Page 111 of Boost

We both leaned against the rear wall in a silence that made me twitchy. Bending forward to inspect my boots did nothing to ease the tension humming around us. It was too thick, too unsettling.

Glancing her way, I caught her eyes and returned her small smile. It killed me that we were suspended within the weight of conversations yet to come. Idreadedevery single one of them.

When the elevator deposited us on Greer’s floor, I motioned for her to go first. The graze of my fingers along her waist made her inhale sharply, and her fingers trembled as she unlocked the door to her condo.

“Are you scared of me, Greer?” I murmured, taken aback when she whipped her attention my way and locked eyes.

“No.”

“Then why are you shaking so bad?” I asked, enveloping one hand in mine and smoothing my thumb back and forth.

“I’m just nervous.”

I frowned. “Around me?”

“No.” She shook her head, and a cute-as-fuck furrow formed between her eyebrows. “I’m nervous about telling you about my past.”

“Hey,” I said softly and ran the back of my knuckles along her jaw. “I’ve been there and I’ve seen it. I’m the last person you’ll receive judgement from.”

A ghost of a laugh escaped her plump lips. “You’re not exactly an open book, Rafael.”

I frowned and fought off a snappy retort. Instead, I inhaled deeply and then worked the weight from my shoulders.

“For you, I will be.”

Some of the tension in her stance slid away. “Come inside. Drink?” she offered over her shoulder.

I followed her into the kitchen. “Coffee, thanks,” I mumbled. Then it hit me. “Why the fuck aren’t you at work?”

“I took a day.”

“Why?”

The coffee mug cracked down onto the stone counter, and apparently that was the only answer I was getting. A shot glass followed suit, along with a bottle of Jose Cuervo. I raised my eyebrows at Greer as she poured herself a shot and tipped it back without lemon or salt.

“That seems a little extreme, don’t you think?” I chuckled, then quickly shut up when I received a scathing glare.

“I was in a physically and mentally abusive relationship for almost a year.”

Her words cut across the air and landed on me like a fresh lashing. I coughed on the inhale that snagged in my throat and gripped the island bar like my life depended on it.

“Thefuck?”

Greer held up a trembling hand to demand silence. “It got progressively worse until I couldn’t take anymore.”

“Why’d you stay?” I asked quietly, knowing it wasn’t ever that simple after seeing my mamá go through her shit.

But I never understoodwhythose suffering didn’t leave sooner. After all, I was sure Greer didn’t have children with her ex, and therefore wasn’t ‘obliged’ to stay for the sake of her family.

She shrugged. “Why does anyone stay in a relationship like that?”

When I simply stared without saying a word, she sighed heavily. “I believed him when he promised it wouldn’t happen again. He’d tell me how sorry he was and beg me to stay. Buy me something nice as an apology gift and implore that he would change for me. Say that he was out of sorts and just having a bad day. I trusted him over and over again, each time believing that he’d finally start treating me better. Each time I’d be so happy because I thought he finally realized that I was worth enough for him to change. He didn’t, though.

“Then, one day at my lowest, my friend found me having an anxiety attack in the bathrooms where we worked. She sat with me until I confided in her, and that night she helped me escape. I’m so grateful, because at the time, I didn’t have the courage to leave on my own accord. I needed that support—especially since no one knew how he was treating me. I guess I got good at hiding it.”

She took another shot of Tequila and grimaced. “Now you know my story.”

My fists curled into fists on the cold countertop. I didn’t know nearly enough. “Then what?”

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