Page 44 of Guarded from Sabotage

“Maybe not. But I was luckier than most.”

Rage is beating at me. I want to track that piece of shit down and show him what I think of men who attack women. But anger isn’t going to help Sarah, so swallow it down and keep my tone gentle as I ask, “Did he get in trouble?”

Her gaze dips to the table. “Not for a while. At first, I didn’t want to tell anyone. I didn’t want them to know how stupid I was. Wandering around a party by myself, not taking someone to the bathroom with me…”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. Now I do. Back then… I was so young.” She looks back up at me. “So I didn’t say anything for a few months. But it kept eating at me, so I finally went to the counseling center on campus. I thought… maybe I should report him. So I talked to this incredible social worker, and she got me into counseling and helped me go to the police, and I did end up pressing charges against him.”

Shit. I’m imagining nineteen-year-old Sarah, so scared, but bravely facing her attacker as she tries to do the right thing.

A wave of protectiveness crashes into me, more powerful than any before. Without thinking, I wrap an arm around Sarah, cuddling her against me. Then I freeze.Shit.She’s telling me about a traumatic experience, and maybe she doesn’t want me touching her like this?—

But she leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Dante.I’mokay.” After a brief pause, she adds, “Because Chris had been there, it wasn’t a he-said-she-said situation, like a lot of cases. With a witness, the charges stuck. Which makes me mad every time I think about it. Not for me, but for all the women who are speaking on their own. The women who don’t have someone to back them.”

Sarah lifts her chin as she says, “So the jerk got probation, which isn’t really enough, but it was something. And he left campus at the end of that year. I’m not sure why, but I was just glad he was gone.”

“Sarah.” It’s low. Rough. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”

“I’m not.” When I jerk my head back in surprise, she explains, “The experience was terrible, yes. But meeting that social worker… it gave me a career I love. And eventually, I was able to stop a predator. Get him away from the women on campus. I just wish…”

“What, beautiful?”

Regret tightens her features. “If I’d said something sooner instead of waiting for months… What if he assaulted another woman and I could have stopped it? That’s the part I can’t forget. The guilt that sticks with me.”

“Sarah.” I gently kiss her forehead. “You’re not responsible for anything he did. His actions are onhim, not you.”

“I know that. Logically, I do. But sometimes… it’s hard not to feel guilty.”

I hate that she blames herself for something that so obviously wasn’t her fault. But I understand how sticky guilt can be, and how hard it is to get free of it. Which is why I find myself sharing something I’ve never spoken about before.

“It’s not your fault,” I tell her firmly. “But I understand how guilt can be tricky. Even when we know it’s not our fault, the thoughts still sneak in.”

Sarah tilts her head as she meets my gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I haven’t. But with you, I do. I want you to know.” I stop to brush her hair behind her ear, giving myself a moment to prepare. “It was July of last year. We were on a mission overseas—it was just me and my split team, so there were six of us. We’d gotten some intel about a target and tracked him to an abandoned building. But?—”

The memory comes roaring back, as violent and terrible as it was that day.

“It’s okay, Dante.” Sarah’s soft voice soothes me. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.” Threading my fingers between hers, I concentrate on her satiny skin and how her hand feels so perfect in mine. “The building was rigged with explosives, but by the time we discovered it, we were trapped. Our HAZMAT guy, Jeff, thought he could disarm one of the bombs to get us out. Our captain—Nolan, who you met—wanted to figure out a different way.”

As I trace the lines of her delicate fingers, I continue, “Jeff insisted. So we let him. And really, there may not have been another option. But… the bomb went off. Jeff… I tried, but he was too badly hurt. I couldn’t save him.”

“Dante…”

“Another teammate, Tyler, lost part of his leg. Erik suffered a traumatic brain injury and his peripheral vision got screwedup, so it pulled him off our team. He could either work a desk or leave the service. So he left. After that… it put things into perspective. I was getting older; soon I wouldn’t be able to do missions anymore. My parents were getting older. My sisters were having kids.”

“I’m sorry, Dante.”

“I felt guilty,” I explain. “I still do. I still wonder if there was something I could have done to save Jeff. To save Tyler’s leg.”

Sarah holds my gaze, empathy written across her face. “I’m sure you did your absolute best. Sometimes… there’s nothing anyone can do.”

Nodding, I agree, “I know. But it doesn’t stop me from thinking about it. From the guilt sneaking back in.”

“Dante.” She starts to stand up, and my stomach clenches. What was I thinking bringing this up? This is supposed to be a romantic date, and I’ve managed to dredge up Sarah’s past trauma and my own.

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