Page 37 of Finish Line

On the ten-hour flight, my mind races with what I want to say to Shelby and how she could react. I hope she listens to me and lets me stay.

Hell, she may slam the door in my face or not even open it, refusing to see me. Plan B is to stay in a hotel nearby and check in on her as much as she will let me.

Once the plane lands, I take a cab to the Knight’s vacation house.

“First time in Hawaii?” The cabbie looks in the mirror.

“No, but it’s been a while since I’ve been here.” I stare out the window.

“So, what brings you back?”

“Love.” I glance at my watch. It’s eleven at night.

Shit, I’ve been so lost in thought, my mind spinning out, I didn’t even register that it was dark outside.

Should I wait until tomorrow to see her? I don’t want to scare her.

No, I can’t do that. I need to let her know I’m fine and here for her. That I love her no matter what happened in that basement. I’ll be by her side in whatever capacity she lets me.

It’ll be so hard not to wrap my arms around her the minute she’s in reach.

“We’re here, sir.”

“Sorry, I was lost in my head.”

I pay him and grab my bags from the truck.

“Good luck,” he says as he pulls away.

I’m going to need all the luck I can get. I hope I don’t scare her.

I go to ring the doorbell before thinking better of it and raising my hand to knock on the door, loud enough to be heard throughout the main part of the house.

Through the frosted privacy glass windows that run down each side of the door, I can see the TV and the outline of someone small jumping before their head turns.

Guilt creeps into me that even that sound caused her to startle.

Shelby rises and walks toward the door, but stops a good distance away, and a slight tremble fills her voice. “Who is it?”

I smile. “Your prince charming.”

The security hole in the door darkens as she peers through it before she steps back, and the fogged outline on the other side of the privacy glass shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t know any prince charming.”

She sounds unsure, and for a second, I worry she might not open the door, either for lack of wanting to see me or—fear lances my heart—because she doesn’t remember me.

Did Roger fuck with her mind, too?

Then the locks click open, and the door handle turns.

When the door opens, she steps into my line of sight. A curtain of blond hair falls across her cheeks, obscuring my view of her face, and my heart clenches for the thousandth time since I woke up in that hospital and learned Shelby wasn’t with me.

She’s so thin that, if she lifted her shirt, I could count her ribs, and her blue shorts don’t hide the handprint-shaped bruises on her thighs. She’s lost her spark.

Anger rises for everything she went through, and I struggle to swallow it.

She stares at her bare toes, the nails cracked and chipped. “How did you find me?”

I put a smile on my face. “From your Proof of Life photo. A corner of the wallpaper showed on the screen that Nick and I recognized. None of us can forget that bit of ugliness.”

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