Page 11 of Running to You

But, despite his fatigue, despite the late hour, after he clicked off the light, he stared at the ceiling. Praying for Eliza. Trying not to think about her sleeping in the next room.

And that she thought they were still in love.

CHAPTER TWO

They found her.

Eliza ran, ran as fast as she could. But the ground was squishy like dry sand. Branches gripped her ankles, pulled her down.

She could hear them. They were closing in. It was over. Everything she’d done, everything she’d tried, and it was all over.

Terror started deep inside. It clawed its way up from her stomach to her throat and choked her until she couldn’t breathe.

She sat up, gasping for breath.

A nightmare. Only a nightmare.

But…where was she? This wasn’t her bed. This wasn’t her room.

She propelled herself off the mattress, stumbled. Caught herself with her hand. Pain stabbed her wrist, and she sucked in a breath and reached for something to steady herself.

A crash broke through the silence. What was that? Where did—?

A door opened.

A man rushed inside. “Eliza? Are you all right?” He moved toward her.

She backed away, bumped the mattress. Climbed on and scrambled to the far side, away from the stranger.

“Hey, hey. It’s me. You’re safe. It’s Sam.”

Sam.

It was Sam.

He came toward the bed, hands up, palms out. He froze and, after a glance at the floor, headed for the other side of the bed. Toward her.

Her heart pounded with fear, but she didn’t know why. She didn’t know anything.

“It’s just me, Eliza.” His voice was soothing. “I heard a crash. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you all right?”

With the hallway light behind him, she could barely make out his face. But his voice calmed her. Yes, she could trust that voice.

“What happened?”

“A nightmare. That’s all. Just a stupid nightmare.”

“You’re okay, then? How’s your head?”

Oh. It ached, now that he mentioned it. Right. She’d hurt it. She touched the bump on the back of her skull. It seemed bigger than before.

“Is it all right if I turn on the light?” he asked. “I want to get these pieces picked up so you don’t cut your foot.”

“What pieces?”

“The lamp. Lie down and close your eyes so the light doesn’t make your headache worse.”

She shouldn’t let him clean up after her. But her wrist throbbed—because, in her panic, she’d stupidly put her weight on it. Her head pounded, and her heart raced.