Back Reckless Refuge
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Shay
  5. Brody
  6. Shay
  7. Brody
  8. Shay
  9. Brody
  10. Shay
  11. Brody
  12. Shay
  13. Brody
  14. Shay
  15. Shay
  16. Brody
  17. Shay
  18. Brody
  19. Shay
  20. Brody
  21. Shay
  22. Brody
  23. Shay
  24. Shay
  25. Brody
  26. Shay
  27. Brody
  28. Shay
  29. Shay
  30. Brody
  31. Shay
  32. Brody
  33. Shay
  34. Brody
  35. Shay
  36. Brody
  37. Shay
  38. Shay
  39. Brody
  40. Shay
  41. Brody
  42. Shay
  43. Brody
  44. Shay
  45. Brody
  46. Shay
  47. Brody
  48. Shay
  49. Brody
  50. Shay
  51. Brody
  52. Shay
  53. Shay
  54. Brody
  55. Epilogue
  56. Enjoy this Preview of Beneath the Wreckage
  57. Enjoy This Book?
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. Also Available from Catherine Cowles
  60. Stay Connected
  61. About Catherine Cowles

Shay’s voice broke me out of my stupor and pulled me back to the here and now. I eased the door open and entered what felt like a steam room. I quickly shut the door behind me so I didn’t let any heat out. “How’s it feel?”

“Like heaven.”

I grinned as I eased onto the tile floor next to the bath. “Glad to hear it.”

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to have me breaking in to use this tub every evening. I only have a shower in the guest house.”

I leaned against the wall, crossing my legs. “You know you’re welcome anytime.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, the water sloshing against the ceramic.

“You scared the hell out of me today.” I didn’t think I’d ever forget the panic creeping up my throat when Shay wouldn’t answer me. Wouldn’t even look at me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Where were you? You were lost somewhere, and I couldn’t bring you back.” I was bolder with my questions than I had been before. Maybe because a curtain hung between us, or because I was desperate for answers. I didn’t know.

Shay was quiet for a moment, the only sound a trickle of water here and there. “I don’t do well with feeling boxed in. Sam triggered a memory, and I couldn’t stop it. They used to take over a lot more. But it’s been a while since I’ve had one that bad.”

“What was the memory?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, yet I couldn’t resist asking. I needed to know every sore spot and trigger so I didn’t accidentally send her spiraling like today.

“Michael locked me in a trunk. We’d been looking for hide and seek spots for when our friends came over to play. He told me he didn’t think I’d fit, but I said I would. When I climbed in, he locked the latch. I was in there for almost eight hours before my parents found me.”

My breathing picked up, going a little ragged around the edges. Eight hours in the dark with no way out. “How old were you?”

“I was nine. Michael was seven.”

It seemed impossible that a seven-year-old boy was capable of something so insensitive and cruel. That he could simply walk away in the face of his sister’s terror. “What did your parents do?”