“I told them.”
My gaze snaps up, so our eyes meet. My concern for him is the sharpest thing I’ve felt since I walked away from Daniel’s body.
“You—you told that part?”
He nods, the corners of his mouth twitching like they want to smile at my incredulity. “You were being stalked and assaulted on campus. You made a police report the night a rose was left in your bed, and campus police never even followed up. You had to protect yourself, Avery. No one from law enforcement was.”
“Is that how you said it?”
“When they pushed me, yes.”
Oh, my God. He’s so reckless. And fearless.
“Adversarial, Shane. Best tactic?”
Now he does smile. “Probably not.”
“I should’ve cried,” I repeat in a whisper. “We want law enforcement to see me as vulnerable. We want them on my side when they write their report.” Clearing my throat with a cough, I glance up at the exposed ceiling beams. “But I don’t feel like crying. I don’t—feel much. Just maybe relief. He wanted to rape me in the snow. He acted like there was no way to stop him. Like he could do whatever he wanted, and I could do nothing. I proved him wrong. And I’m not sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be.” Shane’s hard, resolute tone matches mine exactly. “Ever.”
I nod, shuddering.
Shane’s part monster. Thank God. He’s the only thing keeping me anchored to the world.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Where else would I be?” When he’s flippant and warm, that works, too. “Go take a shower.” He turns and shoves some more wood into the fireplace.
In the rustic bathroom, light from the exposed bulb reflects off glossy knotty pine walls. A moment later, I’m standing under hot water, watching soap suds cover my feet and the slate tiles. I don’t remember pouring shower gel into my hands or lathering myself up.
On and off, gaps of time continue to go missing.
It doesn’t matter. You’ll be all right.
When I emerge from the bathroom in a towel, I go straight to the bed. Crawling under the covers, I throw the towel out onto the floor.
“Shane?”
“Yeah?” He picks up the discarded towel and places it over the back of a chair near the fireplace.
“Do you have condom?”
He looks over his shoulder at me. “What’s on your mind, Ave?”
“I want to.”
Shane turns to face the bed. “I want to, too. Eventually. When the timing’s right.”
My thoughts are tangled vines that I don’t want to unwind. “I need to feel something. Your body against mine feels better than anything, so that’s what I want.”
His voice is soft, like he’s talking to a small child. “You’re not yourself right now.”
I can’t argue that, but I still want what I want. From him. “I know what I need. It’s you.”
“I’ll lie down with you.” He hauls his shirt off, then sits on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes and socks. He pauses, his brows crinkled, like he might waver. But then he stands and strips down to his skin.
When he joins me in the bed, I stroke his shoulders and press up against him.
