“Yes. Julian stopped him…” I inhale another long breath. “But he went too far and now… Julian's in jail and Daniel's in the hospital and—"
"Breathe. Just breathe."
I gulp air. My chest hurts.
"Tell me everything. Slowly."
So I do. I tell her everything, forcing myself to slow down, to make my words coherent instead of the frantic jumble they want to be. I tell her about coming home from a shift, walking from my car in the dim parking garage beneath Julian’s building, keys in my hand. About the footsteps behind me that I'd tried to convince myself were nothing, just another tenant heading to their car.
I tell her about Daniel appearing out of nowhere, his hand clamping over my mouth before I could scream, his other arm like an iron band around my waist as he dragged me backward. About the handcuffs—actual handcuffs—that he'd snapped around my wrists , the metal biting into my skin. About his voice in my ear, calm and almost tender, telling me we were going to talk somewhere private, somewhere I couldn't run away from him again.
I tell her about Julian appearing like something out of a nightmare, his face transformed into something I'd never seen before—pure, unfiltered rage. About the sickening sounds of fists connecting with flesh and bone. About Daniel crumpling to the concrete, blood pooling dark and terrible beneath his head. About Julian's knuckles split and bleeding, his chest heaving, his eyes wild and unseeing until I'd finally screamed his name loud enough to break through whatever dark place he'd gone to.
My voice shakes through all of it, breaking on certain words—but I get it all out.
When I finish, there's only silence.
"Jenna?"
"I'm here. I'm just—Jesus, Liza."
"I ruined his life."
"No. Absolutely not, Jenna. Listen to me," she says, her voice firm but gentle, that particular tone she uses when she's trying to reach through my anxiety and pull me back to reality. "That man—Daniel—he made his choices. He put his hands on you. Hehandcuffedyou. He tried to take you somewhere against your will. Do you understand what that means? What he was planning to do?"
I squeeze my eyes shut, hot tears leaking from the corners. "I know, but—"
"No buts. Julian defended you. He protected you. That's not ruining his life, Liza. That's what someone who loves you does when they see you in danger."
Her words wash over me like cool water, and I feel something in my chest start to loosen, just a little. My breathing is still ragged, but it's not quite as desperate as it was a moment ago.
"I just keep seeing Daniel's head slamming against that pillar”, I whisper. "All that blood."
"I know, sweetie. I know it was traumatic. But that blood is on Daniel's hands, not yours. Not Julian's. Daniel created that situation. He's been terrorizing you for weeks… months. This was bound to explode eventually."
I take a shaky breath, letting her words sink into me, trying to absorb their truth even as my mind rebels against them. What would I do without my best friend—without this woman who always knows exactly what to say, who can pull me back from the edge when I'm spiraling into darkness?
I close my eyes, and thank the heavens for her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The phone jolts me awake at 9:47 AM. I'm still on the couch, fully dressed. My neck screams from the angle I slept at—if you can call three hours of fitful unconsciousness sleep.
I blink at the glowing screen through crusted eyes, and Mark's name stares back at me in bold letters, the brightness making me wince.
"Hello?"
My voice is gravel.
"It's Mark. You sitting down?"
I grip the arm of the couch. "What happened?"
"They're keeping him. Bail hearing won't be for at least a week. Maybe longer."
The room tilts.
"A week? He has to stay in there for a week?"
