“You’re right.” She scooted back a few inches from the table, scratched the back of her neck.
He leaned forward. “I’m sure there’s a lot of context that went into the verdict Gavin received. Legal reasons why it went the way that it did. But you and I both know that hewasguilty. You weren’t. You did nothing wrong. Your judgment was sound. Your judgmentissound.”
“Maybe so. Regardless, I don’t want the complexity that dating you would require. I’m not ready. It’s too scary.”
Remy had spent years proving her bravery to herself. He could see by her paleness what it had cost her to confess that something was too scary for her.
Tears gathered on her lower lashes and the sight of that was a blow to his lungs. He wanted to take Gavin’s neck in his hands and squeeze.
Her chair screeched as she jumped to her feet. “I need air. Do you need air? It’s too stuffy in here.” She disappeared outside, leaving the door hanging open.
He didn’t want to crowd her, so he gave her two full minutes. Then followed into the night. The sun had set almost forty-five minutes before, and it was nearing full dark. He stopped beside where she stood on the rocks of the cliff that dropped to churning black waves. She’d crossed her arms over her chest—a slender figure with long hair whipping.
The wind was raw tonight. It penetrated his clothing, chilling his skin and bones.
“Is there anything I can do to bring Gavin to justice?” he asked in a low tone that barely cut through the sea air. “If there is, I will do it. I will go to any lengths to see that he pays for his crime.”
She glanced across at him and he saw a flash of fierce gratitude before she turned her profile back to the ocean. “There’s nothing that can be done at this point. He was tried for raping me and acquitted. The only way he can be tried again in criminal court is if he does the same thing to another woman, which is utterly sickening. He’s out there free, and as long as that’s true, other women are at risk.” Several locks of hair slanted across her face. She disentangled them from her lips, then held them in her fist.
“Could you file a civil suit?”
“The clock’s run out on that option. Technically, I could have done so over the last six years. I didn’t because that would have meant dragging it all back out. Rehashing everything. And for what? They might have ruled in his favor again. But even if they hadn’t, he'd simply have had to pay me money. I don’t want his money.”
Remy had learned firsthand that the world wasn’t full of rosy sunsets. Yet she still hoped and smiled and contributed.
She turned and walked back to the house. Inside, she opened a cupboard in the kitchen and pulled out a liquor bottle. With hands that had gone white from the cold, she plunked down shot glasses on the counter, then filled them both to the brim with tequila.
“How come you didn’t share any of this with me back when I was begging you for alcohol and drugs?”
“Because drowning sorrows in liquor is a terrible idea,” she said. “A flaw. I do not recommend it.”
“How often do you drown your sorrows in tequila?”
“I don’t allow myself to do it very often at all. But tonight’s the time.”
Good. He could use tequila.
Using the tip of her pointer finger, she slid one of the glasses in front of him. They clinked the rims together. “Cheers.” They downed the fiery drink.
She gave a whistle and a gasping laugh.
“I want to stay on Islehaven and sleep on the waterboarding plank,” he said. “You want distance. So let’s hash out terms.”
“What’s your offer?”
“I’ll join you for your morning walks and yoga sessions on the weekdays. Then stay out of sight. Then bring dinner in the evenings.”
“The walks are fine but it’s a no for the yoga sessions. Most of the yoga poses require me to point my butt toward the ceiling.”
“That’s not a dealbreaker for me.”
“Hard no.”
“Fine.”
“You can bring dinner but only on the five weekdays.”
He assessed her, chin to chin. “Agreed.”
