Protect Me(69)

After several quiet minutes, Nate finally says, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” I reply.

He clears his throat a little before he continues. “When you left the hospital in Daytona that night, where did you go?”

I tense a little, not expecting Nate’s question to be about my past. I never openly talk about this part of my life, and especially not as much as I have in recent weeks. However, with Nate’s arms still firmly around me, I feel safe enough to tell him the rest of my story.

“When I left the hospital, I had on a designer evening gown and no shoes. My ribs were either cracked or broken, but I didn’t care. The pain was excruciating, but the thought of freedom was greater than the pain.

“I walked down one of the main arteries of Daytona, heading towards the beach. My purse had about twenty dollars in it and a tube of lipstick. I had saved about twelve hundred bucks over the last year or so but it was safely hidden at the house. And there was no way I could return there to collect the money or even a pair of shoes.

“Eventually, I stumbled upon a woman’s shelter. I knocked on the heavy wooden door once and it opened instantly. I was pulled inside by this older, petite woman. She didn’t say a word as she held my arm and moved us towards a small room with a desk and a small bed. She sat me down on the bed, retrieved clean bedding and some oversized clean clothes. That was it. No questions. She just helped me.

“I had the worst night of sleep of my life that night. I was in pain and was having nightmares, but every time I woke up, the woman was right there next to my bed. I learned the next day that her name was Connie. She helped me shower because there was no way I could bend or move. She rewrapped my abdomen and helped me dress. She also brought me food and water. She was my saving grace when I had nothing.”

“How long were you there?” Nate croaks through what sounds like a dry throat.

“About three weeks. Just long enough to get most of my strength back. Connie was one of the volunteers at the shelter, but we became very close while I was there. She helped me clean that gown and then took it, along with all of the jewelry I was wearing that night, to a pawn shop on the other side of Daytona. I used that money to purchase the bare necessities of clothes and a piece of crap car. She also helped me change my name,” I confess.

“Your name?” Nate asks. Our eyes connect for the first time since I started telling him about Daytona.

“Yeah, my name. I was born Amelia Justine Bryant,” I confide.

“Shit. You changed it so that the bastard couldn’t find you, didn’t you?” he asks, though it’s not really a question.

“Yes. Connie helped me. Walker was my grandmother’s maiden name. She died before I was born, but it was the only other family name I could think of. And of course, Lia is short for Amelia,” I whisper, dropping my eyes again.

“I like Lia better,” Nate says.

“I can’t stand to hear Amelia,” I say. Too many bad memories attached to that name. Hearing it makes my skin crawl.

Nate pulls me tightly against his warm chest, our faces press together cheek to cheek. I breathe in the same warm air that Nate does.

“When I was healthy enough to leave Daytona, Connie helped me line up a job that paid cash and an apartment. I don’t know if it was part of the shelter’s resources or if she did it on her own, but I am eternally grateful to her. I miss her and think about her often, but I can’t chance calling her. As many times as I’ve picked up the phone, I know that calling could lead to being found.”

“You’re safe, baby. You are so fucking safe here,” Nate says, almost angrily. He hugs me so tight that I can’t breathe. Just when I start to get dizzy from lack of oxygen, he eases up on his embrace. But not completely.

“I need you to promise me something, Lia,” Nate says and turns me to face him. “Promise me that if something scares you, you won’t run. Promise me you will come to me and let me help you. Promise me that you won’t up and leave in the middle of the night. Promise me, Lia,” he urges with a great deal of desperation in his deep voice.

I know I’m about to do the one thing I never wanted to do to Nate: lie. “I promise,” I whisper. It takes everything I have to get that one statement, that one lie, two little words, out of my mouth. Because when all else fails, I can’t - I won’t - put Nate or his family in jeopardy. I won’t risk their safety. I will leave.

“Thank you,” Nate says as he stands us both up. “Let’s head home,” he adds and steers me towards his car. After I’m tucked inside, Nate returns the chair to the shed and joins me in the moonlit car. Before he starts it up, he places the sweetest, softest kiss on my lips. I don’t even want to think about what that kiss is filled with. It’ll make my leaving, hurt that much more.