“You hit me!” he gasped, staring at the blood on his fingers. “You actually fucking hit me!”
“And I’ll do it again if you ever come near me or my boyfriend again,” I snarled, my whole body trembling with rage. The diner had gone completely silent, every eye fixed on our confrontation.
Diego moved beside me, his hand finding the small of my back in silent support. I could feel the tension radiating from him, like he was barely restraining himself from finishing what I’d started.
“You’ve lost yourfuckingmind,” Tommy spat, dabbing at his nose with a pristine handkerchief that quickly bloomed with crimson. “All for some... some ranch hand? You’re throwing away everything we built!”
“There’s nothing I built with you that I want,” I replied coldly. “Go home, Tommy. And don’t ever come looking for me again.”
His rage grew and grew, breaking through his careful crafted facade with every passing moment.
“This… This isassault,” he snarled, gesturing to his face. “Either come home with me or I’ll… I’ll have you arrested!”
I opened my mouth to reply, but another man stepped forward, one that I hadn’t been introduced to yet.
“Actually,” he said in a low Texas drawl, a hand going to his hip where there was a gun in its holster. “If you don’t get the hell out of here, I’ll haveyouarrested.” The man turned toward me, and I sawthe sheriff badge on his chest. “We’ve got about forty witnesses here that saw this man force himself on you. Would you like to press charges?” He gave me a knowing grin. “Can’t imagine a movie studio wants the papers to find out about their new star havin’ a sexual assault charge, right?”
Tommy’s face paled at the sheriff’s words. I watched the color drain from his perfect features, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he realized the trap he’d just walked into.
“I... I didn’t...” he stammered, backing away slightly. His hand was still pressed to his bleeding nose, blood staining his expensive shirt cuff.
“Yes,” I said firmly, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. “I want to press charges.”
Diego’s hand squeezed my shoulder, and I could feel his pride radiating through that simple touch. The sheriff nodded, already reaching for his handcuffs.
“Wait!” Tommy held up his hands. “This is ridiculous! I flew all this way to bring him home, and this is how he treats me?” He looked around desperately, seeking sympathy from the crowd of onlookers. “We’re together! We’ve been together for years!”
“Not anymore,” I said coldly. “And forcing yourself on someone is still assault, even if you used to date them.”
“I did not force myself?—”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” Dolly interrupted, stepping forward with fire in her gaze. “You grabbed my nephew without his consent. And I’ll testify to that.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the diner. Tommy’s eyes darted around, finally registering that he was surrounded by people who were firmly on my side.
“Fine,” he spat, taking another step back. “Keep your pathetic little life in this backwater town. When you’re ready to stop playing cowboy and come back to reality, don’t call me.”
“Trust me,” I replied, “I won’t.”
The sheriff moved closer. “You’ve got about ten seconds to get out of my town before I change my mind about those handcuffs.”
Tommy glared at me one last time, then turned and stormed out of the diner, slamming the door behind him. The bell jingled angrily in his wake.
For a moment, the diner remained silent. Then Dolly stepped forward, putting her arm around my shoulders.
“You okay, sugar?” she asked softly.
I nodded, suddenly aware that my hand was throbbing. I flexed my fingers, wincing slightly. “I think I might have broken something.”
Diego gently took my hand in his, examining my already swelling knuckles. “Might’ve,” he agreed, his voice a mixture of concern and admiration. “But damn, Freckles, that was one hell of a right hook.”
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, unexpected but genuine. The tension that had been building in my chest since Tommy walked in began to dissolve.
“I’ve never hit anyone before,” I admitted, looking down at my reddened knuckles with a strange sense of accomplishment.
“Well, you picked a mighty fine time to start,” the sheriff said, tipping his hat to me. “I’m Marcus Webb, by the way. I’ll have you come down to the station and make a statement after Christmas just in case that little asshole decides to show up again.” He glanced back toward the door, grinning to himself. “But I doubt he’s gonna come back after a punch like that.”
“Thanks,” I said to Sheriff Webb, still a bit dazed from what had just happened. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and I could feel the throbbing in my hand getting worse. “I’ll definitely come by after Christmas.”
