She almost choked on a breath. “You knew about it, didn’t you? You’ve known from the very beginning and pretended not to. Oh my god…did you think you were doing me a favor?”
His gaze didn’t waver, not even when the towel slipped because of her flaring arm. “I didn’t know. Not at first. My guess is that your parents spent a lot to keep it hush. With charges pressed and him having been locked up, those records are still public, but with the right lawyers and sealed filings, the case never made headlines.” His eyes stayed on hers. “Is that why you went on hiatus?” His voice was cautious, almost like he was stepping onto a minefield.
She searched his face for judgment.
There was none.
A heavy sigh left her. “I’m not surprised they did that. My family did something similar when I was first diagnosed with anxiety. They leaned on confidentiality laws, yes, but money was a guarantee. Doctors are bound by oath, sure, but when careers and reputations are at stake, silence can be bought.”
Her fingers curled. “Ever since that…stalker broke into my old apartment, I’ve struggled with people’s eyes on me. Their invasion of my privacy. My space. It’s one thing when it’s expected, but when it’s not, it feels like I’m drowning. Like I can’t breathe, can’t think. Just pure pressure.”
“Christ, Em.” His face sank in realization. “Did you feel like that today? I saw the paint aftermath on video. Everyone was watching and?—”
“I did,” she confirmed, making his body go still. He wasn’t breathing properly. “I felt like that even a minute ago…right before you knocked on that door.”
“Emily…”
“I went to therapy,” she continued, surprising herself by how easy talking to him about this was. “I’ve seen a lot of progress. Some moments I’m fine, back to normal and the next…I’m in my old living room…withhim. But this time he got the chance to do what he hadn’t before. He’d made use of the things he’d brought and bound my hands, covered my mouth. He’d pinned me down, forced my clothes off and?—”
Nicolas engulfed her into a hug.
She didn’t recoil. His scent was calming. And his body was warm against her cold skin, feeling like the safest place she could be. He held her tight, desperately, rubbing her back, not caring that her skin was still damp from the shower.
“It’s like my body remembers, even when my mind tries to forget,” she croaked, digging her face into his neck. “I hate that I can’t control it. I hate that I even have to try. I was doing so well, I—I really was…”
He drew her closer, his hand resting on her lower back. “I didn’t realize it was this bad,” he said softly. “I’d heard about your doctor visits from my PI, the possibility you weren’t well…I never meant to trigger anything. I should’ve called you and told you someone was coming to pick you up, not had you followed. That was thoughtless of me. The fact that I…god, Em, I don’t ever want you feeling like that again.”
“It’s not your fault.” She let out a hoarse laugh. “PTSD’sjust a bitch.”
“It is,” Nicolas agreed, but then his voice lowered to a gentle whisper. “But you’re stronger than it.”
A rush of heat spread through Emily’s chest, her breath catching, eyes stinging.
Nicolas pulled back, one hand tucking a loose strand ofhair behind her ear. “Most people wouldn’t have survived what you did. Give yourself some credit for it. And if all I can do is be here when that feeling hits, then I’ll be here. Every time. Helping you through it.”
At that moment, something unprecedented happened. Emily felt like maybe…just maybe she wasn’t alone in this anymore. At least for a year she wouldn’t be.
His thumb wiped at the corners of her eyes. “And that bastard won’t be able to do anything to you. You have so many people who care for you, Em. He’s being watched. He won’t harm you ever again.”
She nodded, making an effort to believe his words.
“Also, I didn’t make dinner because of all the chaos. I’m sorry. I’ll order us something if you don’t mind. Or I can have a chef come and prepare whatever you’d like.”
He was saying a lot ofsorrys, and now she was starting to feel bad. It also wasn’t like him to look so unsure of himself around her.
He’s feeling guilty.
“It’s okay. Ordering is fine,” she told him. “And I was thinking maybe once in a while we could, I don’t know, go eat out?”
“Growing tired of my cooking already?” he joked, but his eyes were still analyzing her face.
“No, of course not!” She said it so seriously he looked like he was fighting off a smile. Good. “It’s just that I’ve been meaning to get some fresh air. I’ve been going from home to work these days.”
She noticed the way his jaw tensed, then relaxed, as if he were biting back a thought. Emily knew what he was thinking, but she wasn’t going to let an unidentified harasser stop her from living her life.
“Okay, if that’s what you want. When do you want us to go?”
“I’ll call Chester’s and let them know they’ll be having us this weekend. I promise we can eat there without any leaks.”
