“Here. These will be too big, but they’re soft and stretchy.” He hands me a navy-blue sweatsuit.
“Thank you,” I say, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I close the door and strip out of the dress. The sweats swallow me whole, but the soft fabric is soothing.
When I’m clothed again, I step out to find Noah waiting. He leans casually against the wall, but his expression is strained.
“I have water and paracetamol in the living room.”
He doesn’t say anything else, letting me be the one to decide where I want to go, what I want to do.
I amble down the hall, not speaking until I’m nestled securely in the corner of his big, cushy couch. True to form, the first words out of my mouth are an apology. “I’m sorry about that.” I lick my lips and keep my head down.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he says. “But I do. I should never have taken you into that nest of vipers.”
His hands are balled together, his knuckles turning white as he squeezes. “Will you tell me what happened?”
Fatigue and alcohol swamp me at once, and I don’t have the energy to keep my secrets. I don’t want to. Because they’re killing me.
So, I tell him everything. Starting with Luci and André disappearing from our hiding place in the catacombs, and me trying to find my way out. The door with the symbol.
And Ric with his date, engaged in foreplay.
I don’t tell him how Ric put his hands on me. That he might have done far worse if I hadn’t fought back.
A vein already pulses in Noah’s temple, so I minimize what happened. “Ric grabbed my arm, and he invited me to join him and the woman he brought tonight.” I glance aside. “If you know what I mean.”
“That asshole.” Nostrils flaring, Noah grinds the heels of his hands together.
“Yes. He is an asshole, but . . .” I pause, hesitant to say any more. Afraid to let go of the biggest secret. The one I’ve held inside for three years.
Only two other people know what happened.
Only Mackenzie.
Andhim.
“Tonight isn’t the first time Ric’s touched me,” I begin, “and what he did tonight was awful.” I double-swallow. “But what he said was worse.”
Noah waits in silence, his eyes never leaving mine.
“He mentioned a friend of mine,” I say. “Her name is Mackenzie.”
Noah doesn’t nod or speak or even move, but the shift in his eyes tells me he’s heard her name before.
“So you know she’s part of what’s happening in LA.”
He lifts a shoulder, explaining with a single word. “Yahoo.”
The last image I have of Mackenzie appears in my mind. It hits me like a blow, a one-two punch of guilt and pain. My eyes burn and tears start again.
I picture one of the savage headlines. “She isn’t lying. She’s telling the truth.” I put a hand to my stomach where nausea coils.
“And I should know.”
34
Grief and regret are a flood, pouring out of me as I confide in Noah. “I knew what he was like. The producer.” I take the box of tissues Noah offers. “I met him a few years ago, at a party.”
