Page 50 of I Still Love You

I’m just not into it tonight. I can’t pull myself from the swooshing thoughts that come and go. Today could’ve ended a lot worse. It could’ve—

The toaster pops, and I grab the butter from the fridge to slather it on. I move over to the couch, hoping that something to eat and reality television will pull me out of this funk, out of my lonely thoughts and reflections.

Nibbling on the toast, obviously hungrier than I thought I was after my appetite faded when Andrew lunged at me and dragged me into the privacy of the alcove hours ago, I focus on the screen in front of me, trying to figure out what it is I want to watch. Minutes pass, and I’m still clicking through the menu, insistent on finding reruns of a show I’ve already watched. But nothing is on, and it makes my mind snap back to the day. Like the barrel of a gun against my temple, the thoughts press into me one after another.

Andrew and his invasive hands. The onslaught of his assault. The calmness of the moment just before he yanked my arm, covered my mouth and dragged me behind that wall. The putrid stench of his breath and the heat of his hands as they touched my body, gliding up and down my side, how his fingers raked through my hair roughly. And Luke, coming to the rescue.

When I screamed for help, it didn’t matter who it was, just as long as it was someone. Luke reacted so damn fast, flying at Andrew quicker than a lion protecting its meal, and it only intensified the notion of being assau—

A knock sounds at the door. My heart beats wildly from the sudden sound. Just like it did hours ago, and I have the faintest thought that Andrew is on the other side, though I know it’s impossible because of the extent of his injuries. When two trauma doctors wheeled him out of the alcove, I saw the blood, the destruction Luke’s hands caused. I rub my fingers together to brush the crumbs from the toast free and tiptoe my way over to the front of the house. I peek out the tiny curtain covering the window on the door.

Luke faces the road, and I chastise myself for thinking it could’ve been Andrew at all. The door creaks when I pull it open, and I try my best to keep it together when all I want is to forge forward, jump in his arms, and hide my face in the crook of his neck.

The last time I saw him, hospital security lugged him down the hall. He stopped once to tell me to go back to his booth to grab his phone and call Jett and Mason. Once the police interviewed me, I flew back to the clinic for my belongings. But when Jett arrived, he wrapped me in a hug and told me everything was going to be fine. He’ll never know how much I appreciated that, how much it meant to hear that soothing promise when I was scared.

Luke’s muscled back tenses when he hears the door, and he turns on his foot. He’s been through a hell of a day. We both have, and it’s clear in his slumped shoulders and swept back hair. His beautiful green eyes aren’t as bright as they were yesterday when he was standing next to me in my booth.

His presence tugs at my heart, making me want to move in his direction, to wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze him. I push the screen door open and invite him in. He’s quick to take it and pushes through the threshold without a word.

Whatever he came here for, whatever he’s about to say, I want it all for myself. I need it, so I close the front door and twist the lock out of self-preservation, not caring if he notices or not. My voice, barely above a whisper as I lean back against the door, gets caught in my throat. “What…what are you doing here?”

He scans the living room, the empty plate on the couch, and the television playing, then shoves his hands in his pockets. With one quick glance up and down my body, he shifts on his feet, whispering, “Are you okay?” A pained expression settles into his features, and he looks away, completely devastated. My heart pinches. “Did he…?”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. When I texted Britney about what happened, I only shared the most important part, that some jerk at work tried having his way with me, and someone intervened before it could happen. The cops are the only ones I’ve recited each word and movement to, and I—

“Layla?” Luke takes a daring step closer, though there are still a few feet separating us. “I might seem composed on the outside, but in here,” he taps his head, “I’m spinning out of control because I can’t get the image out of my head of…”

Andrew holding me against the wall? Andrew’s hands on me? Of what would’ve happened if you didn’t show up when you had?

It’s all on the tip of my tongue, but I’m desperate for my words to sound strong. “I’m okay, Luke,” I promise, though my quivering voice reveals that I’m hanging on by a tiny thread. If Andrew would’ve had a moment more with me, I would’ve been forced into the men’s bathroom, and nothing good would have come after. It’s the part I keep getting hung up on. The part that draws this intense and overwhelming emotion from my chest and has my voice breaking. “What about you? What did the cops say?”

His tongue wets his bottom lip. It’s not lost on me how, even under the intensity of the day, his handsome features draw me in. The years we’ve been apart have only strengthened his best features, and I use it to distract myself from a breakdown. “I’ll have to go to court.”

I press off the door. “What? You saved me from a man sexually assaulting me.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “And I assaulted him. They won’t let me get away with it, especially not when I put him in the E.R.”

I shake my head and blink away the images of what Andrew looked like, up against the wall with his body drooping from the magnitude of Luke’s hits. I saw the immediate swelling and bruising. The crimson red. “You shouldn’t have stepped in.”

“It’ll be fine,” he assures, but it does nothing to quell the panic looming. “It’s my first offense. They never go hard on first-time offenders. Everyone knows that.”

Hearing that makes me break. The stressors from the day burst through and weigh me down, and I lash out. I dash toward Luke, shoving at him, my voice growing louder. “Why didn’t you just stay out of it?” I shove him again, and this time he stumbles back a foot and pulls his hands from his pockets. “Why didn’t you listen to me when I told you to stop? This could’ve been avoided if you had listened!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do? Let that piece of shit keep his hands on you? Yeah, fucking right. He should’ve known better, Layla.”

I twist around, pace the other direction, and flatten my palms over the wetness on my cheeks, the sadness behind my eyes releasing. “You were supposed to stop!” Not only do I have to deal with the guilt of leaving him, but now there’s this. “You’re going to lose everything you’ve worked so hard for, and for what?” It comes out in a sob. “Me?”

Another thing for him to hate me over.

He steps forward, gripping my arms gently. Leaning down into my line of sight, his eyes connect with mine. “I won’t lose anything. I told you they’ll take it easy on me. I would do it over again, you know. If it were you, if it were someone else, I still would’ve acted.”

I yank my arms free and back away. “You don’t know what they’re going to say until you’re there. You don’t know what’ll happen.”

“And neither do you,” he says back, narrowing his eyes. It’s like he can see right through my pent-up emotion. Into the deepest recesses of my mind and soul. “What did he do to you? I hope to hell you told the cops everything.”

“Fuck you, Luke,” I spit, spinning out once again. I’m being ridiculous, but it’s better than letting go of everything that’s piling up. I turn toward the couch, so I can reach the remote and turn the television off. I need to crawl under my comforter and go to sleep, but Luke reaches forward and grabs my waist. He hauls me back and holds my back still against his chest. His warmth blankets me in the most comforting way, in a way that causes my eyes to drift shut and an exhale to leave me slowly. This is what I was missing earlier. When the loneliness was too much, all I wanted was this. Someone to hold me.

“Tell me…” he whispers softly, his arms holding me in a way I haven’t been held in years. “What happened?” His voice is as soothing as the soft trickle of rain down a windowpane. As comforting as an embrace after a long day. “Let me be here for you in the way I wasn’t before.”

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