“Strip naked and lie to a cop?” Tried for sarcasm. Fell flat. “Seemed like the best option at the time.”
Jaw tightened. Wrote again: You could have given me up.
“Yeah. I could have.”
Why didn’t you?
The question sat there between us. Simple. Direct. Impossible to answer with anything but truth.
“Because they would’ve taken you.” Quieter than intended. “And I don’t know what they’d do to you, but I know it wouldn’t be good. I know you’re terrified of going back. I know...”
I know I can’t survive failing someone else who needs me.
Couldn’t say that part. Swallowed it down.
“I chose to bring you inside.” Steadier. “That makes you my responsibility. I don’t give up on people I’m responsible for.”
Xavier studied my face with that predator’s focus again.
He wrote: The ex-boyfriend. Cop.
Not a question.
Stomach dropped. Right. I’d mentioned that. Another strategic info drop to make the detective uncomfortable, make him leave faster.
Except it wasn’t entirely a lie.
“Yeah. We dated for about a year. Didn’t end well.” Pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “He wanted me to quit volunteering at the free clinic. Said it was too dangerous, working in that neighborhood late at night. Said I was putting myself at risk for people who didn’t deserve it. Started to be controlling. And it got worse...”
A bitter laugh escaped.
“Told him the people who needed help most were exactly the ones everyone else walked past. He didn’t like that answer.”
Remembered the arguments. His frustration bleeding into control. The way he’d started showing up at the clinic unannounced, checking on me like I couldn’t take care of myself.
“When I wouldn’t quit, he started getting possessive.” Jaw tightened. “Tracked my phone. Called constantly when I workedlate. Accused me of, it doesn’t matter. I ended it. He didn’t take it well.”
Xavier’s pen moved across the page. Sharp, deliberate strokes.
What did he do?
The question sat there, but I suspected he would be relentless about it.
“Showed up at my apartment. Multiple times. Called from different numbers when I blocked his cell.” Kept my voice flat, matter-of-fact. “Waited outside the clinic in his patrol car. Made sure I saw him watching.”
Throat felt tight.
“Filed a harassment complaint with his supervisor after that. Haven’t seen him since, but...” Shrugged. “Guess he was right about one thing. The danger part. Just wrong about who I’d end up risking everything for.”
Xavier went completely still. That stillness that meant his mind was working.
Then his body changed. Tension flooded through his shoulders, locked his jaw, turned his fingers white-knuckled around the pen.
What was that?
Xavier’s pen moved across paper. Forceful strokes, letters carved darker than necessary, nearly tearing through the cheap notepad.
Do you want him dead?
