Page 19 of All Your Pucking Secrets

I nod to him but don’t stop. I need to set eyes on Echo again, just so I know she’s okay. It’s obvious she wasn’t expecting to see me here.

The instant I enter the hall, I stop abruptly. Echo is here, all right, but she isn’t okay. A guy twice her size is towering over her, with one of his hands on her hip while the other rests against the wall, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. She’s cringing away from him, making herself as small as she possibly can.

I see red.

Why the hell does that asshole think it’s acceptable for him to put his hands on her?

She’s obviously freaking the fuck out. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she sucks in breaths, as if she can’t get enough oxygen, and her eyes are squeezed shut.

I storm up the hall, grab his hand, and tear it off her. I shove him. He stumbles back, opening up more space between him and Echo. She drops to the floor, her arms covering her head as she curls into a ball.

“What the hell?” he shouts, too loud for the confined space.

I get up in his face and shove him again. “She clearly didn’t want you anywhere near her,” I snap. “If you touch her again, I’ll rip your fucking arm off and club you with it.”

He holds his hands out, palms toward me defensively. “Is she your girlfriend or something?”

I stare at him, hoping he can read the scorn in my expression. “No, but does that even fucking matter? You were scaring her. That’s unacceptable.”

His eyebrows furrow in a way that tells me he doesn’t get it. “She’s all yours. Too much drama anyway.”

He pushes past me and stalks away, muttering under his breath. I kneel in front of Echo. She’s rocking back and forth, clasping her head. I shift position, trying to put myself in her line of sight, but her eyes are glazed and unseeing.

“Echo,” I say hesitantly. “Baby, you’re safe.”

My gut twists. It feels like barbed wire is tangled in there, drawing tighter with every passing second.

I’ve never seen her like this.

Even when things got bad for her at school—as they inevitably did after she made a serious accusation against one of the undisputed kings of the senior class that ended with him in prison—she’d never shut down so completely. At least, not that I’d seen.

She whimpers, and helplessness swamps me. What am I supposed to do? How do I help her fight something that lives inside her mind?

Shit, how much have I missed over the past three years?

I thought I’d been keeping a good eye on her. I believed I knew what I was dealing with, but this… I’m not prepared for this.

Her eyes snap to mine. “Go away.”

Even having her pissed off at me is a relief, because at least in this moment, she’s mentally present.

“I can’t leave you,” I tell her. “Not like this.”

Trembles wrack her body.

“We need to warm you up.” I try one of the bedroom doors, but it’s locked. The one next to it is open. “Come on.”

When she doesn’t move, I wrap my arm around her. She flinches and buries her face in her knees. I let go, horrified by her reaction to my touch.

“Let me get you warm,” I say. “Please, baby.”

This time, she allows me to guide her to the bedroom. She lowers herself onto the bed. I lift the end of the bedspread and fold it over her. She’s not looking at me again, and her breathing is still too fast.

“Breathe with me,” I urge. “In.” I draw in a deep breath, counting to four before releasing it. “And out.” Inhale. “In.” Exhale. “Out.”

At first, she can hardly hold air in her lungs, but after several breaths, the pressure seems to ease, and she mimics my breathing pattern more easily. She’s still despondent, and self-loathing curdles inside me. I’m partly to blame for why she’s like this. I wish I could fool myself into believing otherwise, but that would be a lie.

She loved me, and I helped to break her.

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