His face freezes. He looks like he’s in pain. “Why did you stay?” It sounds more like a plea than a question.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got all night … week … year.”
“It’s not worth going into.”
He drives his hand into his hair. “But you left. Came here. What gave you the push?”
“He tried to rape me.”
I see my words hit him like a physical blow. He recoils, hands white-knuckle around the edge of the table.
There’s this horrible strained pause between us.
I feel sick.
My body has broken out in a cold sweat. Tremors running all over, settling into my stomach, a pit of fear and self-loathing.
I need food. And privacy.
Now.
I curl my fingernails into the bed of my hand, trying to control my urge to leap from my chair and run to the nearest convenience store.
Jordan’s eyes have not left my face. A myriad of emotions scrolling through them. I don’t want to look at him right now, but I can’t seem to bring myself to look away.
“He did what?” I don’t know if he actually says the words, or mouths them because my ears are ringing with the truth.
I pull my top lip into my mouth, biting it.
I blink once. Twice. “He tried to … rape me.”
“Jesus f**kin’ Christ,” Jordan whispers angrily. Elbows on the table, he drops his head in his hands.
I shouldn’t have told him. Why did I tell him?
I shrink back into my seat, wishing to be invisible. Wanting to rewind time.
The atmosphere is awful. The silence painful.
When I reach the point where I can’t take it anymore, which isn’t long, I push my chair out.
Jordan’s head snaps up at the sound of wood scraping wood. “Where are you going?”
“I, uh…” I glance in the direction of the exit.
His eyes follow mine, then flicker back. “Don’t go.” He blows out a breath, pressing at his temples with his fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m not handling this right … I just—” He shakes his head, leaning close to me. “Jesus, Mia, I just can’t handle the thought of anyone hurting you – not like that – not at all.”
His words make it hard to breath. They matter to me more than I care to admit right now.
When his eyes rest on my face, they soften. “What can I do … to help you?”
And those squeeze my heart.
“Nothing.” I swallow past the huge lump in my throat. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t buy it. I can see it in your eyes that you’re far from fine.” A storm rolls in over his features. “Tell me where he lives.”
“W-what? Why?”
“Why do you think?”
I tense. “Jordan, I didn’t tell you so you’d go beat him up.” Why did I tell him? “I told you because…” I shake my head. “I don’t want you to beat Forbes up.”
He frowns. “That’s his name – Forbes?”
I realize this is the first time I’ve spoken his name in almost a week. And I wonder if Jordan knowing his name is a mistake on my part.
I say nothing.
He breaks my gaze and rests his elbows on the table, putting his head in his hands again. Tension is pouring off him in waves.
Tilting his head back slightly, his eyes lift to mine. There’s a vulnerability in them that surprises me. “I need to do something, Mia.”
“Why?” My words are quiet.
“Because … I just do.” His are soft.
“You are doing something. You’re being my friend. That counts for a lot.”
“I need to do more.”
“No.” I shake my head, edging off my seat. “I don’t need more. I shouldn’t have told you. It was a mistake.”
The skin around his eyes tightens. “You’re wrong. The only mistake was not telling me sooner.” He reaches over and grabs my hand, keeping me from leaving.
I try to ignore the way his touch makes me feel. The ache in my chest of longing for something I never knew I wanted until now.
“I wish you’d told me before now,” he adds quietly.
He rubs his thumb gently over the back of my hand. It’s an unconscious move on his part but means so much to me.
Men don’t touch me gently. Not like this. Not ever.
And he’s done it twice in the matter of minutes.
“Have you told anyone else, aside from me, what he did to you?”
My eyes widen in horror at the thought. I’m still in shock that I told him and trying to figure out what that means, let alone tell anyone else.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He shakes his head sadly. “You need to report this to the police. He can’t get away with what he did to you.”
“What? No.” Panic squeezes my stomach like a vice.
“Mia…”
“No!” My voice is harsher than I knew I had in me. I rear back, taking my hand with me.
Whatever Jordan sees on my face has him placating, “Okay. No police.” He lays his palms on the table between us. “Just do one thing for me…?” When I don’t respond, he continues. “Don’t keep anything else locked up inside you. You need someone to talk to, someone to trust – that person is me. I won’t ever judge you. I will never hurt you. And I won’t let you down. I might have done some shit things in my past, I might have treated people badly … people who didn’t deserve it, but I won’t do that to you – ever. I promise.”