Page 28 of Finding Gwen

Internally groaning, I knew it was time to leave the comfort of the bathroom when my lower back was aching from sitting on the ground. Plus, I did not want to have the conversation we needed to have in a hospital bathroom. “Let’s get you off this floor and then we’ll figure out what to do next, okay?” I offered. I felt her move her head against my shoulder but couldn’t tell if it was a yes or no. “Gwen, you’re going to have to use your words.” I swear I heard a faint chuckle, and it gave me hope for what was about to come.

“Yes, please,” she responds. Shifting us both so she was no longer in my lap, I stood up before grasping her hands and helping her to do the same. I caught her eyes and held her gaze, not wanting to let go for fear something would happen. It was irrational, but I didn’t care.

“Let’s go sit,” I said. Not waiting for a response, I opened the bathroom door and scooped Gwendalyn into my arms, bridal style.

“Anthony,” she started, wiggling in my arms, but I held her firmly against my chest. “Put me down. I can walk.”

“You can, but you won’t,” I said, looking down at her. “Let me do this.” She smiled, easily giving in and resting her head on my chest. When we reached the bed, she shifted, expecting me to put her down. Instead, I situated myself on the bed and settled her across my lap. Gwendalyn relaxed instantly into my arms, her fingers running along the fabric of my shirt. I ran my hand along her leg, gently resting my head on hers. I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths, slipping into detective mode as I made sure my own emotions were under lock and key. She didn’t need any of my feelings clouding her own. This moment was about her, and she needed to know that.

“Luce mia, I need to know what happened last night,” I whispered, feeling her stiffen against me. Her hand dropped to her lap, and she turned her face, pressing into my chest. “I don’t want to push you or force you to do something that makes you uncomfortable, but it’s important to me that you know your options.” I paused, waiting for a response, but none came. Her breathing was still even, no signs of crying, so I gave her time to think. She needed to sort things out. The mind was a powerful thing and when it wanted to protect itself, it would fight to keep things buried.

She pulled away from me and I let the arm wrapped around her back slide to her front, my hand finding one of hers. The pressure that had built up in my chest slowly lessened, making it easier to breathe. I ran my thumb over her knuckles, cherishing the feeling of her skin under mine. It had always been soft compared to mine, calloused and rough.

“I met Carol at the bar,” she whispered, “and everything was going great until she got a call and had to leave.” She paused, her shoulders tensing. “I should have left, but I was upset at you. I didn’t want to go back to the house and have to deal with all of that.”

“Gwendalyn, I—” I started to apologize.

“No, let me say all this.” She cut me off. “If you interrupt, I won’t be able to get it all out.”

I nodded my head, watching as her attention drifted down to our hands. Whenever she was nervous or anxious, she would pick at her cuticles, usually until they bled. I hated seeing her hurt herself, even something so minor as that. But it was a coping mechanism, and I understood that. Instead of releasing her, I grasped her other hand, swiping my thumb along her skin until she took a deep breath and continued.

“Some guy started flirting with me at the bar. I thought it was harmless, and I had been pissed about what you said, so I didn’t think much of it and decided to have a little fun. He offered to buy me a drink, but I had just ordered a shot from the bartender and he handed it to me. Maybe it was my fault for not paying closer attention to what was happening…” She trailed off and I squeezed her hands.

“I got really nauseous, and I assumed the shot wasn’t sitting right or I had too much to drink. The guy was crowding me, though, and I needed air. So I may have kneed him in his balls so he would back up.”

I swallowed my ill timed chuckle, but damn was I proud of her.

“The little details after that are hazy. I made it outside and found my car, but I knew I shouldn’t drive so I had my phone out debating on if I should call you when I was shoved up against my car. I struggled to scream, but my voice just wouldn’t seem to work.” She hesitated, and I tightened my grip, trying to silently communicate my presence. “When I tried to get away, they threw me to the ground. I wanted to fight, to do something, anything, but I couldn’t.” Tears brimmed her eyes as she forced slow breaths into her lungs, her shoulders tensing.

“He forced his fingers down my pants. It felt like someone was shoving sandpaper into me. He said… He said I liked it. That my body wanted it rough. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t tell him to stop. I just wanted him to stop…” Tears streaked her face. Her chest was frantically rising, and I quickly began taking deep, steady breaths. Slowly, she mirrored my movements and forced firm breaths into her lungs. Her fingers clawed at my palms. I wasn’t even sure if she knew she was doing it, but I made no move to stop her.

“Gwendalyn, you don’t have to continue,” I reassured her, telling myself it was for her benefit. Selfishly, I wanted her to stop. The thought of another man defiling her, using her for his own pleasure, had oscurità mia ripping at every lock and key I had thrown at it, and it was terrifyingly close to breaking out.

I would find him. I would kill him.

“Would it help if I called my partner? He can get your statement and then we can talk about what happens after together,” I gently offered.

Gwendalyn looked up, catching my eyes. A single tear fell down her cheek as she muttered, “What would happen to Oliver?”

My brows stitched together. “What do you mean?” I asked, confused by her question.

“If something happens to me, would Ollie be okay?” she whispered, breaking eye contact and staring at our connected hands.

“Luce mia…” I trailed off, realization settling in my veins. Even when going through what could only be described as the worst night of her life, it seemed Oliver and I had been the ones on the forefront of her mind.

“He has already been through so much,” she continued, oblivious to the wheels turning in my mind. “There’s no way he would understand. That little boy means the world to me. If something had happened to me, he wouldn’t know how much I loved him. He filled a piece of my heart I didn’t know I was missing.”

My hands were no longer holding hers. Instead, they were intertwined in her hair, pulling myself up to claim her lips. She relaxed into me, her body giving up, and I couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride at how safe she felt with me. Her tears mixed into our kiss, the saltiness giving me a renewed sense of freedom. Wait, fuck! I can’t be doing this. I pulled away too fast, her hands flying up to my chest at the same time my hands went to her shoulders to help steady her.

“Gwen, I am so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. That was…” She shut me up by crashing her lips to mine, her fingers weaving through my hair and tugging. Cupping her face, I pulled her against me and groaned into her mouth. Our bodies pressed against each other, a heat rising between us as I felt myself pressing into her leg.

She broke our kiss and leaned back, her eyes shining with unshed tears. A smile threatened her lips, and I swore I saw a halo of light around the woman. We stayed like that until a knock on the door had me scrambling to get off the bed like I was a teenager, about to be caught by my mom.

“Mr. and Mrs. Marino? Everything okay in there?” The peppy nurse popped her head into the door just as I was getting Gwendalyn settled into the bed. Hopefully, it looked like we had just made it back from the bathroom.

Letting the nurse do whatever she needed, I excused myself to the hallway to give Jason a call and check on Oliver.

He got to the hospital faster than I thought he would, which meant he probably sped from his house. Jason pulled me in for a hug when he saw me, something I wasn’t expecting but was grateful for, nonetheless. We interviewed survivors multiple times a day, but it never got easier, let alone when it was someone you know. There was no one else I trusted enough to do this. When he stepped through the door, he became Detective Kregler, asking all the right questions.

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