Page 26 of Repluse

He ends the call.

After switchingmy calls to divert to my backup number, I leave my phone in my toiletry bag, clean my teeth, wash my face, moisturise, and as quickly as I can with one arm, I pull on a pair of leggings and a hoodie. After pushing my feet into my Nikes without bothering to untie them, I finger comb my hair and inspect my reflection. I look truly awful. Bruising aside, my skin is pale, and I have dark circles under my eyes. Makeup is pointless at this stage, so there’s not a lot I can do to improve on anything. Plus, I’ve already taken fifteen minutes, and Sam will be waiting. Once I’ve grabbed my crossbody Michael Kors bag and my keys, I make my way downstairs.

Sam has parked his car directly next to the lifts. As the doors slide open, he’s the first thing I see. His long frame leans against the passenger side door, with his legs crossed at the ankles.

His eyes hit mine before moving rapidly across the entirety of my face, down to the cast on my wrist, the rest of my body, then down at the ground for a few seconds. I’m aware of what ashocking sight I am, so I stand motionless and give him time to process as the lift doors close behind me.

When he finally looks up again, I’m almost floored by the anger emanating from him. Brows drawn down over blue eyes, his stubble-covered jaw tense, he nods slowly.

“Your father-in-law did this to you?”

I nod.

“Why?”

“I tried to stop him from attacking his daughter Ella—my sister-in-law.”

His frown deepens as he first nods, then shakes his head. “Where was your husband when all this was happening?”

“He was there.”

“And he..”

“… told me I shouldn’t have interfered.”

He blinks once slowly, then three or four times rapidly before giving a long exhale. “I want to wrap you in my arms, but I’m scared I’ll hurt you,” he says quietly.

“It’ll hurt me more if you don’t,” I whisper.

He moves in an instant. Just experiencing the warmth and closeness of another human has my heart feeling lighter than it has in days. I breathe in his scent as he gently holds me.

My mind is an absolute tumult of thoughts and feelings. I’ve known this man less than a week, have spent less than forty-eight hours with him, so why does being back in his arms feel so fucking good?

Stepping back, he looks down at me. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Helping me into the car, he buckles me up, kisses the top of my head, closes my door, then goes around to his side.

He’d left the engine running, and Jelly Roll’s “Somebody Save Me” plays down low as I watch him slide in, pull on his seatbelt, check his rear-view mirror, then pull away.

As we exit the underground car park and merge into Melbourne traffic, I feel a weight lift from my chest. Once again slammed with emotion, I turn and stare out of the window as I attempt to compose myself.

We both remain silent until I realise we’re not heading towards Frankie’s place but out of the city.

“Where are we going?”

“My place down on the Mornington Peninsula.”

“Why?” I finally turn towards him.

“We need to talk.” His eyes slice between his rear-view and wing mirrors as we filter onto the freeway. When he stares ahead, his focus solely on the road, I turn away.

“And we can’t do that at Frankie’s?”

“No.”

My stomach lurches as a thought hits me. “My phone. I need my phone. I’ve diverted all my…” I turn to face him again as I panic, watching as he lifts my phone from the wireless charger and passes it to me.

“I collected it before I picked you up. It hasn’t rung.”

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