Page 131 of Off the Grid

“But your past, your experience, doesn’t factor into this at all. The only thing that does is that you told him no.”

She nods but keeps her eyes on the ceiling. The lone tear falls from the corner of her eye into her hairline. It’s fleeting but I see it and I dread hearing the next part.

“He shoved me onto the bed. Pinned me down. Told me that if I didn’t want sex, I wouldn’t dress like I did.” She pauses, and I keep rubbing her feet.

I feel helpless. Gutted. Sick to my stomach.

“I fought him. I tried. I screamed. I said no. The music was too loud? People don’t pay attention to screams in hotels? I don’t know, but no one came to help like I prayed that they would. He was far from gentle. He was so crass, telling me I was getting exactly what I deserved for dressing like the little slut I was. Mentally, I went somewhere else. Had to—”

I need to move. To walk. To abate my rage. But if I get up, if I let go of her feet, will she think my disgust is with her and not her rapist?

So I remain where I am with a jaw clenched so tight, I’m surprised my teeth don’t shatter.

“When it was over, when he was finished, he released my hands and I clawed at his face.” Her body tenses from the memory while I silently cheer. “The scratch I scored across his cheek earned me a backhand to mine. Then as he buttoned up his pants, he spit on me and told me what a lousy fuck I was. That I was no better than a cold-fish cunt. Then he left, telling me I better be out of his room when he came back and if I went to the cops, he had enough pictures of me all over him all night long. That he’d pull the lovers scorned card and no one would believe me.”

“Camilla.” Her name is all I can manage.

“I know.” She shifts in her seat, so she has no other option than to meet my gaze. “I know.” Shame swims in her eyes. “I was young. Dumb. Drunk. Alone in a hotel room with a guy. I knew how it looked.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I say softly.

“I know that now. I knew it then, but I was scared. My dad was . . .”

“He was what?”

“My dad was going through some health scares. Had just taken over running the business. I . . . the last thing I wanted to do was be a burden to him.”

“I see the way he looks at you, Camilla. You’re his world.”

“Exactly.” Her smile is sad. “If he knew . . . how would he have looked at me then? With shame? Embarrassment? Like I should have known better?” Emotion floods her voice.

She didn’t go to her parents. Not because they wouldn’t believe her, but because she didn’t want them to look at her differently. Because she didn’t want her father to look at her—his world—and see damage.

Christ.

Fucking Christ.

My skin feels like it’s tightened on my frame as I fight the fury coursing through me. As I struggle to keep the defeat out of my voice. As I try to figure out how to be the man she needs right now.

“There’s nothing I can say to make it better and as a man, that’s a hard pill to swallow. We’re supposed to fix things. We’re supposed to make them better. I can’t do any of those things for you, but I can tell you it wasn’t your fault. I can tell you I understand your reasoning, but I disagree with it. And I can tell you all of that is probably the wrong thing to say, but I don’t know what the right thing to say is.”

“There’s nothing to say. To fix.”

“You saw him today, though, right? He’s still part of F1? Of this community? I can fix shit real quick.” My smile is quick and cruel as she nods and worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

“And you’re not going to tell me who he is?”

“It won’t do anyone any good. I’ve moved on. You’ve helped me move on. Isn’t that enough?”

I grunt. That doesn’t mean the fucker isn’t or hasn’t done it to someone else though.

“It was hard enough living with myself most days. Walking away, changing my course . . . you have to understand that.”

She sits up, her feet dropping to the floor, and cups the sides of my face, her eyes holding mine. “You’re the only person I’ve ever told the whole story to, besides my therapist.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“I never intended for anyone else to know. I refuse to be the victim ever again. Me talking about it makes me that.”