I wanted his arms.
I wanted to feel his whiskers on my cheek.
I wanted the protectiveness of his chest.
I just didn’t want him to see me like this.
But this was who I was at this exact moment. This was what I looked like when the people who were supposed to support me betrayed me. This was what remained when almost everything had been taken away.
Some people don’t like to let it all out, in fear that once those words are spoken, they can’t take them back. Some people worry that once it’s all out, there won’t be anything left.
Tonight, I was both.
When I arrived at Walker’s, I pressed the button on the call box outside his gate.
It was so late. It had to be close to two at least. The light in my dash that showed the time had been broken for months. If my car wasn’t so dark, I would have looked at my watch—something I appreciated that Dean had never seen or I was sure he would have tried to take it.
I knew Walker didn’t sleep, but would he hear the notification that someone was at his gate?
“Alivia?”
Thank God.
“Walker”—I balled my fist in front of my mouth as my voice broke—“please let me in.”
The gate opened, and I waited until there was just enough room to fit my car before I pulled in, parking outside his garage. As I headed toward the front of his house, the door was already open, and he was standing in the entryway. I didn’t slow as I rushed toward him, my arms circling his waist, clutching the back of his T-shirt, holding on with all my strength.
“Baby …” He hugged me back, his lips going to the top of my head. “Did you change your mind and decide to spend the night—why do you smell like vomit?”
I do?
I leaned back, and as he looked at my face, his entire expression changed.
“What the fuck happened?”
My eyes closed, my tears burning again. “Dean …”
I was in the air a second after that word left my mouth. Walker carried me into his kitchen and set me on the island. He went to grab a towel, and I watched as his breathing changed. His inhales and exhales louder than normal. He wet the towel under the faucet, and when he came to me, he gently wiped my cheeks and the front of my shirt—places the vomit had landed without me even realizing.
“I’m doing everything in my power not to scream right now.”
“Please don’t.” My head shook, and pieces of hair stuck to my face. “I can’t take any more. I can’t …”
He dropped the towel, his hands on my thighs, his face in front of mine. “If he laid a finger on you, Alivia … I’m going to fucking lose it.” His fingers were now on my face. Not to hold me. But to examine me.
“Not there.” I slowly lifted my tank top to show him my stomach. “Here.”
It was then that I realized how badly I still hurt. How my skin stung. How my insides felt like I’d been pressed through the potato cutter.
I winced as he touched the side of my stomach, and he lowered my shirt, his arms going around me, gripping the back of my head, making sure I was tucked in his chest.
“How did he do that to you?”
My eyes closed, and more wetness came out of them. “He kicked me.” I took a breath. “He had taken my tip money after he tore my purse off my arm. When I tried to get it back, this happened, and that was after he already pushed me. But it got uglier.” I was numb, yet I felt everything. So much of the night was blurry, yet I saw the details as though I were still on the floor in front of him. “He unbuckled hispants.”
The strength in Walker’s arms doubled, and my stomach got queasy again, the violent circling not just in there, but everywhere.
“I got out before he had his briefs down. But he wanted me to …” I couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t make them a reality. “You know …”
