I stepped closer to her, pinning her to her desk. “Baby, who was that?”
She continued to rub her arms as she met my eyes. “Clifford Thayer. He’s a hedge fund manager who donates a good chunk of money to Walker House. Well, he used to, anyway.”
“He fuck with you on the regular?”
She shook her head. “Not physically, no.”
“Let me see your arms.”
“I’m fine.”
“GoGo, let me see.”
She rolled the sleeve of her T-shirt up and I saw red. Her red arms, and my hot rage. I narrowed my eyes and nodded. “Right.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
“Yep. Okay, I’m gonna let you get back to work.”
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears again, and I stamped down my fury as I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close.
“You’re okay,” I assured her, and her body shook as she buried her face in my chest.
“I was so scared,” she whispered sliding her hands up my back, under my cut. “God, it’s so dumb.”
“Why’s it dumb?”
“Because he couldn’t do anything to me here.”
“Baby, hediddo something to you here, so you feeling scared is a perfectly acceptable response.”
She sighed, nodding. “Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
She took a deep breath and slid her hands down my back, releasing me but I took a little longer to do the same.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“About what?”
“I never cry. I mean, not about this kind of stuff. I cry at those stupid videos where dogs reunite with returning soldiers, or coffee commercials during Christmas, but not when I’m nervous or whatever.” She bit her lip. “I have to deal with difficult people and situations all the time. I don’t have the freedom to break down.”
“I get that.”
“This shouldn’t have bothered me.”
I smiled, reaching out to stroke her face. “Don’t ever be sorry for feelin’ shit, GoGo. Not with me.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her face against my hand, then nodded and stepped away. “Thanks for... well, everything. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked as she stepped to her door and pulled it open.
“I’m good.”
