Remember Me by Sharon Sala Read Free Book Online Page B

of her legs and into her shoes. Remembered hailing a cab and feeling a sense of relief when she gave the cabby her address. But then her memory started to fuzz. She could remember them driving through traffic, but there was always traffic in Denver.
    What next? She frowned. A bus? She flinched as it careened around a corner of her mind. Had there been an accident? Was that why she was here? She remembered hurting and then getting very wet. After that, the need to get home to Clay seemed to overwhelm anything else she might have remembered.
    Someone began paging a doctor over the hospital intercom, interrupting her concentration. She tried to refocus, but all she could remember was taking the extra key from under the pot of dead geraniums on the front porch and going into the house.
    She inhaled again, this time picturing the inside of her house. What had she done after she’d gone inside? Oh yes. The utility room. Her clothes were soaked, and she’d gone to the laundry and tossed them in the dryer. On the way through the kitchen, she’d taken a painkiller for the headache, then she’d filched one of Clay’s T-shirts for a nightgown and crawled into bed.
    Unconsciously, her fingers doubled into fists as she clutched at the sheets, trying to find her way through the maze of images flashing through her mind.
    Suddenly something crashed in the hall outside her room. Before she could assimilate the noise, the door opened to her room. She gasped. A man stood silhouetted against the light. Even though her heart was telling her that the man had to be Clay, her mind was telling her different. The need to run overrode caution as she began kicking at her covers and yanking herself free from the machines they’d hooked up to her body.
    Clay bolted, catching her just as she tried to crawl out of bed.
    â€œFrankie, don’t.”
    â€œLet me go!” she begged, and started to cry. “Please let me go. I don’t want to die.”
    A shudder ripped through him. The wild, blank look on her face was terrifying—even more terrifying than the needle tracks had been. He didn’t know this woman. When she drew back her hand and slapped at his face, he took the blow open-mouthed and staring. Before he could react, blood spurted everywhere as the needle from her IV went flying to the floor.
    It was the color of red staining the pristine white of her sheets that broke his shock.
    He grabbed her arms and started yelling for a nurse.
    Her face was etched in fear as she kicked at both him and the covers over her legs. Moments later, the room was full of hospital staff and Clay was shuffled into the hall.
    He dropped into a nearby chair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands were shaking. His shirt was splattered with her blood. From where he was sitting, he could still hear her crying. A muscle jerked in the side of his jaw as he drew a deep, shuddering breath. The urge to cry along with her was strong. This was hell.
    A short while later, her doctor emerged. Clay stood.
    â€œIs she okay?”
    The doctor nodded.
    â€œWhat was that?” Clay asked.
    â€œI’m not sure, but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she suffered some sort of traumatic flashback. We gave her something to calm her down. When she’s better physically, you might consider some therapy.”
    A psychiatrist? Hell, what next? Clay exhaled slowly, then shoved a hand through his hair.
    â€œIs she having a nervous breakdown?”
    The doctor smiled. “No, Mr. LeGrand, nothing like that. As soon as she recovers, we’ll see how much she remembers and then go from there.”
    Clay accepted the explanation, but there was something at the back of his mind that wouldn’t let go. She’d been gone for two years. Her reappearance was as sudden and inexplicable as her disappearance had been. He hated to ask. It seemed like a betrayal of his feelings for Frankie. But for his own peace of