Page 4 of Mountain Impact

Drake took a step towards her, and Isolde suddenly felt very small. Which was interesting, because small was not an adjective she’d ever associated with herself. At five-six, she might be average height for a woman, but she’d always been solid—of course, most people weren’t six-four, either, or built like a brick shithouse.

“I’m sorry about what happened, Drake,” she said, suddenly needing to clear the air between them. If anything, his eyes got even colder—he knew she wasn’t talking about what had happened today.

“You’re sorry?” he asked tightly. “I shared things with you. And you took that information and used it to almost ruin my career.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry you took it that way. My report wasn’t meant—”

“There’s nothing I want to say to you about what happened six years ago, Dr. Durant,” he said. “You’re here to talk about what happened today, right? So let’s do it.”

The sight of his scar and the smell of whatever the firefighter had been spraying played on her mind, threatening to bring her back to that other crash site years ago.

Isolde made a fist, curling her nails into her palms, hoping the pain would steady her, but her muscles were barely responding. Something squeezed her chest—hard—as the forest closed in on her, cold and oppressive.

Isolde knew dozens of techniques to help stop panic attacks―hell, she taught them―but suddenly couldn’t bring any of them to mind.

I can’t breathe.

I need to get out of here.

“We could speak tomorrow,” she said, her voice tinny to her own ears.

“No time like the present,” he replied, a sour smile playing on his full lips. He took a step forward, his cold gray eyes fixed on hers.

Isolde took an unconscious step backwards.

Chapter 2

Drake

Drake stared at Isolde, waiting for her to make some witty comeback—the psychologist was smart as a whip. It was one of the things he’d liked about her all those years ago—one of many things, if he was honest with himself.

He admired her legs in those tight jeans she was wearing—he had to admit, they did amazing things for her curves. It was difficult to believe, but Isolde was even more beautiful now than she’d been when they’d met six years earlier. Still curvy and soft in all the right places, but somehow more grown up now. Her eyes were the color of pure honey, a dramatic contrast against her dark hair—some strands were tied back, as usual, to keep it out of her eyes, while the rest fell loose over her shoulders. One strand had gotten free and was falling over her eyes.

He was close enough to smell her feminine perfume. Close enough that he could almost reach out and pull that rebel strand out of her eyes. Drake shook himself. He had no business looking at her like that.

Remember what she did.

“Shall we get started? Do you want to see the cabin?”

When she didn’t reply to his taunt, he stared at her more closely.

Is she paler than she was just a minute ago?

Her skin had gone sallow, her lips bleached to an almost blue tone. Her small hands were clenched into fists—her chest heaved and her whole body shook as she struggled to take in her next breath.

All of Drake’s righteous anger disappeared as he realized what he was looking at.

Jesus, she’s being triggered.

And you’re the asshole making it worse.

“Isolde?” he asked, hating the way his voice sounded so gruff when he spoke to her. “Isolde,” he repeated firmly.

She raised her eyes towards him—the pupils dilated so the entire center of her eye looked black, with only a thin honey-colored ring at the edges. But at least she was reacting to his voice.

“I think I’m going to—”

Pass out? Throw up?