II. You know my name... not my story.

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  I wake up with a jolt. Sweat is running down my neck and back. I'm panting, looking around. That's when I notice him. Grey eyes.

He's driving, holding onto the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. I look into the rear view mirror just as he looks up.

He pulls off to the side of the highway and turns off the car. He opens his door and in one swift motion, the back door is open and I'm pulled into his strong embrace.

I notice his breathing is a little heavy and he's slightly trembling. "I'm okay," I croak out.

How long have I been out?

He pulls back, only enough to meet my gaze. "What was that? I don't understand. You come running out of your house, holding your wrist. And in seconds your freaking out. You had me scared shitless and I about beat that fucks face in, what the bloody hell-" I cut him off, "you're British?" I question wide eyed, just now noticing his beautiful accent.

He stops, looking at me as if I'm crazy. "That's what you get from all this." He stares. "I- I uh I just," I can't form a coherent sentence.

I don't want to have to explain what happened. I've never had to tell anyone. No ones ever cared.

I look down, hoping he'll leave it alone. "It's ok," he says putting his finger under my chin so that I'm looking at him. "You don't have to explain. Not until your ready," he whispers, planting a small kiss on my forehead and closes the door.

He gets back into the drivers seat and starts the car. "Wait," I say, halting his actions. He looks back at me through the mirror.

"What's your name?" I ask. He stares at me through the mirror, possibly contemplating if he wants to tell me or not.

"Adam," he says, sending chills down my spine as he starts to pull back on to the highway.

A/N

Hmmm..  Adams being a little touchy with Avery.
Who else feels bad for Avery?

 Who else feels bad for Avery?

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