Page 36 of Dare To Live

I cling to him; his body is solid and safe. I’m shaking with panic, and in my head I’m that little girl trapped in a dark house alone in the middle of a storm all over again. Another boom of thunder roars somewhere above the cabin, and I shriek.

“It can’t hurt you, you know that.” He murmurs into my hair as he carries me out of the bathroom. “You’re safe.”

I don’t care where he’s taking me as long as he doesn’t leave me alone. All my anger and pain are swept away in a primitive need for protection against the storm. It’s been years since I’ve experienced panic like this.

“I … I tried counting like you showed me, but it was getting closer.” My voice is small. I keep my eyes screwed shut. “So, I ran in here.”

“You remember me telling you that?”

I nod against his neck. “I didn’t forget.”

Something soft meets my back. “Baby, you need to let me go.”

Is he crazy? I’m never letting him go. Ever.

I tighten my grip on his neck. “No.”

He chuckles. “As impressed as I am by your octopus impression, you have to let me go so I can get into bed.”

“Oh.” Opening my eyes, I still can’t see anything, but I’m sure he’s lowered me onto a bed. I reluctantly release my hold on him, and scoot back.

He climbs onto the mattress beside me. The second he’s in place, I lunge for him, wrapping my arms and legs around his body. He drags the covers up and bundles us up in its warmth.

A hand strokes my back. “Honey, you don’t need to hug me that hard. Or is this a new tactic? Are you trying to break my ribs?”

“Sorry.” Just as I loosen my grip, another boom of thunder sounds. “Can you turn the lamp on, please?”

Eli’s fingers trace a pattern over my shoulders through my t-shirt. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like the dark.”

“You were never afraid of it before.”

“I know,” I whisper, his scent and heat enveloping me. “I just need the light on. Please, Eli.”

Because I’m already frightened and the memories of the psychopath who terrorized me are close to the surface. I should tell him that being stuck in the dark during a storm makes me feel as though I’m trapped in Churchill Bradley’s tomb all over again, desperately clawing to get out, but I can’t get the words out.

Eli moves, and the light flicks on. “Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The soft glow eases a little of the tension from my body. We’re in his bedroom and not the guestroom I’m staying in.

This is Eli’s bed.

“Do you keep a light on at home?”

Resting my head on his chest, I listen to the reassuring thud of his heart. “We rarely get thunderstorms in L.A. It’s why I moved there, but I have a nightlight I use. Miles got it for me. It’s in the shape of a unicorn and sits on my side in the bedroom.”

“A unicorn?” His voice is edged with amusement.

I nod. “It’s white, with a pink mane, and has a multi-colored horn.”

“Why am I not surprised he got you one of those?”

“He’s a good friend.”

“Where do you hide if you do get a storm?” There’s a note of curiosity in his tone.

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