Page 21 of Running to You

Camilla squeezed her hand. “Are you and your mother close?”

“I guess.” She looked at Sam as if he could fill in the blanks. Not that he knew better, but he knew enough. Or used to.

Sam’s smirk told her he remembered her mother well. “If you don’t want to go there, then we can take you to the police. They’ll figure out—”

“No. No police.” The idea of it raised panic and sent her heart racing. She pressed her fingers to her temples and kneaded, waited for the pain to pass.

“Okay, then.” There was an edge to Sam’s voice, despite his attempt at soothing. “Then your mother. Or maybe Jeanette?”

Of course.

They weren’t together, and Sam wanted to get rid of her. But he’d always been kind. She could trust him to make the right decision. She needed to, since she had no idea what to do. And it was so much easier to let somebody take the lead.

Even though it felt like the wrong idea, she nodded. “Let’s go to Mom’s house. We’ll figure out…Mom and I will figure out where to go from there.”

“Good.” Sam spoke to his brother. “You saw the bruises?”

“I did. We should tell her.”

Sam’s eyes darkened, and his lips tightened at the corners. “Go ahead.”

The brothers shared a long look, and then Daniel spoke. “Sam said you had a nightmare last night. You remember that?”

“I think I was running from something. I don’t remember the details.”

“When he was in your room, cleaning up…was it a lamp?”

Eliza turned to Sam. “Sorry about that. I can replace—”

“It’s just a lamp.” His words were low, nearly a growl. And there was that anger again. “It doesn’t matter.”

Daniel said, “He saw some bruises on your upper arm. The ones I looked at just now.”

“Okay.” She was bruised all over. Which was weird, but obviously, she’d been in some sort of accident.

“There’s one on the front of each arm,” Daniel explained. “Three on the back.”

She was nodding, trying to figure out what he was saying.

Sam stood suddenly, scooted past Camilla between the sofa and the coffee table, and plopped down. He reached toward her, then stopped. “Is it okay if I just show you? Demonstrate?”

“I guess.”

He placed his hands on her upper arms. One on each. He didn’t squeeze, though, just left his hands there. And watched her reaction.

A million memories came. Dancing. Gazing into his warm eyes. Kissing that strong neck.

He had a line of hair down the middle of his chest and moaned with delight when she skimmed her fingers over it.

She remembered tickling his ribs, eliciting a very girly giggle. And then being tickled into submission.

She loved him. With everything in her, she loved him.

Had loved him.

Now, his brows lowered, his mouth pressed tight. And she forced herself to stay in the moment, even if the past was preferable. The past where she knew who she was, knew Sam loved her.

Now, he was holding her because of bruises…