“Maya. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
“Can’t—can’t breathe?—”
“Yes, you can. In through your nose, out through your mouth. With me, come on.” I demonstrate, slowly and exaggeratedly. “In. Out. In. Out.”
She’s shaking her head, hands pressed to her chest like she’s trying to hold her heart inside.
The restaurant door opens. Emma and Chase come out with Ethan and bags of dessert, laughing about something.
They stop dead when they see us.
“What happened?” Emma’s voice is sharp, cutting through the air. Then she sees my bloody knuckles. “Jackson, what did you do?”
“Tyler happened,” I say without looking away from Maya. “Take Ethan to the car. Give us a minute.”
“Is she okay?”
“Emma. Car. Now.”
She goes, Chase, following with a backward glance that promises questions later.
Maya’s breathing is slowing, still shaking, but not hyperventilating anymore. The tears haven’t stopped, though, tracking down her face in the glow of the streetlights.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I froze. Just froze like a fucking coward.”
“That’s not cowardice. That’s trauma.” I keep my voice steady, gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Her eyes meet mine, and I see it: the raw terror, the shame, the exhaustion of trying to hold herself together for so long.
“He cornered me, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight, just like—” She cuts herself off, the words dying in her throat.
Just like whoever raped her.
I know from the journal, know that she froze then too, know she blames herself for not fighting back.
“Come on.” I stand slowly, carefully. “Let’s get you home.”
She doesn’t argue; she lets me help her up without touching more than necessary, just my hand hovering near her elbow in case she needs support. We walk to the car in silence, Maya’s arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold her pieces together.
Emma and Chase don’t ask questions on the drive home. Ethan’s already asleep in his car seat. Maya stares out the window, and I can see her reflection in the glass, see the way she’s still shaking.
Back at the house, she disappears upstairs before anyone can say anything.
“What happened?” Emma asks immediately, her voice tight with worry. “And why are your knuckles bleeding?”
“Tyler had her trapped against the wall. She was telling him to let go, and he wouldn’t.”
“So you hit him?” Emma’s eyes are wide.
“Yeah.”
“Good,” she says fiercely.
Chase sets the dessert bags on the counter, his jaw tight. "Is she going to be okay?"
