Silent Run

moment neither of us knows the truth about you. You can’t explain your actions, and I can’t understand. That’s where we are, Sarah. You have to find a way to get through the block in your head. If it’s fear and pain, you have to battle through it."
    â€œI don’t know how to do that."
    â€œYes, you do. I watched you climb three hundred and seventy-two stairs with shaky, exhausted legs and a determined spirit. You know how to make it to the top. You’re not a quitter."
    â€œI’m afraid,” she murmured. “I’m scared of finding out that I left you as cruelly as you said I did, that something terrible is happening to my daughter while I’m locked up in this lost world in my head. I’m terrified that whoever is trying to kill me will succeed if I don’t remember him before he finds me again.” She began to tremble and shake, and she couldn’t seem to stop. She was so cold. She felt so lost. And maybe she hadn’t felt like quitting before, but she did now. The mountain facing her, filled with doubts and lies, seemed insurmountable.
    After a moment Jake came over to her, hauled her to her feet and into his embrace, pressing her head against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She inhaled the scent of him and her body began to warm. As the long, silent minutes passed, she leaned on him, absorbed his strength, and for the first time since she’d woken up in the hospital she felt safe.
    At some point their embrace changed. She became acutely aware of Jake’s heart beating against her chest, the points where their bodies touched, the way their hips fit together, their legs entwined. Jake stroked her back, creating a line of fire that ran down her spine.
    His breathing changed, quickened. She wanted to move, but she couldn’t possibly take a step away from him. Her body went from relaxed to tense -- but it was a different kind of tension, a different kind of need.
    Jake put his hand under her chin, forcing her head up so she would have to meet his gaze. “Damn you, Sarah."
    She sucked in a quick breath at the look of raw desire in his eyes. “We shouldn’t,” she whispered.
    â€œHell, no,” he agreed as his thumb ran roughly around the edge of her mouth.
    Her lips parted. She hadn’t meant it as an invitation, but he took it as one, crushing her mouth with his own in a harsh kiss that was a mix of anger and passion. She didn’t know where one emotion began and the other ended. She just knew she didn’t want the kiss to end. But it had to end. It needed to end.
    Jake pulled away first, his breathing ragged, his eyes glittering. He gripped her arms, his fingers tightening so hard she could feel their imprint on her skin. Then he moved her away from him and released her, taking a couple steps back, putting some distance between them. For long moments all they did was stare at each other. Then Jake turned on his heel, stomped into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
    She let out a breath, sinking down on her chair as she heard the shower go on.
    Had he always kissed her like that? No wonder she’d gone to bed with him so fast. Her entire body was on fire. But she’d almost made a huge mistake. She couldn’t make love with Jake. She didn’t know him. He was a stranger to her now.
    But the problem was... she felt as if she did know him. Her body recognized him, even if her mind didn’t, and her heart wanted to reach out to his. She felt an emotional connection as well as a physical one. And Jake felt something, too.
    Despite everything she’d done to him, he still wanted her -- and he hated himself for it. She knew his shower would be long, cold, and punishing.
    For several minutes she just sat, breathing in and out, trying to calm down, but she could still taste Jake on her lips, feel his hands on her arms. At last she had a memory of him, a very recent memory, and it was overwhelming.
    Finally her heart settled into a reasonable beat, and she forced herself to concentrate on what she needed to do next. Without Jake’s presence she tried to relax, visualize herself in the place she had called home for the past few months. There had to be a clue to her life somewhere in this apartment. She’d slept here every night. She’d eaten at the table, cooked in the kitchen, watched her baby sleep in the crib. Her gaze swept back and forth across the room.
    Something bothered