I shrug and pull my hand off his back before he gets the wrong idea. “Yeah.” Grabbing my phone from my purse, I open my contacts and he rattles off his number. “Really, try to get some sleep. You’re no good to her exhausted. When she wakes up, she’ll need you strong.”
He groans and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands before sucking in a breath and nodding. “You’re right.” His eyes wander a bit before he hooks me behind the neck. “Thanks, Shy.”
I watch in horror as he tugs me to him, his lips going toward my forehead before he quickly dips and presses his mouth to mine.
I wrench my head back. “Dustin . . . no.”
He slams his eyes closed and nods. “Sorry, I . . .” He shakes his head. “I’m just tired and you’re being so nice. Old habit I guess.”
I hold off on using the back of my hand to wipe his kiss from my lips. The guy is clearly in emotional distress; I can give him the courtesy of waiting until he leaves.
He slides his hand from the back of my neck and the sound of car tires peeling against asphalt catches my attention. He doesn’t seem to notice and stands, but my gaze swings to the large window that leads to the parking lot.
“Huh . . . looks like someone’s in a hurry,” I mumble to myself.
His eyes follow mine and the corner of his mouth lifts in an odd grin before he wipes it clean and looks down at me. “Thanks again and don’t forget to call me if you hear anything.”
I slump back into my chair and sigh. “No problem. I won’t.”
THIRTY-FOUR
SHYANN
A couple hours or so after Dustin left, I was allowed a short visit with Sam. Her mom had to grab some things and didn’t want her left alone in case she woke up. I was able to confirm with my own eyes all of what Dustin described. I felt sick to my stomach. By the time her mom came back, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I need air to try and curb the dizziness that plagued me while sitting in that cramped room with a woman who didn’t look anything like my old friend.
I push out of the doors and into the parking lot, fishing my phone from my pocket along with my keys. Hitting Dustin’s number, I head to my truck and suck in lungsful of precious fresh air.
“’Lo?” His voice is scratchy with sleep.
“Hey, Dustin. Sorry to wake you.”
Rustling of sheets and a yawn sound in my ear. “Everything okay? Sam, is she awake?”
I huff out a breath and lean against the hood, suddenly exhausted. “No, she’s still out. I just can’t sit here anymore, so I’m gonna take off.”
“Yeah, I understand.” More rustling of sheets. “I’ll be there in thirty.”
“Call me if she wakes up, okay?”
“Sure. Thanks for being there, ya know, for both of us.”
“Her parents are here. You don’t have to come down.”
“It’s okay, I want to.” There’s a longing in his voice that makes me smile. They really are good together.
“’Kay, talk to you later.”
I hit END and circle to my door, climbing inside and firing up the engine.
It’s after three o’clock and I should probably check in with my dad but first I need to go talk to Lucas. A flash of Sam’s swollen face, bruised neck, and busted lips flashes before my eyes. I told myself I’d give him time, and I’d planned on giving him more, but after today all I want to do is fall into his arms and make it all go away.
By the time I pull up to the river house, my heart is pounding with anticipation. I never knew I could be so attached to another person like this, but just seeing his truck, knowing he’ll be holding me in his arms soon, sends butterflies exploding in my belly.
I hop down and take off toward the house but have to double back to shut my truck door, my mind hardly able to keep up with my body.
Buddy peeks out from the porch, his dark eyes assessing.
“Hey, Bud.” I hit the front porch with force and knock on the door.
No answer, so I knock again. “Lucas, it’s me.”
Nothing.
I step to the railing and look to the side of the house, thinking maybe I missed him in my haste to get to the door. A light sound catches my attention and I turn back, realizing it came from inside.
A whisper of worry tickles my veins as I move to pound on the door again. “Lucas? You in there?”
Nothing.
I press my ear to the wood and strain to listen. Someone’s talking. A man. Maybe he’s on the phone? I knock again and hear the muffled voice, but this time I think he’s talking to me. Is he telling me to come in?
This isn’t right. Worry morphs to full-blown panic and the sense that something is off.
I reach for the handle and pray it’s unlocked, all while telling myself if it’s not I’ll break a damn window if I have to. Luckily the door clicks open and I step cautiously inside.
The kitchen and living room are littered with empty beer cans and a half bottle of Jack Daniel’s. My stomach clenches. Lucas doesn’t drink like this.
“Lucas?”
Still nothing.