Her expression softens. "But you didn't. You got there in time. I'm fine."
"You shouldn't have been in that situation at all."
"I know. I made bad choices tonight. Trusted the wrong person. Stayed at a party I should've left." She shrugs, but there's pain in her eyes. "Not exactly my finest moment."
"That's not what I meant. You didn't do anything wrong. He did. He's the piece of shit who couldn't take no for an answer."
"I know that too. Doesn't make me feel less stupid for not seeing it coming."
"You can't always see it coming. That's what makes guys like him dangerous. They're nice until they're not." I run a hand through my damp hair. "But you did the right thing. You got away. You called for help. You survived."
"Because of you."
"You would've figured it out even without me."
"Maybe. But I'm glad I didn't have to." She tilts her head. "Can I ask you something?"
"Depends on the question."
"Why'd you sound so scared when you answered the phone? Your voice was different. I've never heard you like that."
Scared doesn't begin to cover it. Terrified. Panicked. Ready to tear apart anyone who hurt her with my bare hands.
"Because someone I care about was in danger," I confess. "That tends to inspire fear."
"Someone you care about," she repeats. "That's a nice way to say 'Colt's annoying friend who calls at inappropriate hours.'"
"That's not how I see you."
"No? How do you see me then?"
Dangerous question. Minefield question. Question I absolutely cannot answer honestly.
"As someone worth protecting," I say instead. "As someone important."
"To Colt."
"To me."
I shouldn't have said that. Should've deflected. Should've kept things light and friendly and appropriate. But I'm tired of lying. Tired of pretending she doesn't matter. Even if I can't tell her the whole truth, I can at least give her this much.
Her eyes widen slightly. "Really?"
"Really. You think I'd drive like a maniac and punch out strangers for just anyone?"
"I think you're the kind of man who'd do that for anyone who needed help."
She's not wrong. But she's not entirely right either.
"Maybe," I concede. "But it hits different when it's you."
She bites her lip, and I have to look away before I do something stupid.
"Can I ask you something else?" she asks.
"You're full of questions tonight."
"Humor me. I'm traumatized and vulnerable."
