Page 14 of Running to You

“She didn’t want to go to the hospital. Maybe she knows instinctively that whoever did that to her will track her down if she does.”

“Maybe.”

Sam rubbed the back of his aching neck. What kind of idiot slept on the floor?

Outside the room of a woman who didn’t want him?

“It’s not my problem.” After worrying and praying and worrying some more, Sam had finally reached that obvious conclusion. “I’ll take her home today. Her mother will take care of her.”

Daniel nodded. “They’re close, her and her mom?”

He sipped his coffee. “Her mother’s...” Controlling. Manipulative. Judgmental. “She has a very strong personality. But she loves Eliza. I’m sure she’ll be able to fill in the blanks about what’s been going on in her life. Eliza could barely sneeze without consulting her mother.” Bitterness tinged those last few words.

“Did she have something to do with you two—?”

“We need to tell Eliza the truth today, right? I mean, she can’t go on thinking I’m her boyfriend. And thinking it’s twenty seventeen.” He needed to get Eliza to people who could take care of her.

Daniel didn’t press his question. “Assuming she wakes up feeling refreshed—and hasn’t remembered everything already, which she might. Yeah, we need to tell her.”

That she’d lost five years of her life. Her memories.

That she no longer loved the man she’d run to the night before.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sunshine peeked between the curtains and the window jamb, lighting the room Eliza had barely seen the night before.

After a stretch cut short by unexpected aches—wow, what didn’t hurt?—she sat up in bed and took the space in. It was large enough to easily accommodate the queen-sized bed, two nightstands, and an oversize bureau beside the door. Between narrow bookshelves that faced each other, a little built-in bench sat beneath a bay window, covered with an upholstered cushion and throw pillows. The perfect place to recline, read, and enjoy the view. Not that she knew what that view showed, with the blinds closed. Her headache warned her that she wasn’t ready for quite that much brightness.

The space was beautiful, light and airy and welcoming. There were no personal items. No photographs. Nothing to indicate that anybody stayed in this room. Apparently, it was for guests.

How was this Sam’s house? How could she not remember it?

She swung her feet to the floor and caught sight of shoes there. Right. She’d broken a lamp. Sam had come in and cleaned it up.

The memories of the night were fuzzy. Memories of how she got here were nonexistent.

She had memories, though—of herself and Sam walking on the beach. Seated on her sofa, watching TV. Flying across the waves on a jet ski. But they felt distant and…off.

And also right there, as if she could touch them.

Her stomach growled. When was the last time she’d eaten?

She and Sam had gone to dinner…not last night. At some point. Italian, she thought.

She pressed her palms to her temple. It was no use. Her own brain was fighting her. Despite the ibuprofen she’d taken a couple hours before, the ache remained, more acute when she tried to think back.

She shoved her feet into sneakers she didn’t recognize and headed for the bathroom.

It was beautiful and modern. The pale blue walls matched the bedroom. White countertops. Gold fixtures. A chandelier hung in the center of the space. Fluffy white towels were perfectly arranged on open shelves. Beside them, a basket filled with travel-sized soaps and lotions and deodorant and toothpaste, along with unopened packages of toothbrushes. Sam’s sister-in-law’s hairbrush still sat on the counter, left for her use. She pulled it through her hair, which hung straight and flat and far too long.

She stared at her reflection, horrified at what stared back. She had dark smudges around her puffy eyes. Wait. One was worse than the other. Not just dark from lack of sleep, but… Was that a bruise? She touched the swollen spot and felt a dull pain.

She had a black eye?

Yup. And beneath it, a small bandage on her cheek. Daniel had dabbed ointment on it the night before. How could she remember that so clearly but not remember how she’d gotten the cut in the first place?

What in the world had happened?