Page 14 of Wrecked for Love
As I flipped through more photos, cooing over each one, it became clear that Elia had been a happy boy—a striking contrast to the lone man who now lived here.
I parked the thought as a yawn crept in, maybe a sign that sleep was finally coming. And with the image of a cute little Elia in my head, it wasn’t a bad way to end the night.
After putting everything back in its place, I crawled into the left side of the bed—his side. His scent lingered there, comforting in a strange way. And, sure enough, the right side was lumpy, just as he’d said.
Fatigue settled over me like a heavy blanket, but this time, it wasn’t from fear or running. It was the kind of tiredness that let my body loosen, and my mind finally quieten.
It had been too long since sleep came without a fight.
5
ELIA
As I drifted in and out of sleep, Koda’s low woof nudged me awake. I groaned, slapping the pillow over my head. “Go back to sleep, you goof.”
He didn’t relent. His bark grew sharper.
“What now? Afraid of the storm all of a sudden?”
Koda didn’t budge, urging me to sit up. It struck me how silent it was. The storm had passed, so I had no idea what had gotten into my dog.
But then I heard it—a faint whimper, followed by a dull thump. Moments later, a series of muffled thuds echoed from down the hall.
The blanket was off in an instant, my pulse quickening. “Claire?” I called, but only the thudding answered, growing more persistent.
“Claire, you okay?” I got up. I had turned the fire low so the warmth of the fireplace didn’t quite reach the hallway, and the air bit through my shirtless chest. I approached the door at the end of the hall, the one I’d warned her not to close.
“Oh, fuck!” I groused. She had, and now it was shut tight like a clamshell.
“Claire, I’m coming in. Move back,” I said, raising my voice enough so she’d hear, but no response came. I pressed my ear against the door. No sounds from her side, just those thudding noises. I listened hard, trying to pinpoint her location, and I was certain she wasn’t anywhere near the door. I had enough space to kick it open without hurting her.
With a quick breath, I kicked the door in.
“No. No. Claire!”
She was on the floor, and her body trembled violently as if she was fighting something in her dreams—something terrible. I’d never seen someone so petrified in their sleep.
“Hey, wake up!” I kneeled down and shook her by the shoulders, trying to break through whatever hell her mind was stuck in. “Claire, it’s me. Wake up!”
Her hands shot out suddenly, clutching my bare chest like she was climbing a wall, but then she shoved me away with surprising strength.
Damn. Even in her sleep, she had trust issues—and I thought mine were bad. I knew that feeling all too well. My whole life had been one long cautionary tale. This town had its fair share of people with scores to settle, and I had a few of my own. The kind that kept you constantly looking over your shoulder, always questioning people’s motives. You never really knew who was on your side or who was just waiting for the right moment to stab you in the back.
I stood up, ready to go back to sleep and let her wrestle with whatever enemy haunted her dreams. Hell, I wouldn’t want to be one of them after that push. She hadn’t asked for my help from the start, other than the gas. If she was prepared to shove me away, I figured I should just let her be.
But I barely made it to the doorway before I turned back. I wouldn’t forgive myself if she ended up getting hurt. I called out again, “Claire!” Louder this time, but I still kept my distance.
“Code!” she screamed, her voice raw. “Code! Come on!”
What the hell? Code? Was she dreaming about forcing someone to give up a code?
Her chest heaved as she woke, her eyes wide and wild with fear, gasping for air. Tears streamed down her face. Whatever she had been dreaming about, it wasn’t just a nightmare. It was something far worse.
I didn’t need to be a genius to know she had secrets—big ones. I should’ve been smart enough to keep my distance, maybe even smart enough not to let her stay here at all. But I couldn’t leave her out there in the cold. And right now, I sure as hell couldn’t let her cry alone.
So, I did the only thing that felt right. I lowered myself to the floor beside her, keeping my movements slow and careful. She sat up, her knees tucked into her chest, sobbing into her hands.
The sound broke something in me. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, maybe twenty-two. What kind of pain, what kind of burden, could a woman so young possibly carry to lead her here like this?
