Free Have a Little Faith by Kadi Dillon Page A

sighed. “N othing. I just want to go home.”
    “Did he hurt you?”
    “Sam? No, Sam would never hurt me.” Alex walked around him and climbed into the passenger seat without a backwards glance.
     
    It was nearly midnight by the time Lane pulled the truck into the driveway. Alex was asleep in the passenger seat. Instead of waking her, Lane rounded the truck and cradled her in his arms.
    Alex burrowed into his chest and made a sleepy sound that had Lane’s muscles tightening with desire . He carried her into the house and upstairs into her room.
    With his elbow, he flicked on the light switch and then gently laid her on her bed. He carefully removed her boots and saw a pink and white patch quilt bunched up beside her head. Taking it, Lane spread it out over her .
    He walked over to her window and pulled the curtains closed so that the morning sun wouldn’t wake her. Taking advantage of her unconscious state, Lane walked idly around her room.
    It was simple, he mused , without any frills or femininity. Her walls were painted a clover green and framed photos of horses hung throughout the room .
    A small black desk sat in the corner littered with papers. There were no personal pictures anywhere in her room just as he had noticed there were none through out the house.
    He wanted answers, he thought pacing. Things inside him were progressing much faster than he anticipated. She mattered too much not to know, he realized.
    He wanted to shake her until she woke up , then shake her until she gave him the answers he wanted. But as any business man knows, Lane knew how to bide h is time. But time, Lane thought — pressing a kiss to Al ex’s forehead— was running out.
     
    Alex awoke with a jolt and shot up into a sitting position. Her skin was clammy as it always was after a nightmare. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her head on them. Concentrating on breathing, she waited for the tremors to pass.
    It was always the same, she thought. She could hear her father’s voice. Loud and deep, he would call her those filthy names. Then he would raise his hand, or his belt. Sometimes, he hit her with both. She would run, oh she would run as fast as she could. But in every door she would open, in every hall she would turn, he would be there waiting.
    With one last shudder, Alex stood up from her bed and turned on the lamp. She was still in her clothes. Lane had taken her boots off, she realized with a smile.
    She remembered how he carried her all the way from the truck when she had been drifting in and out of consciousness. She remembered feeling protected and taken care of for the first time by a man other than Sam.
    She pinned her hair up and changed into a pair of flannel pants and a tank top, then slipped into her tennis shoes. With a backwards glance at the clock on her dresser, she knew she had about three hours before Jerk made his first call before the sun rose.
    She grabbed her quilt, the one she had made for Faith years ago and walked to the barn.
    She lit a lantern and dimmed the flame before climbing onto her cot and bundling Faith’s blanket in her arms. Gently, she ran her hand over the mate rial. She hummed absently as she would to a child as she recalled the nights she had stayed awake w hile she was pregnant , sewing that quilt.
    She remembered how her belly swelled and grew ripe with her child. How it felt to have her baby kick her from inside her womb . She remembered the worry she had over the prospect of labor and delivery. It turned out to be easy for her, she mused with a small smile. Ten hours with no complications was more than she could have hoped for at sixteen.
    So long ago, Alex thought desolately. She was so young, so inexperienced. She had dreams and plans. Hopes and fears. With a sigh, Alex dropped her head into the blanket and breathed in the familiar smell of jasmine soap.
    She wondered longingly if she would ever have any more children. If she were to consider Lane’s business