First of all, he was beautiful. I’d never seen a dog like him before, with his sleek coat and intelligent eyes. And even though he was huge, he had a sweetness about him that was hard toresist—unlike his owner. From the moment he’d attached himself to me, it had just felt right, like he’d always been mine. When Derek told David and Eleanor that Tora didn’t like strangers, my heart swelled. I’d joked about being married to Tora, but the truth was, he made this whole bizarre situation more bearable. When Derek and I were at odds, at least I knew there was someone in the apartment who was on my side.
When I’d realized Tora was missing, I’d been heartbroken and determined not to come back without him. My reaction to losing him had been partly guilt, but it had also been fear of facing Derek. He’d been so worried when I’d come back from our walk Sunday morning, and once again, I’d forgotten to leave a note letting him know I’d taken Tora. I couldn’t imagine how he must have felt getting that call from David. My eyes prickled with fresh tears just thinking about it.
Of course Derek was furious with me.
How could he not be?
First he thought I’d stolen his project. Then I’d lost his dog. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably feel the same way.
At least it solved the problem of my conflicting feelings about Derek. Whatever romanticized notions I’d entertained over the past few days were officially dead. This was why catching feelings for Derek Carter was a terrible idea. I needed to shift my focus back to the project and keep it there.
Getting out of bed was harder than I expected. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck, probably because I’d gone over twenty-four hours without food and cried myself into dehydration.My hand hovered on the doorknob, my heart racing. The fact that I’d slept in wet workout clothes and my hair resembled a tangled bird’s nest weren’t the only reasons I was dreading stepping out of the room. I wasn’t sure I was ready to face Derek.
It was Tora who greeted me first when I opened the bedroom door. He trotted over, his tail wagging furiously, and sniffed my hand before giving it a reassuring lick. I patted his head and managed a weak smile as I shuffled toward the kitchen. My stomach flipped when I saw Derek sitting at the table. He was dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, his hands wrapped around a coffee mug that no longer steamed. He looked deep in thought, his brows furrowed in a way that made my chest tighten.
He startled when he saw me and quickly stood.
“Jasmine,” he said, his voice tinged with surprise. “You don’t look so good.”
“Are you kidding me?” I snapped, my voice louder than I’d intended. The sudden outburst made my head pound. “I ‘don’t look so good’?”
“Jasmine, I didn’t mean—” he started, but I cut him off.
“Of course I don’t look good, Derek! I spent an entire day wandering around this town in the pouring rain, screaming my lungs out, before spending the night crying my eyes out. I feel like trash, so it would stand to reason that I look like trash, too. Thanks for pointing that out.”
I turned on my heel, intending to make a dramatic exit, but the universe had other plans. The room tilted, my knees buckled, and I had to grab the counter to steady myself.
“Hey, are you—What the hell, you’re burning up!” Derek’shands were on me before I could protest, one wrapping around my waist while the other pressed against my forehead. His touch was warm and steadying, and for a moment, I hated how much I wanted to lean into him.
“Jasmine, you really don’t look well,” he said, his voice softer now, filled with concern.
That was the last straw. I whipped around, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but the effort was too much. The world spun, my vision blurred, and I felt myself sinking. The last thing I heard before everything went black was Tora’s frantic barking and Derek calling my name.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Derek
She fell into my arms, and I nearly lost my balance trying to catch her. Her body was limp, her eyes fluttering like she was trying to wake up but couldn’t quite manage it. Her skin was alarmingly warm, almost feverish, and she was still wearing the damp running outfit she’d left the apartment in the previous morning. Her complexion had turned ashen, and her lips were dry and cracked. I swallowed hard, panic starting to grip my chest.
“Hey, Jasmine,” I murmured, scooping her into my arms as gently as I could and carrying her to the living room couch. My heart raced as I placed her down, brushing a strand of damp hair away from her face. “Jasmine. Wake up.” Her eyes fluttered open for a split second before closing again, and her head lolled to the side.
I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking as I dialed 911. After a seemingly eternal hold, they informed me that it could take over forty-five minutes for an ambulance to arrive. Frustrationand fear twisted in my gut as I hung up and immediately called David.
“Hey, Ch—” he began, but I cut him off before he could finish his greeting.
“David, it’s Jasmine. She’s sick. She’s passed out. She’s got a fever. I gotta get her to a hospital. I called 911, but they said it could take up to forty-five minutes. I need help.”
“Hold on, hold on,” David said, his voice calm and steady, which only made me feel more frantic. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”
I crouched down beside Jasmine, still unconscious on the couch, and let out a shaky exhale. I explained the last twelve hours in a rambling rush, carefully omitting the part where I’d berated her for losing Tora and left her to cry herself to sleep without any food. Guilt and regret clawed at my chest, and I blinked rapidly to keep tears at bay. If anything happened to her, I’d never forgive myself.
Barely ten minutes later, a firm knock at the door jolted me from my spiraling thoughts. When I opened it, David filed in, followed by his wife, Eleanor, holding a large cloth tote bag, and another woman with a stethoscope draped around her neck and a leather satchel slung over one shoulder.
“David, thank you for coming,” I said, ushering them inside.
“Of course,” he replied, clapping a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Derek, this is Dr. Emery Lyons. She’s one of the town’s doctors.”
“Thank you for coming,” I stammered, feeling a flicker of hope for the first time since Jasmine collapsed. “I tried calling 911, but…”
