The last thing she could remember was falling asleep in his arms under the stars. This was the second time he’d found the strength to carry her up the stairs to bed. He wasn’t fully healed, and she was sure it must have been a painful task. Still, she wondered, with relief, if his leg was well enough to carry her sleeping body up the stairs, surely it was well enough for them to leave that house and finish what they’d started. Finish proving him innocent. It was what they’d been waiting for, but now the prospect of leaving that house sent her into a mini-panic. The way he’d been talking to her that night, like they’d already lost, had scared her. She didn’t want to think about things going south for them. She didn’t want to think about losing him. But Remy was right. They hadn’t won, yet. What he didn’t seem to understand was that losing was not an option. It couldn’t be. She didn’t know how she’d survive it.
