Chapter Thirty
Faith gasped, heart in her throat as she shot up in bed. Her leg hurt where she’d been savagely kicked. Looking to her left, she saw Wyatt wrestling with her covers, legs kicking wildly at her nighttime assailant.
Getting her bearings, Faith reached out a hand, yanking it back when Wyatt turned from her back to her side, her eyes squeezed shut and her face screwed up in an expression of pure terror.
“No! Stop, stop!”
“Wyatt, wake up.” Faith reached out again and touched Wyatt’s shoulder, lightly squeezing. “Baby?”
Wyatt gasped, loud and terrified, as her eyes popped open. She looked at Faith—more through her, actually—as she scrambled away from her. “Don’t touch me!”
“Okay, okay, I’m a statue,” Faith said, hands up in supplication.
Wyatt’s breasts heaved beneath the b
