Chapter 47 - Greg
Greg sat up with a jolt. Sam, who had been sleeping on the bed next to the recliner he occupied, was looking around disoriented and panicked.
He jumped to his feet and headed for the bedroom door.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know, but that was Mateo calling your name.”
She rushed out of bed and stuffed her feet into her sneakers. She was fully dressed, too. Would they have to run again?
“Stay back.” Greg opened the door a crack and peeked outside of Mateo’s bedroom and into the living room. “What the . . . ?” He felt his face drain of blood, his heart falter with stolen possibilities and fresh fear.
“What is it?” Sam asked, her voice trembling.
Greg backed away from the door, his head shaking from side to side. “No.” He turned and faced her.
He didn’t want to look into her eyes, didn’t want her to see the dread blossoming on his features like some sort of joy-murdering creature.
Ashby was alive.
The rightful owner of Sam’s heart was back from the dead.
“What’s going on, Greg? Please.”
Overwhelmed, he wrapped her in his arms and pressed a desperate kiss to her forehead. A sob escaped his lips. The shame of his cowardice and lack of faith washed over him.
“You’re scaring me,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
“I love you,” he said. “Don’t forget that, please.”
He pulled away, turned his back on her. His next intake of air was shaky and did nothing to provide the strength he needed to face what might come.
Doing his best not to fall apart, he planted his feet firmly, took a deep breath, and spoke the words he would rather bury in the depths of the ocean.
“Ashby’s here.”