hair up in a bun and head back to the kitchen for a drink. I'm happy to find some cans of lemonade in the pantry. I bring one with me and grab my bottle of pain relievers on my way back into the bathroom, where I undress and then inspect the damage. It's about as bad as it can get. Both heels now have large, open sores and will need some antibiotic ointment and bandages.

Once I'm settled in the water, I pop the can and down a couple of pills. I slide down the angled end of the tub so that my chin barely clears the water and close my eyes, allowing the warm water to relax my muscles. My phone startles me as it begins to ring from the counter where I left it. I debate whether I want to get up and grab it but decide I'll let it go to voicemail and call back later. A few moments after the ringing ceases, my phone alerts that I have a message.

The water has cooled substantially by the time I drag myself out of the tub, towel off, and pull on some tights and a long sweater with a cozy cowl neck. After doctoring up my heels, I leave my feet bare so nothing rubs on them and head to the kitchen for something to eat. I decide to have breakfast for dinner and make myself a couple of slices of French toast. Feeling sorry for myself, I finish off the bottle of wine while reading some more of the novel on my tablet. As usual, the alcohol hits me fairly quickly, and I feel pleasantly fuzzy. I decide to indulge myself and open the second bottle since I have nowhere to go and no one to impress. After the second glass, I decide to grab a couple of the lemon tarts for a treat. Seeing the empty first bottle on the counter, I realize that the recycling bins are probably stored away in the shed at the side of the cabin. I decide to run out and grab one, leaving my tea and treats on the counter.

I don't want to put shoes on, so I slip on a pair of Jasper's beat-up flip-flops from the closet and a fleece jacket I find hanging there and head outside. As soon as I take the first step down the stairs, I lose my balance and pitch forward. I have a split second to try to decide how I want to land because I'm suddenly going headfirst fast toward the concrete pad at the bottom of the stairs. I throw my hands up in front of my face to ward off the impact. My hands hit the ground and slide; then my body hurtles forward, and I turn my face to try to avoid a direct impact. The concrete scrapes against my face, and then my legs impact the bottom steps.

I lie still for a moment, mentally inspecting myself. I don't want to move right away, afraid of what kind of pain will come. I roll to the side first, happy that nothing immediately hurts. I move my legs. They're sore, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have some good bruises on my shins. Using my left hand, I push myself up to a sitting position. My left palm stings as I push down on it, so once I'm sitting upright, I move it in front of myself and turn it palm up. There are pretty deep scrapes across the heel of my hand. As soon as I try to move my right arm so that I can see my right palm, I know something is wrong. Pain shoots through my wrist and up my arm.

From inside the house, I hear my phone begin to ring from where I left it on the coffee table. As I tip my head back to groan, I feel something drip down from my nose and down my neck. My face is throbbing, and my teeth ache. I run my tongue across my teeth. Thankfully, none are missing, and I don't feel any cracks or chips.

Cradling my right arm against my body, I slowly get to my feet. I feel a little shaky, but I'm not sure if that's from the fall or the wine. The taste of blood in my mouth makes me want to spit, so I lean to the side and do so. The phone stops ringing as I kick off the one flip-flop that didn't fall off and make my way carefully back into the house. I grab a clean dish towel from the kitchen drawer and wipe it carefully over my face. When I pull it away, it's covered in smears of blood and dirt. I move over to the couch and grab my phone, turn the camera on, and flip the camera display so that I can see myself. My face is scraped, and I'm bleeding from my nose and lip. The flash goes off as I fumble the phone, accidentally taking a picture. I drop the phone to the seat cushion and carefully struggle out of the fleece jacket to check out my arm.

My right wrist is very stiff, and once it's freed from the sleeve, I can see a swollen lump over my wrist starting about an inch from my thumb for about two inches. I slowly open and close my hand. Everything seems to be in working order. I grab a flexible ice pack from the freezer and place it over my wrist as I try to decide what to do. I don't know where the nearest emergency room is, and I'm not sure if driving one-handed is the best idea, even if I hadn't been drinking. I guess I'm going to have to call 911 for an extremely embarrassing ambulance ride.

Before that, I decide I should call Alice and let her know what's happened. I go back over, retrieve my phone, and slump into the corner of the couch. Of course, I have two missed calls from Alice, so I press her name to initiate the call.

"Bella! Jeez! Where have you been? I've been calling you all day."

"Hi, Al. I went for a walk earlier, and you know there's no cell service out there. I missed a call when I was in the bath and another a few minutes ago when I went outside," I respond. I really don't want to admit to what I've done, but it's a small town, and I know Jasper has friends in the area. If I go to the hospital, they're bound to hear about it.

"Okay, that makes sense. I was just a little worried about you. It's not like you to not respond for such a long time. Isn't it gorgeous out back at this time of year? I just love how pretty everything looks when the leaves start to change. Reminds me of jumping in the leaves and playing in the mud as a kid."

While she continues talking, I decide to send her a picture and let it speak for itself. I cringe at how bad I look. I caption it, "So this just happened." then hit send.

"So, don't freak out, but I just sent you something."

"Oh, okay." There's a pause as she checks her phone, then, "What the hell, Bella! Are you okay? Shit, hold on. I'm coming. I can be there in just over an hour." I can hear her banging around her apartment over the phone.

"No, Alice. I'm fine. Just had a little fall. It looks a lot worse than it is."

"Shit, shit, shit. Okay, just sit back. Put some ice and a soft cloth on your cheek and lip. No, wait! Lean forward and pinch your nose to stop the bleeding. Where did I put my keys? Jasper! Where are my keys?" she yells, and I can hear Jasper's voice but can't make out his response.

"ALICE! No. Do not drive all the way out here. I'm just going to call an ambulance and get myself checked out. It's no big deal."

"Bella! Your face! I mean, it looks bad. I can be there soon. No, I can call Rose. She's not too far. I can get…"

I can hear shuffling, then muffled conversation between her and Jasper as though she's covered the speaker on the phone.

"Hi, honey." Jasper's calm voice is soothing compared to Alice's frenetic speech. "Are you dizzy? Did you hit your head hard?"

"No. I more or less landed on my hands, and then my face slid across the landing. It stings, and I've got some cuts and scrapes, but it's really not all that bad. I really could drive myself except that I had a few glasses of wine." I sigh.

"Okay. You stay put. A friend of mine isn't too far away from you right now, so I'm going to get him to come get you. I know there was a bad accident on the highway that has the area paramedics all tied up right now."

"You don't have to do that. I don't want to put anybody out. I can just wait until the paramedics are free, or I can drive myself in the morning."

I'm not sure that my arm should wait until morning, but I don't want to worry them any more than I already have at this point.

"It's not a bother. I promise." I can hear Alice's voice in the background, and then he says, "Actually, he should be there any minute. I was just informed that some little birdy had already spoken with him and asked him to stop by since she wasn't able to get a hold of you all day…"

The hum of an engine and the crunch of gravel alerts me to the arrival of another car just before I can see the beams of headlights illuminate the driveway through the glass of the front door.

"It looks like somebody just pulled into the driveway," I let Jasper know.

"Okay, he should be driving a big heavy-duty pickup. His name is Edward. Let me talk to him when he comes to the door."

I stand up and move a little closer to get a look at the large black truck in the driveway. "Yep. It's a big black pickup," I confirm while retreating to the kitchen before I remember that I left my purse in the bedroom at the back of the house.

At the sound of a knock on the front door, I turn and head back that way. I keep my chin down as I pull open the door and hand the man my phone without looking up. "Jasper for you," I explain at the same time as he introduces himself.

"Hi, I'm Edward… Oh, uh, okay. Thanks."

I can only hear his side of the conversation as he takes my phone from me, and I try to tuck my face further into my cowl.

"Hey, man. Yes, she called me late this afternoon because she hadn't heard… Right. What? Hold on."

I jump as a firm hand comes up under my collar and tilts my chin up. I close my eyes, cutting off my view, embarrassed that I'm meeting Jasper's friend under these circumstances. I look like a disaster.

He tilts my head from side to side and gently takes the cloth from my hand and wipes first under my nose and then my lip.

"Okay, Jasper," he says as he lets go of my chin, "she's definitely had a nasty fall, probably needs a couple of stitches in the orbicularis oris and her upper lip. No, her nose isn't bleeding. Between the lip and the nose, yes."

My eyes snap open at the mention of stitches, and I'm looking straight at his pectoral muscles. I tip my head back more, and I'm looking directly into concerned light green-grey eyes. He refolds the towel to a clean area and puts it back over my lip. I hold it in place with my left hand as he looks down at the ice pack on my wrist, and I try to convey by shaking my head and with my eyes that Jasper and Alice don't know about that part.

"Yes, I will. I'll make sure she's taken care of. I'll call you back later once she's been completely looked over. Okay." He looks at me and shakes the phone toward me, asking if I want to speak before he hangs up. I shake my head. "I will. Bye."

He ends the call and speaks as he leads me over to the couch with a hand at the small of my back. "So, Bella. What the hell did you do to yourself?"

A flush creeps up my neck as I watch him set my phone on the coffee table and begin explaining my day in detail. I tell him about the long walk in ill-fitting boots, which caused me to search out the no less ill-fitting flip-flops, which probably contributed to my tumble down the front steps. While I'm talking, Edward is gently moving and probing my wrist. I wince in pain when he tries to move it side to side.

"Are you a doctor, Edward?" I ask as my eyes travel over his handsome, though lightly-lined with age, face and obviously toned body under his dark jeans and long-sleeved v-neck.

"No, I'm a former army medic. I'm pretty sure you're going to need a couple of stitches in your lip and above your lip. That wrist needs an x-ray for sure."

I nod, unsure what else to say.

"The local hospital is small and a ways away and is currently dealing with a multi-car accident. I can take you to another doctor to get checked out, if you're okay with that."

"Are you sure you don't mind? I feel really stupid worrying my friends and putting you out. I can just wait until the paramedics can come."

He smiles, and I'm struck by how it transforms his serious features into something beautiful. I shake my head to clear it and immediately regret the swift motion. That train of thought has to be the wine talking.

"You're not putting me out. Alice was worried, and it appears she had good reason to be."

"No, not really. Other than my heels, I was just fine until about half an hour ago. I just didn't have a signal out on the hiking path and missed a call when I was in the tub…" I trail off, not really sure why I mentioned the tub. "Okay, I guess I'll just grab my purse, and we can head out."

"How about," he suggests gently, "you stay right here and I go grab your purse? Where is it?"

"It's on the dresser in the master bedroom. Last door on the right at the end of the hall." I point him in the right direction.

Edward heads down the hall, and soon, I can hear his footsteps coming back up the hall. I grab my phone and stand, heading over to wait for him by the front door. Once I'm standing in the entryway, I realize I have bare feet and it's getting chilly outside as the sun goes down. I'm looking hopelessly at my feet, begging the powers that be for a break when my slippers are dropped in front of me.

"Saw these on the floor by the bed, figured they were better than bare feet," Edward says. When I look up, he's smirking at me.

"Thanks," I mutter as I stuff my feet into the blessedly open-backed, fleece-lined slippers. I flip on the lights on the front porch as we exit; then I pause and stand awkwardly just outside the door. Edward regards me warily for a moment before his expression clears. He reaches around me and flips the welcome sign to the side, exposing the front door key. Smiling now, he locks the door and replaces the key on its hook. Then he motions for me to follow him down the stairs.

"Well, how was I to know if you were supposed to know where the key is kept?" I blurt as he watches me go down the stairs to be sure I don't take another header. I'm watching the placement of each foot, so I notice the drops of blood on a few of the steps and a small reddish puddle where I spat. Ew.

When we get to his truck, Edward opens the door for me and holds up his elbow for me to grip on to as I step up on the side rail and sit down on the passenger seat. The leather is thankfully still warm. Edward walks around to the other side of the truck and easily hops in.

I close my eyes and snuggle down so that my face is hidden by my sweater's collar again.

"I know you might want to close your eyes and relax, but I'd rather you stay awake. At least until we're sure you don't have a concussion," Edward says as he starts the truck and shifts into gear.

We drive for a while in silence, save for the soft music playing from the truck's sound system. I have a million questions running through my mind about this man who drove all the way out to the middle of nowhere at the request of a friend's wife, just to check on a woman he's never even met before. I stare out the window, not really able to see anything other than the occasional street light over the rural stop signs since darkness has fallen.

I must have nodded off because I startle awake as the truck comes to a stop. The wind has picked up considerably, and the temperature display on the truck's dash advises that the outside temperature is pretty cold now. We have pulled into a spot at a parking lot in front of a really industrial-looking building.

"Uh, do you happen to have a jacket or something I can borrow?" I ask. "It looks like it's gotten pretty cold out," I say, pointing to the illuminated number on the dash.

"Sure." Edward reaches between the front seat and passes me a zip-up hoodie from the back seat. "It's clean. I only wore it first thing this morning when it was still chilly out," he explains. I carefully pull the sleeve over my right wrist first; then Edward holds the shoulder of the sweater up so I can get my left arm in.

"Stay here," he requests. "I'll come around and help you out." As he exits the truck and walks around the front, I dip my nose toward my shoulder and sniff. There's a hint of spicy cologne on the sweater that I find comforting because the scent is familiar. I watch as Edward heads to the doors at the front of the building rather than to the passenger door. He walks inside and comes out with a wheelchair. I roll my eyes in exasperation. "I'm perfectly capable of walking, you know!" I whine when he opens the door for me.

Edward just smiles and helps me down and into the chair. We go to the typical triage area, and Edward leaves me to fill out paperwork and explain what happened to me to a tall blonde woman who reminds me of a supermodel masquerading as a nurse. Her name tag reads R. Hale, and she keeps smirking as she writes on her clipboard. It really pisses me off.

"It's not really funny, you know," I snap.

Her eyes shoot to mine, and she holds up a hand, palm first, toward me. "No, no! Sorry, I'm not laughing at what happened to you. That's obviously a really unfortunate accident. I was amused with Doc fussing all over you."

"Doc? You mean Edward? He said he's not a doctor. And how do you know him?"

"He's not a physician. It's just a nickname. He works here on the base. You didn't know?"

"Um, no. We just met. He's a friend of a friend who was coming to check on me before all this happened." I make a hand motion, encompassing my current physical situation. "What do you mean, base?" I ask.

"This is the on-base medical center at C.F.B. Ring Lake. It's like a small military hospital." She finishes up with her notes and pats me on the shoulder. "Somebody will be out in a minute to take you back to x-ray," the woman says before she heads through the same door Edward went when we arrived.

Well, shit. I've managed to end up on an army base with a former medic. I'm probably breaking some kind of law or code. There must be guidelines about civilians in these places, right?

Edward reappears from the back and begins to roll me through the doors and down a corridor. We reach a door labeled "Radiology," and Edward wheels me inside.

"Okay, I'm just going to roll you right up. I need you to put your wrist on the table." He moves my arm around and positions my wrist in an awkward but thankfully non-painful way.

"Where's the technician?" I ask.

Edward gives me a sharp salute followed by a wink and heads back behind the glass-enclosed area with the monitors and other various equipment. "Stay right like that. Don't move."

I hear a buzzing sound, and then Edward clicks some keys and checks a screen before coming back over and repositioning my wrist. He goes back to the computer and repeats the same instruction, then adjusts me again and takes another shot.

"Okay, all done. I'm going to walk you over to an exam room, and once he's reviewed these, the doctor will be in to check you over."

We enter a small room, and Edward leaves me to "hunt down something to munch on." I'm betting that since he was heading to me during the dinner hour, he probably hasn't eaten anything yet. He comes back quickly with a large container of pasta salad in one hand and two bottles of water in the other. He puts those down on the small desk in the room. Then he pulls a couple of forks wrapped in paper towel from his back pocket and a juice box from where it was squeezed between his elbow and ribs.

"Where'd you get all of that?" I ask, in awe of his scavenging skills.

"I stole part of Emmett's lunch from the fridge," he states.

"Who's Emmett," I ask just as the door swings open, revealing what is probably the largest man I have ever seen in person. He towers over me sitting in the wheelchair and has a good couple of inches in height over Edward and what seems like double the shoulder width.

"I am," the man answers. "Thanks for asking, jackass!" He smacks Edward on the shoulder with the file folder in his hand.

Edward scowls in response. "Rose told me to help myself, so I did."

"Just because she made it, doesn't give her the right to give it away!" he says loudly enough for probably the whole building to hear.

"Yes, it does!" I hear a voice call from somewhere down the hall. It sounds like the nurse from triage to me.

Edward chuckles and begins to eat as Emmett first checks my head out with the typical mini flashlight in the eyes, then checks out my scraped face and bloody lip. He asks me a few questions about how I feel and how I hit my head. He hums and then checks out my wrist. "Well, I don't think you have a concussion, but you definitely need a few stitches. Probably two in your lip and one just above. The radial bone in your wrist is broken. From what I can see in the x-rays, there's a portion of bone that we'll have to keep an eye on. If it shifts out of position, you might need to put a pin in it. I'm hoping to keep it in place with a good casting, but you'll need to get it checked again once the swelling goes down. I can't get a good look at the carpals between your thumb and wrist, so we're going to immobilize everything until a clearer x-ray can be taken. Rose will be back here in a few minutes to do the stitches; then I'll get a cast on that arm."

I spend another hour being fussed over and patched up and am so happy once Emmett and Nurse Hale say we're free to go after reminding me that I need to have the arm re-checked in a week.

I refuse to stay in the wheelchair, and Edward relents when I insist on walking on my own two feet back to the truck. As soon as we approach the front doors, I see why he was suggesting I stay in it. A thunderstorm has rolled in, and there are a lot of suspiciously deep-looking puddles between the doorway and Edward's truck. He moves in front of me and hunches down a bit. "Hop on," he says. I give up and climb up on his back, keeping my toes tipped up to try not to lose a slipper as Edward runs over to his truck, unlocking the doors with his key fob as we go. He pulls open the door and practically tosses me off his back into my seat.

When we get back to the cabin, the lightning storm is in full force, and the winds are lashing the windows. The rain is coming down so hard all I can see out the windows is a sheet of water. Edward's watching me like a hawk as I make my way over to the couch and slouch down, laying my head back against the arm and resting my casted arm across my middle.

Edward silently builds a fire in the large stone fireplace to warm up the chilly interior of the cabin, then rummages around in the kitchen. He asks me how I take my tea and brings over a tray with two mugs and a plate of the remaining lemon tarts. He grabs the throw blanket off the armchair, hands me a mug, and steps back after tucking the soft throw blanket around me. "Well, now that we know you're going to be just fine and you're all tucked in safe and sound, would it be completely inappropriate for me to ask you out for lunch sometime?"

I find his obvious embarrassment endearing. I've been a complete mess since the moment I've met this man, and if he's still willing to ask me for a date, who am I to say no?

This week has been horrible and this day nothing short of a disaster, but if I get a chance to know this handsome, kind enigma of a man a little better as a result of it, I'll count it as a win.

After all, things can only get better, right?

Host's Note: Thank you for reading, and please don't forget to review. Public voting runs November 7th to November 13th. Please remember to keep this contest anonymous by not leaving hints or theories as to who the author may be.