“Did he touch you?” The question comes out sharper than I intended.
Shit.
I shouldn’t have asked that.
Too direct.
Too demanding.
But I need to know.
If he touched her, I’ll kill him.
Her shoulders go rigid and then she shakes her head. “No.” She pauses for a beat and then finally turns her head to look me in the eye. “He didn’t touch me.”
But he hurt you.
Why won’t you tell me?
Why don’t you trust me?
What did he tell you?
I want to follow her. I want to give her space. I want toshake the truth out of her, beg her to talk to me. I want to hold her until she stops trembling and show her that she’s safe with me. I want to love her the way she deserves to be loved.
But I can’t do any of those things.
I have to allow her to be in control, to work through whatever it is that’s hurting her.
“Okay,” I nod, knowing I have no choice but to accept whatever she gives me even though her unwillingness to talk to me is ripping my heart wide open from the inside out and it hurts like a fucking bitch. I hate myself right now for not knowing what she needs. “I’m here, though…if you need me.”
“Good night, Shepherd.” She steps out of the car and then she’s gone. And just like that the space beside me feels empty in a way it hasn’t since she moved in.
I stay in the car until I see her step inside the guest house and close the door behind her. Once I finally make it to my front door, I pull my phone from my pocket and send a mayday to the guys I know will always have my back.
Me
I need help.
My phone buzzes almost immediately.
Kill
What happened?
Me
It’s Sutton.
Kill
Is she okay? Are you okay?
Me
She ran into Brannigan at the stadium. I think something happened.
Seb
