Fiona’s chest ached. It was the first thing she noticed as she slowly woke up. As she went to move, pain lanced through her, not just in her chest but in her leg as well. She hissed as she attempted to readjust herself. Suddenly, her brain kicked in, and she remembered what had happened. Clearly, she’d survived the fall, so was she back with Tommy? The thought soured her stomach. That was the last thing she wanted. Another face flashed in her mind, a man saying he was going to take her to the hospital.

This definitely wasn’t a hospital.

It felt like she’d been sleeping on an old, lumpy couch. As she tried to move an arm, she realized she was right. Her body was resting right up against the crook of the couch. She eased her eyes open a fraction at a time, trying to gauge where she was. A light snore drew her attention. She angled her head to see where it came from and found a stranger sleeping in the armchair across from her.

The man was not Tommy. He had dark hair that was long enough to have a curl to the ends, as well as some facial hair. It was more than a five o’clock shadow, but not quite a full beard yet. It looked scruffy and sexy. The long-sleeved navy T-shirt had three buttons in the middle of the neckline that were left open, revealing a sliver of skin. A logo of a large bird surrounded by a circle was printed on the left side of the shirt. The design rested just over what looked like a well-built chest. Tight, dark-wash denim covered long legs that were stretched out toward her. She tried not to let her imagination run away with her. Sure, it had been a while since she’d dated, but having a stalker kind of put a damper on a girl’s love life.

She tried to move again, to get more comfortable on the old couch, but she squeaked in pain as she discovered that twisting her upper body hurt like hell. The snoring stopped. She glanced over and found a pair of eyes watching her. They were such a rich dark brown that they almost looked black.

“Hi,” a voice thick with sleep said, sending a shiver over her skin. He cleared his throat. When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Do you remember what happened?”

“Most of it, I think, yeah.” She paused for a moment and an awkward silence fell, so she asked the question she needed the answer to above all others. “Who are you?”

“I’m Ben. And you are?”

“Fiona. Where are we?”

“My place. Honestly, I’m kinda surprised you’re not freaking out right now.”

“So long as Tommy doesn’t know where you live, then I’m most likely safer here than anywhere else.”

He stood so fast that he seemed to blur before her eyes as he disappeared behind her, but she couldn’t see what he was doing since she couldn’t turn. She did manage to prop herself into a more upright sitting position, although it hurt like hell to do so. When Ben reappeared, he was carrying two ice packs. Without saying a word, he retrieved a soggy bag of frozen peas from the floor and set the first ice pack on her swollen ankle before handing her the other one.

“For your ribs.” He gestured to her side. She couldn’t see where the bruising was, but it had to be there. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be giving her ice for the injury.

“Could you, uh . . . I can’t see where to put it,” she finished meekly. Her boobs were just too big. She couldn’t see her ribs without moving in a way that she knew would be painful.

“Here,” he said as he placed the ice just below the line of her sports bra.

She reached down and took over holding it. “Thanks.” Fiona had forgotten she was only wearing her leggings and sports bra. She probably stank as well, since she hadn’t had time to get cleaned up after the gym.

He sat down in the chair she’d seen him in when she’d woken up. “So, Tommy, huh?”

“My ex. The one who was standing on my balcony.” Shame flamed over her cheeks at the thought of being Tommy’s victim. She’d never thought of herself that way; he was just another stepping stone life had thrown at her. One that she needed to step on and crush before she could move on to the next thing. There would be a next thing. There always was, and whether it was good or bad, she’d deal with it, but first, she had to get away from Tommy. This time, she’d change her name when she moved, or something like that. Anything to throw him off her trail.

“I see. Did he push you?”

“No, I was trying to escape down to the balcony below, but he kicked my fingers and I lost my grip prematurely.” She paused for a moment, thinking about the height from which she had fallen. “How am I not more injured? I should have at least broken a leg or something. And why are my fingers not completely shattered?”

Ben nodded to her foot. “You’ve got a pretty bad sprain, and from the way you were moving, I’d think some bruised ribs, but the bushes broke most of your fall. As for your fingers? I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t hurt them as badly as you thought.”

She did remember the bushes, but there was also something else. Something hard and warm. It was like her mind couldn’t quite grasp whatever it was she was remembering.

“So, you thirsty? Hungry?” Ben asked as he ran a hand through his hair, the slight curls clinging to his fingers as though they were reluctant to let him go.

“Both?” she asked, unsure of what he was able to provide her with.

“Water okay with you?”

She nodded, and he rose from the chair. The long lean body she’d been admiring stretched as he raised his arms over his head to shake the vestiges of sleep away. Skin peeked through as his T-shirt rose above the edge of his jeans. He had a flat stomach with a trail of dark hairs that disappeared into his jeans, and her mouth went dry. How long had it been since she’d been attracted to a man? She’d moved so many times at this point that she couldn’t remember ever even getting close enough to any guy to be attracted to him. Fire began to burn in her blood as she took in the rest of the sleek yet powerful body in front of her.

Ben moved away then, a swagger in his step. Had he caught her looking at him? Seen her drooling? She touched the edge of her lips to make sure the drool was as imaginary as she thought. When it came away dry, she let out a breath in relief. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself in front of the man who had just saved her life.

He returned a moment later with a large glass of water, the condensation on the outside making her mouth feel drier than the Sahara. As he handed it to her, their fingers touched momentarily, and heat licked up her skin. She jerked her hand away, sloshing the water about and spilling it on the front of her sports bra, as well as the couch.

“I’m so sorry,” she said immediately while Ben calmly turned around and grabbed a cloth to soak up the water.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just water,” he said, tossing the towel at her and using the other that he’d grabbed on the side of the couch.

The bra was soaked, and while she wanted to take it off and ring it out, she couldn’t exactly move around very easily at that moment. Hell, between her ankle and her ribs, she couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t walk, couldn’t turn or bend. How long would it take to heal? Would she be able to get out of town like this? The questions swirled around inside her head, and her heart began to race. A cold sweat broke out down her spine and over her forehead.

“Hey, you okay?” Ben’s voice rumbled near her.

“Yeah, I, uh . . .” What could she say that wasn’t a blatant lie?

He squatted down next to her so his face was level with hers, and looked her directly in the eye. “Want to try that again?”

She remained silent. This man was a stranger. Sure, he’d saved her life and brought her home so she wouldn’t have to deal with trying to conceal her identity at a hospital, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Hell, I won’t even touch you unless it’s necessary or you ask me to, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” When she didn’t respond, he sighed and said, “I’ll tell you what, I’m going to go and toast some bagels since it’s about breakfast time, and when I come back, I would love to hear what’s going on in that head of yours. If you trust me enough to tell me, then I will help you any way I can.”

Fiona watched him stand and walk away as much as she could from her recumbent position on the couch. Could she trust him? Was telling him really that big of a risk? Everything felt surreal and strange.

By the time Ben came back with some delicious-smelling bagels, she was ready to talk.

“I hope cinnamon raisin is okay,” he said, offering her a plate that had a bagel covered with some cream cheese sitting perfectly in the center.

She hadn’t had bagels in forever, let alone one with cream cheese. “That’s good. Thanks.”

As he sat down, he took a bite of his own bagel and watched her expectantly. She lifted the treat to her mouth and took a small bite. The slight bitter taste of the cream cheese combined with the sweet taste of the dough was heaven. It was crunchy and soft and altogether perfect. She took another bite immediately after she finished chewing on the first.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Ben asked between bites.

With some effort, she restrained herself from inhaling the rest of the food, and started to tell him what was going on. “Tommy is my ex, as I said. He’s been stalking me for a couple years now. I’ve moved time and again, but he always seems to find me. I’ve even moved states and changed the field I work in, not that anyone would hire me as a journalist these days, between the news outlets closing down and the fact that I haven’t been able to hold a steady job in years . . . Anyway, now I take whatever jobs I can get that will allow me to remain somewhat under the radar and just be a nameless worker drone no one remembers. Last night, he found me again, and even though I called the police, they couldn’t help. Then he came back, and we fought. I escaped onto the balcony, and the rest you know.”

“How long were you guys together?”

“Almost a year.”

Then he asked the question everyone did. The one that made her want to scream. “You didn’t pick up on anything being wrong with him?”

“No. I mean, yeah, looking at it now, I see that the signs were there, but at the time, I wrote them off. His knife collection was just a hobby, his fascination with biology was just a love of science, etcetera, etcetera.”

“What made you leave?”

“I’d been feeling on edge for a while, like something was off. I could see it in photos we took together. He’d be smiling, but there was something in his eyes that scared me, and I had stopped smiling completely. I didn’t even realize it until one of my coworkers at the time pointed it out, back when I still had social media accounts and stuff like that. He gave me a knife for my birthday, and that’s when I left. It wasn’t a pocket knife, either. I’m talking a big hunting blade. I probably should have gone about leaving differently, eased out of the relationship or something, but I was too scared. He kept hinting at things that made my skin crawl, so one day while he was at work, I left. Cleared out everything that I’d ever taken to his place and left the key and a note letting him know we were done. The harassment started almost immediately. When it began interfering with my work, I lost my job, and then he really began stalking me. There was nowhere I could go that he wouldn’t follow. He’d be waiting for me outside the grocery store he knew I liked to go to, or I’d see his car in the parking lot of whatever job I’d managed to get. I began moving, hoping he couldn’t follow, but he always did. Now I need to get out of town, and I can’t even move, let alone pack the small amount of stuff I have at my apartment. If I go back, he’ll know. I don’t know how, but he always does, and then he’ll follow. It just scares me that I can’t run right now, that’s all.”

Ben sat back in his chair, a dark expression coloring his face.

She’d just confessed most of her life story to him, and she knew nothing about him, didn’t even know where his apartment was in relation to hers. It wasn’t an apartment in her complex; that much she was sure of. She’d toured all of them when she’d first come to town, and though she took the cheapest option, she knew the layout of his place wasn’t one of the floor plans her landlords offered. “Which side of town do you live on?”

“Not far from you, actually. Just a few miles northwest.”

“What were you doing at my place?” The question popped out before she could think to censor herself.

The frozen, carefully blank expression on Ben’s face was not what she’d expected.

“Ben?”

“Yeah, sorry, I must have zoned out for a moment. What were we talking about?”

Something was off. It almost seemed like he was pretending to be daydreaming. His eyes had been focused on her the whole time and had been tinged with panic. She asked the question again.

“I, uh, well, I was visiting a friend.”

Her suspicious nature was well and truly alert now, so she said, “Where do they live? Maybe I know them.” She didn’t know anyone, but he didn’t need to know that.

“It’s the one opposite yours?” His voice lifted at the end, implying a question that shouldn’t have been there.

“Oh, do you mean Oak or Maple?” The complex had named the different wings of the building according to the trees in the area, because they were just that creative.

“Maple.”

That was a problem. There wasn’t a wing called Maple, just Oak, Pine, Ash, and Elm. “I see.” It was a small test, just to make sure he wasn’t a creep, and he’d failed. Hard.

“Or maybe it was Oak. I don’t really remember. I was a little busy running to the woman who had just fallen off a balcony. All I know is it was supposed to be the wing to the right as I drove in.”

The wing names were painted in big bold images on the hallways inside the building and were also on a placard that sat outside each entrance to help guests and new tenants find their way.

What was he trying to hide? Maybe something, maybe nothing. If it was his first time to the complex and he saw her falling, then that was a pretty reasonable excuse for not knowing what the wings of the building were called.

She wasn’t sure what to say. Up until that point, she’d been happy to spend a few hours there recuperating from her fall, but now? Now, she wanted to get the hell out of Dodge.

“So, uh, can you take me to a doctor or ER or something?”

His gaze sharpened on her, the dark-brown eyes settling on her own as though he could read the truth therein. “You were pretty set against doing anything like that last night.”

She had played her hand too soon, and now he was suspicious of her, just as she was of him. “I know, but I need to get this ankle looked at and probably my ribs too.”

“I know a guy in health care. If you want, I can have him come over and take a look.”

“Thanks, but you’ve done enough. I shouldn’t take up any more of your time.”

“It’s no problem, really,” he said as he slid his fancy phone from his pocket and began texting someone.

Fiona’s heart was torn. She so badly wanted to trust this man who had rescued her, who had saved the life of a stranger, but there was something he wasn’t telling her.