I nod slowly, pretending I’m really listening so he doesn’t stop.
“And I understand Noel snuck on your property and probably scared you. If you could have your dad drop the charges, I promise Noel won’t bother you again.”
I blink.
He stares, waiting. He knows it’s the worst time to ask for a favor. We both know, but I just needed to dull the shock. But the silence that follows his plea is what I feared: reality.
I crumble, falling to my knees and sobbing into my hands. The strength drains out of me all at once.
“Shit,” he says.
I sense his presence as he crouches next to me. The scent of his cologne fills my nostrils, and something about it is comforting. Warm. Familiar.
“Do you want me to get someone?” he asks.
I sob more, my body shaking harder.
“Okay, I’ll find someone.”
He rises but I snatch his forearm.
I don’t want him to go. I know that much. Alone feels impossible and Gabe could come back.
I look up at him through glassy eyes.
“Stay,” I say, breathless.
He glances around like he didn’t hear me correctly. “You wantmeto stay? I can call the cops? You know, to arrest him.”
“Oh no!” I snap. “This kind of scandal would ruin the church. If people found out our youth pastor attacked me, it would destroy the community’s trust.”
“Typical,” he grumbles.
“No police. Just stay with me,” I say louder.
His lips form a tight line, but his long legs stretch out as he sits beside me. I lean onto his shoulder, slowly at first, then press my face against his chest and cry again. His chest rises slow and solid beneath my cheek.
Low, he groans and mumbles, “Fuck me,” then pats my back like it pains him to show kindness. Like he doesn’t know where to put his hands.
It’s confusing. I can’t tell if he likes or despises me — If this is him showing compassion or restraining annoyance.
Either way, I stay. I let myself believe I’m safe in his arms. When the tears stop, he stands, pulling me to my feet.
I’m disoriented and even ashamed. I’m confused. I’m mad. I’m sad. I’m so many things it feels worse to narrow it to one.
Suddenly, he lifts my chin with his knuckle. His blue eyes sear into mine. It’s so paralyzing that the world stops spinning. His thumb drags across my cheek, rough at first, then slower, but he realizes too late what he’s doing.
“All better,” he mumbles, and drops his hand.
Something’s wet under my chin.
“Fuck,” he says. “I got blood on you.”
I gasp softly and take his hand. Two of his knuckles are split open from the fight and seep blood.
“Oh my goodness. You’re hurt!” I search for a first-aid kit. “I’ll get you a band-aid.”
He chuckles. “I’m fine. Come on. I’ll walk you to your car. It’s dark out.”
