Free Light Unshaken (Unveiled #2) by Crystal Walton Page A

street. An interstate sign passed above us as he pulled out his cell.
    “Who are you calling?”
    “911—”
    “No.” I tugged his arm and swatted his cell to the floorboard.
    He glared. “What are you doing?”
    “Don’t. Please.” My body shook with my voice. “We can’t.” My eyelids fell again, shutting out the blurred images of trees passing along the edge of the highway.
    The car swerved into the right lane. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
    I shook my head. “No. Just . . . just take me home.” I set a hand on his arm. “Please.”
    He let out a hoarse exhale. His blinker snapped on, throttle picking up. He reached for his cell again.
    “A. J.—”
    “I’m just calling Trey. Somebody needs to go lock up the center.” He must’ve read the look of concern on my face. “Don’t worry. Those guys are long gone by now.”
    Please be right. I settled back into my seat. My eyes stayed shut until the car stopped moving. In front of my apartment, he unbuckled my seatbelt and helped me out of the car.
    I pushed off the doorframe and stumbled to my feet. “I can make it to the door.”
    He caught my elbow as I slanted to one side. “Don’t be so stubborn. If you won’t let me take you to a doctor, at least let me carry you inside.”
    The distance from the curb to the door stretched farther than it should have. I nodded.
    He lifted me in both arms into a source of safety I craved more than I realized. Warm, comforting, his muscles contracted under my back and legs each time he mounted another stair.
    In my room, he drew back my covers and laid me on the mattress. Everything about him exuded strength. No wonder he didn’t have any problem taking down those two guys.
    Had he been hurt at all? Before he could straighten, I grabbed his hand. He winced softly. “A. J., your knuckles.”
    “It’s nothing.” He slipped his fingers out of mine and gently dabbed a tissue to my chin.
    Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who’d been running on adrenaline. Now that it was beginning to drain, pain surged in its place. I steadied his hand, pulled the bloody tissue from my chin, and cupped the base of my neck.
    His forehead pinched. “I’ll be right back.”
    A minute later, he returned with a glass of water and a couple of pills. “Here.”
    “Thanks.” I sat up to swallow the pain meds. A rush of lightheadedness passed but didn’t shut out flashes of the night replaying through my mind. I started to get out of bed. “My phone.”
    A. J. eased me back down. “I got it.” He retrieved it from my purse and slipped it onto the charger next to my bed. Shaking his head, he smiled in a way that felt real for the first time in months as he swept a strand of knotted hair off my face. “Try to rest.”
    He’d almost reached the bedroom door when I sat up again. “Wait,” I called. “Thank you. For not leaving me at the office alone tonight. I don’t know what would’ve happened . . .” I shuddered at the possibility.
    He kept his back toward me and his hand over the light switch. His arm dropped to his side. Looking over his shoulder, A. J. smiled one last time and turned off the light.
    The weight of my eyelids took over. For the second time that night, everything went black.
     
    The morning brought a barrage of aching reminders of a night I wanted to forget. Fatigue tightened across my shoulders. Trying to sit up sent me right back down. Vague dreams of A. J. taking care of me gradually faded behind the light coming through the window until my clock blinked into focus. 11:00?
    I threw back my covers and pulled my cell off the charger. No missed calls. Just a text from after midnight.
    Sorry. Last minute rehearsal ran longer than I thought. Will call in the A.M.
    Residual aches from last night didn’t compare to the pain of missing Riley. My thumb hovered over the Instagram app. The need to see his face overpowered any reservation about what else I might see.
    He’d posted five new pictures.