Page 17 of The Breakaway

Adrenaline flooded my veins as a dark silhouette shifted near the doorway. It was happening again. My lungs constricted, refusing to expand. Trapped.I was trapped.

Panic clawed at my throat, and I was paralyzed by the sickening sense of déjà vu—heavy breathing, rough hands?—

A choked cry ripped from my throat as the shadow moved closer.No, no, no!A scream built in my chest but lodged there, blocked by sheer terror until I blurted, "Don't touch me! I won’t let you touch me again!" I hurled the words out into the blackness, my senses scrambling to make sense of what I was hearing, the shadow slowly creeping along the wall toward me.

"Sharla?"

A hand landed on my shoulder, and I flinched. It was so dark, I couldn't see anything, but the contact brought my body violently to life, breaking the spell. I tried to strike out with thepalm of my hand like I'd learned in the self-defense class I took last semester, then yelped when my arm tangled in the sheets. I gasped for breath, trying to extricate myself.

Before I could, I was scooped up, blankets and all, and crushed against a warm chest.

"It's me. Hey, shhhh. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm so sorry."

I worked to fill my lungs, my mind spinning. My head immediately defaulted to Logan, but that was impossible. He was across the country, which meant?—

"I know I'm the last person in the world you want here right now. I’m sorry. I'm not going to hurt you." He was rambling so fast, I could barely place his voice.

"Rob?" His name came out hoarse, and his arms tightened around me.

"Shh, Shar. I’ve got you.”

I forced a ragged breath into my lungs, blinking as my chest heaved. I was in my bedroom. It was Rob, nothim.He wasn’t trying to touch me. He wasn’t going to hurt me.

I repeated those last two sentences like prayers, and the panic began to subside.

As soon as my head stopped spinning, reality draped over me like a thick blanket.It was Rob.Why was Rob in my bedroom?

The day before crashed into my consciousness—the leak in the washroom.He was just coming in to use the washroom.

"What time is it?" I whispered.

Rob cleared his throat. "I don't know. I think around three?"

I dragged in greedy breaths, the vertigo beginning to subside as all of my other senses came online. Rob's heartbeat beneath my ear. His arms linked around me. No fabric between my cheek and his skin.

I should’ve been pissed. Should’ve shoved him away, but exhaustion sank into me like body lotion. "You said you would wear a shirt."

Rob blew out a breath, and I thought I caught a hint of a chuckle. "You were asleep. I didn't think you’d see anything."

That was nice. Not snarky or sarcastic, not pretending I wanted him or that I was a prude for telling him to put on clothes.Why was he being nice to me?

I needed to push away, to get the scent of his body wash or deodorant or whatever warm spice I was smelling out of my nostrils, but I couldn't move. My arms were limp noodles and my whole body felt like it was smothered under a candle snuffer.

I mustered the only fight I had in me. I needed to balance the force. "You seriously couldn't come home at a decent time when you knew you were going to have to come in here?"

"I tried to be quiet."

My heart thundered in my ears. Rob. Rob was sitting on my bed. His arms were around me, and he sounded lucid. Heat flashed through me. That, along with the adrenaline spike at the memory of Logan being in Winnipeg, allowed me to push myself out of Rob's arms.

I curled around myself, moving away from him. "Don't you think you couldnotparty for two nights until your washroom is fixed?" How could he be so selfish? The audacity to come home at all hours of the night and just assume that it was acceptable to walk into someone's bedroom.

Rob didn't answer, and the silence stretched between us like an elastic band ready to snap. I wrapped my arms around my knees, finally able to at least make out the outline of his head and shoulders.

"You think I was partying?" His voice was low, terse. Almost sad. It lobbed a bucket of cold water over the snarky reply I had waiting on the tip of my tongue, sparking doubt.Was hepartying?I'd been right next to him and hadn't smelled any alcohol or smoke.

"I come home late every night,” he said.

"Yeah. I'm aware." I swallowed hard.

---