Page 37 of Mountain Impact

Isolde was tempted to lift the duvet and check―if he was hard, maybe they’d have time to do something about it.

She looked at her phone to confirm the time―and froze, staring at the dark screen, her hand still on the side button. It wasn’t the time―06:20―but rather the date, that had her heart almost stopping.

It was the one-year anniversary of the day her patient had killed himself. Pierre Omont had been a twenty-nine-year-old Chamonix gendarme. He’d had a stellar track record and his whole life ahead of him. And then―

Isolde’s eyes filled with tears.

“Isolde? Is everything okay?”

Isolde looked back to find Drake sitting up in bed, looking at her. His eyes were full of concern.

No. Nothing is okay.

“I’m okay,” she said mechanically. It wasn’t like Drake could do anything to help. “I’m sorry, but I need to be alone.”

Drake pulled on his boxer shorts and pants in one quick move.

“Please, Isolde. Tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me.”

“I’m okay. I just … I didn’t realize that today I needed … it’s been great spending time with you over the last few days, Drake, but I need some time, okay?”

She saw by the widening of his gray eyes how much she was hurting him. He quickly finished putting on his clothes―a detached part of her thought it should be a crime to cover that body―then stood in front of her. She had to crane her neck up to see him.

“Please don’t do this, Isolde. Don’t lock me out. We did this to each other years ago, and I don’t think I can do it again. Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me.”

It was a long speech by Drake’s standards―there it was, his heart, out there for her to see. But Isolde couldn’t deal with it, not today. She still couldn’t believe she’d forgotten what day it was today.

What if I’m so distracted I lose track of the next Pierre?

“I’m sorry, Drake,” she said lamely. “I told you I didn’t want a relationship. If you misunderstood―”

He clenched his square jaw. “I don’t need a label for what we have together, Isolde, but I also don’t expect to be kicked to the curb in the mornings.”

He was right, of course. There was nothing she could say to that.

Drake sighed. “I’ll get out of your way, Isolde. But please believe me when I say, we can be so much more than that,” he said, pointing towards the bed behind them, “if you’ll let me in.”

A moment later, his black boots were on and he was out of the door.

I’m sorry, Drake.

She’d hurt him―and hurt herself as well. Because, regardless of what she’d told him, this wasn’t just about sex for her. It’d never been about sex.

Isolde showered and dressed quickly, still feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders.

At seven a.m., as she was getting ready to go out, her doorbell rang. Her heart fluttered.

Drake.

He’d come back for her. He’d―

It wasn’t Drake standing outside, but a slim, pale brunette in her mid-twenties. Although large sunglasses obscured half her face, and even though it’d been almost a year since she’d last seen her, Isolde had no trouble recognizing her.

Amélie Omont.

#

Drake