Lost (Captive Heart #1) by Carrie Aarons Read Free Book Online

like he was stealing the breath right out of my lungs. Like he was branding his name into my lips and my heart.
    He probably didn’t remember it because he barely even remembered it three days later. We went home, back to Conestoga, and started high school a week later. And he didn’t speak one word to me until almost two years later.
    I turned over, the pain in my chest calling for a shift in position. It was crazy how even a decade and so many other experiences later, Tucker Lynch still had the ability to make it feel like my heart was being ripped in half. I remember lying in bed for months, crying into my pillow. Because I had believed that kiss would change something.
    It was one of the first times I learned that Tucker Lynch was no good for me. That he could break my heart like a cheap plastic toy and keep walking without a backward glance.
    “OOOWW!” A guttural moan slices through the silent night air. At first I think maybe it’s an animal; being this deep in the Pocono Mountains, there is bound to be some wildlife scampering around the empty campgrounds. But then the noise comes again, and I realize it’s too close.
    Tucker.
    I’m a glutton for punishment as I spring up out of bed and make my way to cabin four, because Christ, how did the situation turn on its head? How did I become the victim taking care of my captor? Figures Tucker would have Stockholm Syndrome down to a science. He always did get everything he wanted.
    I run the short distance between the cabins, the late September night air chilly on my skin. Besides the T-shirt and sweatpants I found in the back room of the mess hall, I also found a slew of old sneakers, a raincoat, several sweatshirts and other clothing. All of it in varying sizes, all of it not quite fitting me. But, it was better than running around in a skirt and heels for the foreseeable future.
    Because as much as I wanted to be rescued, to go back to my life … I also didn’t. It had been almost two days since Tucker had stolen me from my ordinary, everyday … and I hadn’t missed it once.
    Did I want to be in the middle of this cold, desolate camp?
    Not really.
    Did I still hate Tucker Lynch and everything he represented about my past?
    Absolutely.
    But did being on the run kind of excite me? Take me away from the bland, normal life I’d been stuck in?
    Yes.
    And maybe you’d call that foolish and stupid, but like I said … I was a fool when it came to Tucker.
    When I push the door open, the first thing I see is Tucker, curled into a ball on the hard ground. And he’s openly weeping.
    “Tucker … jeez, what is it?” He’s scaring me.
    “Everything hurts. And I’m so cold.” He’s scratching at himself, and when I flick on the lights I can see he’s ripped at the skin on his arms so violently that three or more gashes are bleeding.
    “Stop! Stop!” Running to him, I pull at his arms long enough to make him stop mauling at his flesh.
    The bad thing about hiding out in a deserted camp on the brink of winter? There are no blankets. Kids bring their sleeping bags to camp. The Marsh’s never had to supply bedding.
    I dart through the cabin, hoping beyond hope that maybe someone left something behind. But no luck.
    When I come back to Tucker, who is cringing and crying on the floor, I know I have to do something.
    “Tuck, I am going to be right back. Okay? Right back. Please try to hang on.”
    I don’t bother waiting for him to answer. My heart is in my throat as I spring from one cabin to the next, trying to find anything that could pass as a blanket. Nothing in cabin three or two, but I do find two thin blankets, more like sheets but they’ll do, in cabin one. I also find an old ratty sleeping bag over in cabin eight and haul that with me too.
    Tucker is still writhing in pain when I get back to the cabin, and I quickly pull two mattresses off the bottom bunks he’s laying between. I spread them out in the open front hallway, if you can even call it that, of