Page 39 of Finish Line

My blood pressure climbs when I remember the broken sadness in her gaze, and I want to find that asshole and hit him for every bruise she has on her body.

I put clean sheets on the bare mattress, then hop in the shower. I’m pretty tired since I couldn’t sleep on the plane, too worried about how Shelby would react to seeing me.

Grateful Shelby didn’t chuck me out on my ear, I crawl into bed after I dry off and fall asleep.

Not long after I fall asleep, a scream rips through the still night air. Bursting into action, I race out of my room and down the stairs to Shelby’s room. What I find breaks my heart.

She thrashes in her bed, the sheets tangling around her. The tighter they wrap around her body, the worse her nightmare battle gets.

I walk over to the side of the bed and carefully sit, putting one hand on the bed, close but not touching her.

I keep my voice low and gentle. “Shelby, you’re safe. I’m right here to protect you. Shhh, I love you. You’re safe. I’ve got you, Shelby. You’re not there anymore.”

I repeat the words, and they must sink in even, because her thrashing eventually calms. Her face is flushed, her hair sticking to her sweat-slicked forehead.

Her eyes flutter open, her eyes unfocused, as if she’s still dreaming. “Cam.”

“Yeah, honey, I’m here.” I pause with my hand mid-air, restraining my urge to swipe her hair off her face.

She grabs my hand and tugs hard. In my shock at her sudden move, I collapse onto the bed. She falls into a light sleep, my hand clutched tight in hers against her breast.

I lie frozen in uncertainty. I don’t want to freak her out if she wakes up holding my hand.

Soon, her breathing deepens, so I slip my hand from her grip, but she grabs my hand tighter. She won’t let me go; she needs me. I don’t try to move again. I sleep on and off, too afraid to fall asleep and pull her against me like I used to before.

The sun begins its ascent into the sky while I drift between wakefulness and sleep when she mumbles my name.

I open my eyes, and her blue ones lock onto mine.

“You had a nightmare, and I came to check on you. I was trying to let you know you weren’t alone and comfort you the best I could when you grabbed my hand and wouldn’t let go,” I mumble fast, afraid she’s going to be mad.

She swiftly releases my hand and sits up. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is full of guilt.

“That’s why I’m here. Want some breakfast?” I give her a cheeky wink.

She wrings her hands together. “Um, I’ve been going for a run in the mornings.”

“Go ahead. How long do you normally run for?” I ask.

Her brow furrows. “I’m not sure. I’ve never timed it.”

“That’s cool.” I run my hand over my chin. “I’ll wait until you come back.”

Her eyes roam over my body, pausing on the red, puckered scar on my side, and her lips tremble.

I bend to look into her eyes. “Beautiful, I’m fine. The knife didn’t hurt anything important. Don’t think twice about it. Okay?”

She sniffles and nods her head.

“Go for your jog. I’ll shower and have breakfast ready for when you’re done.”

I run upstairs to take a shower.

I stand under the hot water, letting it run over my sore muscles. Last night, I was so afraid to move that my back and neck cramped.

Once I’m relaxed, I dress and head downstairs.

I walk out to the back porch and spot her down on the beach. I’m glad she’s trying to get back in shape. She’s far too skinny, but I hope to change that.

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