Page 66 of His Juliet

She sniffed again and I reached over with my free hand to wipe the tears streaming down her cheek.

“He got me a soda,” she continued. “It must have been spiked because everything is hazy after that. When I woke up, it was the morning. He played it off like I’d just fallen asleep, but I was sore and bleeding down there and knew he’d had sex with me. That was my first time.”

“Fucker,” I breathed out. I wanted to gather Juliet to my chest, wanted to steal her away so no one could ever hurt her again, but I didn’t want to interrupt her story.

“I managed to get home and locked myself in my apartment. And that’s when I found out that my friend Breanna had?—”

Her voice broke as soft sobs shook her chest. I’d reached my limit. I reached over and gently tugged Juliet until she arranged herself over my chest. The feel of her calmed me enough to make my inner monster recede.

For now.

I would unleash it when I went hunting for this rapist.

“Breanna had what?” I asked softly.

“She killed herself. She’d been going through a hard time, but that night, she had called me. And I didn’t answer.”

I held her tighter. “It’s not your fault. None of it—not what he did, not what she did.”

“But if I hadn’t gone with him, I would have answered my phone. What if I could have stopped her?”

Each one of her tears dripping onto my bare chest was like little drops of acid. I welcomed them into me, imagining I was taking just a bit of her pain.

“She was suffering, but so were you. And blaming yourself only increases that suffering.” As I spoke the words, I realized I could be speaking to myself. But I had darkness inside me. It tainted me, tainted my hands while Juliet was as pure as starlight.

“I didn’t go to her funeral,” Juliet whispered. “My friends tried to call me. They came here, but I wouldn’t open the door. I was too ashamed. And by then, I was terrified to leave. I’ve always been terrified of small spaces after something that happened in my childhood. But now I panic with wide open spaces, too. It was always hard for me to go out in public, but when my friends were with me, I could do it. But in the past two years, things have just gotten worse. You saw how I am. I can’t deviate from my route. I only have a few places my mind has accepted as safe.”

I wanted to ask her what had happened when she was younger. Was it connected to losing her parents? I didn’t understand how someone as precious as Juliet walked around with so much trauma inside her and was still so sweet.

“You’re safe with me, angel. Always.”

She finally relaxed against my chest and wrapped her arms around me. “It doesn’t make sense that I feel so safe with you, but I do.”

I ran my hands up and down her back. Her trust was the greatest gift I’d ever been given.

“After what happened, I did a few free therapy sessions through video call. There was some state grant that covered them for victims of violence. She’s the one who taught me to do yoga when I’m overwhelmed.”

“I overwhelmed you.” I swallowed hard, a sick feeling in my stomach.

She clutched at me harder. “No, it’s nothing you did. I wanted it. My body just… had a reaction after.”

“If I had known, I would have…” I trailed off because I had no idea what I would have done differently. All I knew was I would do anything for her.

“I don’t want you to treat me differently.” She propped herself up on my chest, and I was relieved to see that she had stopped crying. “I don’t want you different. I just wish I was different.”

“No,” I growled, gripping her hair in my hand. “You are fucking perfect.”

A tiny smile pulled at her lips. “I’m a pile of baggage in a trench coat.”

I clutched her tighter. “I’ll wear you like a trench coat.”

There was a beat of silence, and then we both burst out laughing.

I groaned. “That was supposed to sound romantic.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It did. The pinnacle of romance.”

I lightly swatted her butt and then kept my hand there, gently kneading like she was my personal stress ball. I couldn’t get enough of her. My Juliet.

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