Page 100 of Crave Me

“Well, speaking of, we gotta talk. You may not remember the details ’cause you weren’t holding it together, but I got some info on Blaire’s accident.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I try to rack my brain for what he could be talking about.

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“It was a hit-and-run. The police came back to ask some questions, but Officer Hawkins stayed back to talk to me in private. He doesn’t think it was an accident but wouldn’t give me more details, just asked if I knew of anything that might help him out. But I had Wes pull the police report. The tire marks on the road were only from one vehicle. Blaire’s. The other car hit her and didn’t even try to pass her or break. They side-swiped her, caused her to fishtail and spin out at a high speed, then bolted.”

“Holy fuck.”

Nausea churns in my stomach.

“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt her?”

“Fuck!” I yell, pulling the short strands of my hair as I pace, trying to think of anyone who would want to hurt my girl. Only one evil motherfucker comes to mind. The one who still haunts her like a fucking disease she can’t shake.

“Look, Blaire isn’t who she told us she was when we hired her. I mean, she’s Blaire Hollis, but her background isn’t a happy one, and she was trying to protect herself from sharing the details. She’s trying to start a new life. This goes to your grave, Sawyer.”

“Doesn’t need to be said, brother, get to your damn point.”

“A few weeks ago, she told me that she thought she saw her abuser at the distillery. He is or maybe was serving a sentence at Washington Pen. I offered to do an inmate search with her to make sure he was still behind bars, but she was insistent she do it on her own. I don’t fucking know.”

“And you just let it go? What the fuck, Dallas?”

“You don’t know Blaire like I do. If I fucking push, she flees. I don’t even have his goddamn name.”

The fucking file. His name is the goddamn file Wes pulled for me.

“Fucking get it. In the meantime, I’m going to get a plan together.”

“We’re going to stay at Mom and Dad’s. Over my dead body will something happen to her again.”

“Get me a goddamn name, Dallas.”

How the fuck do I do that without scaring her or breaching her damn privacy again?

Chapter Thirty-Four

Blaire

Turns out healing from a hysterectomy while also trying to heal bumps, bruises, and a cracked rib is a total bitch. I have never felt so tired before. It’s a bone-deep exhaustion that doesn’t get better from sleeping through the night and taking naps. My sleep has been devoid of my usual nightmares, and I don’t know if it’s tiredness or the fact that Dallas hasn’t left my side since before I even woke.

I do my best to listen to the nurse’s discharge instructions, but find myself thankful that Dallas and his mom are both paying attention and asking questions. Neither of them knows that my uterus was removed, just that I had internal bleeding that needed surgery to fix. The deep bruises from the seatbelt doing its job are proof enough that healing is going to take a while.

I’m wheeled through the hospital like an invalid by my sweet male nurse, Dallas grumbling that he could do it himself, but the nurse stuck to protocol, which I was happy about. He’s been so attentive, and there’s a part of me that feels bad that I won’t even talk to him, and that I shy away from him even though my body is screaming for his touch. Sawyer pulls up at the roundabout at the front of the hospital and jumps out, opening the door for me.Together, Dallas and the nurse help me stand and walk slowly to the SUV, assisting me in climbing in.

The moment I’m in the car and Dallas reaches over me to pull the seat belt carefully in place, the panic begins to crawl over my skin like a bad rash. My breathing starts to come in rapid bursts, and my vision goes foggy. I grab for Dallas’ wrist, looking at him through my blurry vision. He touches my face, bringing his lips to my forehead and pressing them into me. When he releases his kiss, he looks at me, gently placing his hands on each side of my face.

“You’re safe. Do you want me to drive, or do you want me back here with you?”

I hate that he’s giving me the option to choose. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to make decisions. I don’t know. All I know is this feeling inside me of fear is incapacitating and making it hard to breathe.

My eyes dart all over his face and I feel the tears slide free, running over my cheeks. I feel so lost, like I’m floating around with nothing to ground me.

“I don’t know. I don’t— I can’t?—”

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