“Not soon enough.” And he’d never forgive himself for it. Tightening his arms around her, he repeated, “Not soon enough. I’m sorry, Vanessa, he should’ve never gotten this far.”
She untucked her hand from between them and wrapped both palms around the nape of his neck, enveloping him in a hug that pressed their bodies even tighter together. “Thank you.”
They stayed like that, on the cold kitchen floor, for what seemed like an eternity. Only when the tension drained from her body did he gently scoop her into his arms, cradling her to his chest as he carried her to her bedroom.
“Do you want to be tucked in? Have a shower or eat? You tell me, and I’ll make it happen, baby.”
She slid to her feet as he put her down, and she took in her room as if she was only now coming back to reality.
“I’m cold. I think I want a shower.” She shivered. “And a tea.”
He nodded, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer. He was finding it more and more impossible to take his sights off of her. “You go shower. I’ll make tea.”
Once she was in the bathroom, he stood outside the door until he heard the water running, then he went back to the kitchen.
Where did she keep the tea? He surveyed the neat countertops, noticing the high-end coffee machine.
That was more his speed. A coffee guy, plain and simple. A basic coffeepot and the same beans every time. He didn’t do decaf, blonde roast, or the vanilla shit. Just straight-up black coffee.
The only time he’d had a cup of tea was when Ivy’s nana visited. She insisted on brewing it in a fancy teapot and used real cream, and because she was the closest thing to a grandmother he’d ever had, he drank whatever she gave him with a smile on his face.
He opened cupboards until he found tea. Five boxes.Hell.
He lined them up on the counter and stared at them. Orange pekoe, green, chai, rose hibiscus, and peppermint. Which fucking one was he supposed to make? And what the actual fuck was hibiscus?
Might as well boil water while he figured it out. Taking the kettle from the stove, he filled it and set it over the highest temperature, then he pulled out his phone and looked up the different teas.
Definitely not orange pekoe. That was caffeinated, and his girl needed rest. Same went for the green and chai. The rose hibiscus was some loose-leaf shit, plus he still wasn’t sure what hibiscus was so he wasn’t touching that, which left the peppermint. Google told him peppermint was soothing for the stomach, so he took out a bag and put it in a big mug he found in the cupboard.
While he waited for the water to boil, he called Dex for an update. After Vanessa ran inside, he’d called the cops and Dex. They’d taken a subdued Robertson to the station, promising to get the officer who was assigned to Vanessa’s case involved ASAP.
The police were holding Robertson overnight, but he’d likely make bail by morning. Dex reassured Jordan that he’d make sure the producer left Portland as quickly as he came. This time with a clear message to leave Vanessa alone forever, or pay for it on Jordan’s less legal terms.
The bathroom door opened as he poured water over the bag.
He carried the steaming mug to her bedroom and found her sitting on the edge of her bed, in a fluffy robe and damp hair hanging around her shoulders. A faint smile ghosted her lips when she saw him in the doorway.
Vanessa always looked beautiful. From the day he’d laid eyes on her, he could admit she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But sitting there, stripped of makeup, without carefully styled hair or pretty clothes, she looked exquisite, but also innocent and young. He clenched his jaw. The thirteen-year age gap between them had never been more obvious.
“Peppermint,” he said, hoisting the tea like an offering.
“That’s perfect, thank you.” She gestured for him to set it on the nightstand beside the bed.
“Feel better?”
She still looked tired around the eyes, emotionally and physically drained, but she nodded. “I feel I should explain.” Her gaze flitted from his to the floor.
“No need. Anyone would’ve reacted after an asshole like that?—”
“It wasn’t Kurt,” she said. “I mean, yes, it was Kurt. He’s a total asshole, but it wasn’t just him.” Head hanging low, she curled her toes nervously into the rug beside her bed.
“Vanessa, you don’t have to talk about any of this if you don’t want to.”
She shook her head. “When I was nineteen, I moved in with my first real boyfriend. His name was Noah.”
Somehow, Jordan already hated Noah, and she’d only uttered his name. He clenched his jaw as he listened.
“He was a model too. We had a lot of fun together, traveling to destination shoots. He was—” She faltered, then lifted her gaze to his. “He was my first.”
