“Yeah,” she says, dropping her hands, shoulders slumped. “Officer Stephen Foster had all the evidence, but I never filed anything. He said he’d keep the reports and photos in case I changed my mind. But he’s left the island. No one knows where he’s gone.”
“The threat of you filing kept Dalton in check.”
“I assume so, yes. We said our breakup was amicable, and we left each other alone.”
“He knows this police officer is off the island?”
“Yes.”
I try to catch her gaze because we’re still dancing around what actually happened. Something physical. My heart races to know, and my stomach churns atnotknowing.
“I’m going to believe you, doc. The idea that I might agree with him is as unlikely as a rocking horse taking a shit.”
That makes a tiny stutter of a laugh escape her, and her watery gaze meets mine again. A tear streaks down her cheek, and this intense desire to protect her at all costs explodes across my body.
“Tell me,” I say again, knowing I might want to commit murder.
“You have to promise you won’t go see him. And not a promise like the last time. A real promise. One you mean. I couldn’t take it if I told you this and it ruined your life too.”
The “too” part kills me. I nod because I don’t think I can get any words past the sudden lump in my throat.
“When I was with him, he was always… He was a boundary pusher. Once we were both tested and knew we were clean and healthy, he stopped wearing condoms. The one time I saidsomething, he said they made him enjoy sex less, and so he wasn’t wearing one when there was no reason. It seemed… reasonable enough, I guess. I didn’t have a good reason to insist since I was taking the pill. Or I didn’t feel like I did.”
“Okay.” I draw the word out while my brain ticks through all the birth control conversations we’ve had. For me, since I don’t want kids anytime soon, I never even brought up not wearing a condom. Dual protection works for me.
“He’d been hinting at kids and marriage. But he’d been married before—twice—and not had any kids. So, I don’t know. Whenever he brought it up, I sidestepped it, but when Dalton really wants something, he’s… He’ll do anything.”
My brain makes a leap, but it feels so unbelievable that it takes me a moment to say it out loud. “He fucked with your birth control?”
“Yes.” Her hands are back on my face holding my gaze. I don’t know what she sees, but I have no poker face, I’m sure. “Logan, you promised.”
“You figured it out?”
“Yes,” she whispers, still holding me in place. “And we got into a huge fight. I only remember it in snippets. But a lot of yelling. Then he pushed me, and I fell. I cracked the back of my head on something. A table? The arm of the chair? I’m not sure. When I came to, he was… He was frantic. Told me I’d tripped. At first I didn’t remember anything, but then enough of what happened snapped back into place. In the bathroom, I called Stephen, and I stayed locked in the bathroom until he got there. I didn’t unlock it until I heard Stephen’s voice.”
She’s still gripping my face, and I’m struggling to hold in my anger at what she’s telling me. “He put his hands on you.” My voice cracks.
“That was the worst instance.”
“It happened more than once?” I can’t keep the disbelief out of my voice.
“This time, I left, and I never went back. Cut him off. Cut him out. But I didn’t realize all the damage he’d done that no one else could see.”
Except Ididsee it. Maybe I didn’t understand it, but it was there. Her lack of confidence when she was clearly good at her job, her hesitation to get involved in the first place, her refusal to have her photo taken unless she knew and consented—all of it adds up now.
“Logan, you promised,” she says, and her voice is thick with tears. “You can’t break that promise. Because I don’t care what happens to me, but I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you because you thought you needed to defend me. You don’t. I’m okay. I’m okay now.”
She’s not. Not completely. In large part because he still has photos and videos he’s holding over her head. The hints he dropped about trying to force her back into a relationship once I’m off the island weigh heavy on my mind.
I take deep breaths, trying to get my raging protective mode back in line with what’s realistic. Going to his house and beating the shit out of him means he wins. My head knows that, even if my heart wants him to pay physically for laying even one finger on her.
“I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, but I don’t want you stuck there with me, okay?” she whispers.
“Wherever you are,” I say, my voice gruff, “that’s where I am. If you’re stuck, I’m fighting our way out right beside you. He’s not winning, doc. He’s not dragging you down again.”
“I don’t know how we win,” she says, her voice watery again. “If he releases what he has, I just look like I’m trying to deflect or cover up the truth.”
“Your leverage might be gone, but that just means we need to remove his too.”
