Page 92 of Whirlwind
His dominance in the situation was a great distraction from the traumatic flashbacks my stupid brain was conjuring. I can never forget. Not all the words he said.
“You’ll like it, I promise.”
That was a lie.
The feeling of his hand on my chest, forcing me to still while he unfastened my pants, will never leave me. Ever. Nor will that first sharp pain, or the tears that silently spilled from the cornersof my eyes. Or the screams that were only loud in my own head because I was too stunned, confused, and terrified to vocalize them.
Those are things I’ll live with my entire life.
I hope his nose breaking under Tyson’s fist lives with him forever. If it does, it’s not enough. We’re not even. The scales can never be balanced. But it helps—that small amount of justice. It helps.
Willa stands behind me, her arms wrapped around my waist, her chin resting on my shoulder while she watches the scene with me.
“Tyson’s okay,” she says when Derik’s car drives off. “Are you?”
“I think so,” I say, trying to take stock of myself. My pulse is racing, my toes curled, I’m trembling, but not uncontrollably. “I’m not alone anymore.”
“Never again, bestie,” she says, leaning her head against mine.
My eyes don’t waver from Tyson as he walks back toward the house. He stops just short of the porch. Damian comes back in, but nobody follows. When I look back to the window, I see Tyson walking toward his car.
“Tyson,” I call, running outside to him.
“Are you okay?” he asks, turning to face me.
“Are you leaving?” I ask, nodding. There’s a red spot low on his cheek; I touch it with tenderness. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says, grinning. “If anything, I’m disappointed he didn’t put up more of a fight so I could have gone at him longer. And yes, I’m leaving. I’ll go to the motel, and you’ll call me if you need me.” He gives me a pointed look, and again, I nod.
“Can I—” I start, then stop to compose myself. Looking down at my sock-covered feet, I laugh. “I don’t have shoes on. But can I hug you?”
“Of course.” He wraps me in a big bear hug, lifting me off my feet and walking us back toward the house. When we reach the porch, he sets me back on my feet. “It’s been a long day. Go get some rest.”
“Okay,” I say, staring up at him. My emotions war with each other inside my chest. “Goodnight, Tyson.”
“Goodnight.” He presses his lips to my forehead. I don’t move back into the house until he’s gone and I’m certain he’s not coming back.
“He left,” I say when I’m back in the house, the door locked tightly behind me.
“He didn’t want to trauma bond,” Damian says.
“What do you mean?”
“A part of you wanted him to stay, right?” I nod, and he continues. “Was that because you want him here, or because you want the safety he provides?”
“Can it be both?” I ask, because I don’t really know the answer.
“Absolutely. But he doesn’t want you to forgive what he did last night because of what he did tonight. He’d protect you, even if you never speak to him again.”
“And wanting that protection from him shouldn’t be a factor in whether you two work things out. Or not,” Willa adds.
“He’s being a gentleman. Again,” I say.
“Yeah, babe,” Willa says. “He knows you’re fragile from everything going on. He doesn’t want to take advantage.”
“That’s good. I’m not sure I like it, right now, but it’s good,” I say, pouting a little—which only underscores what they’re saying. I’m not ready to have the conversation with him about calling me by another woman’s name, but what he did for me tonight was what I’ve dreamed of a man doing for me for as long as I can remember.
I hate to think of myself as a damsel in distress, but everyone needs a support system. I never felt I had one, until tonight, when three people showed up for me in huge ways—no questions asked.
