Page 88 of Savior

That wasn’t true.

He would’ve left.

“I couldn’t tell my own mother,” I admitted with a bitter laugh as more tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. “I’m a damn therapist, and by the time I pulled up in front of her house, I’d convinced myself that none of it would’ve happened if I hadn’t put myself in that situation in the first place. His actions were so out of character that I blamed myself.”

“Turn the car around,” he said softly, stroking his thumb over my knuckles.

“Nate, I can’t—”

He nodded briskly. “Yeah, you can, babe. Just go back. You don’t even have to get out of the car—”

“Enough. Your hand is in bad enough shape as it is, I don’t even know how you’re going to go to work. Let’s just get you home. Please.”

He let it go, and we drove in silence for a few minutes before he stated, “It wasn’t your fault—”

“Nate, I could’ve called anyone that night… made a better ch—”

“Don’t do it, Kate,” he warned. “Don’t justify his actions. It’s not that fucking hard to keep your goddamn hands to your self. Jesus, I imagine him touching you and—turn the fucking car around!”

I let out a shaky laugh. “He’s not worth it.”

His voice was almost inaudible as he asked, “Were you scared?”

I pressed the garage door opener before answering honestly. “No. I was mad as hell.”

“So am I, Katy girl. So am I,” Nate said with a chuckle before climbing out. “Are you—I mean, if you’re not comfortable—”

“I thought I’d stay, if it’s okay,” I finished for him as I opened the door.

The house looked exactly as it had over a week ago. The small pile of mail that we swore we were going to sort through was still stacked up on the corner of the island. My cardigan lay across one of the dining room chairs, exactly where I’d tossed it before making dinner the night I left. Even the faint scent of balsam from the plug-in I’d gotten on clearance after the holidays still lingered in the air.

My entire life, I’d wanted a place to call my own. I’d longed for the stability of staying in one place.

This place was my home.

Nate stretched his fingers with a wince, pulling me from my reverie and forcing me into action. I grabbed several ice packs from the freezer before leading him over to the couch. “Sit.” I placed one on top of the swollen joints on his hand and settled in at his side to hold the other to his puffy eye. “Let’s see if this helps. I can grab you some ibuprofen—”

“I should’ve told you the truth.” He reached up and tucked a few stray hairs behind my right ear, letting his fingers linger against my throat.

“Nate,” I swallowed. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

“We do. I think we’ve kept enough secrets from each other.” The muscle in his jaw twitched in anger. “Fuck, I wanna drive back over there.”

I let my forehead rest against his collar bone with a groan. “Stop. I meant what I said. He isn’t worth another thought.”

And this time, I believed it.

The fingers on his left hand curled under my chin, lifting my face to meet his. “In the car, you said that I’d been distant. You were right.” A shadow passed over his face. “I fucking threw myself into work to try to lessen the guilt over what happened that night. He was my patient, Katy. Mine. And I fucked it all up—listened to the wrong people. If I would’ve stayed with him, none of us would be in this mess. Jeremy would’ve never gotten anywhere near you—”

“They would’ve found another way, Nate. If it wasn’t you, they would’ve tried to make someone else the fall guy. Just look at the people they have working for them.” I shuddered with the realization that though we’d unmasked one tonight, there were countless others still lurking in the shadows.

“How do we keep getting it all wrong, Katy girl?” Nate hesitated. “With us, I mean. It’s like we’re both still afraid of getting our hands dirty.”

I moved in a little closer, breathing in the familiar scent of him. “I know what you’re saying. I just got so focused on things being perfect out of some fear that I’d end up like my mother. I didn’t want anything to threaten what we had.”

Like Cinderella waking up the morning after the ball to discover her carriage had returned to a pumpkin.

“And now?” His voice was quiet.

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