Page 44 of Defending What is Mine

The more she talks about the Wildes, the worse the spinning gets. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Mol releases me from her momma bear grip and lightly rubs my back. “Yeah, I bet. I’m sure that’s normal, though.”

“No,” I yell as I jump up and run toward the bathroom. “I’m really going to be sick.”

* * *

I open my eyes to find myself in a dark room with a barely damp washcloth draped across my forehead, and not a clue how I got here.

“Mol?”

I sit up and allow my eyes to adjust. There’s a familiar looking nightstand, with a familiar looking alarm clock that reads seven-thirty.

Okay, I’m in my bedroom, so that’s a start.

“Mol?” I call again. Silence. Noticing the hall is dark as well, I try calling for Vanessa. When she doesn’t respond either, I seriously start to worry, until I lean over to switch on the lamp and see a note with my name in Mollie’s handwriting.

Sam,

If you find this before we get back, please don’t worry. All I’ve told Vanessa is that you aren’t feeling well. We decided to let you rest, so I’m treating her to dinner at the diner.

Be home soon,

Mol

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