Lover's Leap by Emily March Read Free Book Online Page A

into a disaster? Judging by his daughter’s reaction that day, Sarah hadn’t been singing his praises all this time. What if Lori hated him? What if she told him to take a flying leap off Murphy Mountain?
    If that’s what happens, you’ll deal. You’ll be persistent and win her over. You can do this .
    With his thoughts on his daughter, Cam stepped into the bathroom, where everything was new, from the ceiling light fixture to the bathtub, sink, and commode, to the twelve-inch tile on the floor. Just why Cam looked at the tile and saw beige linoleum, he didn’t know, but that’s what happened. Suddenly, he was eight years old once again.
    Fear leached into his bones as his eyes flew open. He lay in his bed, staring into darkness, not knowing what had awakened him but sure that he didn’t like it. His heart pounded. He gripped his sheet with trembling hands and yanked it over his head. He lay hiding, cowering, trying not to listen, but listening hard .
    Finally, he heard it. A cry. A sob. His name?
    Mama .
    His mother had called for him. He needed to go see what she needed. But he was afraid. So afraid. Something was wrong. He tried, but he couldn’t make himself move .
    “Cameron,” came his mother’s thready voice. “Help me.”
    Cam bit his lip and willed himself to move his feet. Daddy wasn’t home. Daddy was never home anymore. Go. Go. Go. Go. Tears rolled across his temples .
    He held his breath and listened hard. He couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear anything. Finally, panting like a tired dog, he slipped out of bed. The hardwood floor was cold against his bare feet. Cautiously, he opened his bedroom door. He didn’t see anyone or anything. Biting his lip, he stepped into the hallway .
    Something smelled bad, and it made his stomach churn. “Mom?”
    No answer. Light shone from the bathroom, so he moved toward its open door. One step. Two. Three .
    He saw the blood first. A stream, a river of it, against the beige linoleum. Then his mother’s dark blood-soaked hair, her pale white face. Her eyes were closed. “Mama?” he asked in a little voice .
    Her lashes fluttered. Opened. Her voice was little more than a whisper. “Hurry. Get help.”
    Where before he couldn’t move at all, now he couldn’t move fast enough. He whirled around and dashed for the phone in the kitchen. He punched 911 and lifted the receiver to his ear, and then he remembered. No dial tone. They hadn’t paid the bill. He dropped the phone and dashed out the door just as the clock chimed two a.m. Where was his dad? His dad should be here!
    Cam ran to the house next door and pounded on the door, shouting, yelling, “Help me. Help me. Please. Help!”
    He knocked on the door for what seemed like a long time, but no one answered. The Roosevelts didn’t like the Murphys. “Help! Please. Help!”
    He saw a light come on, but nobody answered the door. Sobbing, he gave up and ran across the street. The Barlows didn’t hate his dad. Maybe they’d answer the door .
    Pain sliced into Cam’s foot. He tripped, cried out, and fell. His foot slammed against the ground, knocking the lid from the tin can free. Getting up, he ran and did his best to ignore the pain. He knocked and knocked and knocked, but the Barlows didn’t answer, either. Finally, at the third house, a woman answered the door. “My mama. She’s bleeding bad. Please, please, help us.”
    Knock. Knock. Knock . Devin’s voice jerked Cam back to the present. “Dad? You okay?”
    Cam blew out a harsh breath. Holy hell. His hands were shaking, and his knees were weak. Guess he couldn’t avoid those ghosts, after all. Clearing his throat, he said, “Yeah. I’m fine.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yeah.” He reached over and switched on the hot water. “Everything’s fine. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
    Half an hour later, he emerged from his bedroom showered, shaved, combed, and dressed in his newest pair of jeans and a freshly pressed long-sleeved green sport