by Linda Kage
Paige nodded, letting Mariah know she’d heard and would keep herself together until they made it to their room.
Einstein lurked in his usual spot and darted into the foyer as soon as Paige came through the door. Without meaning to, she gasped and shied away from him.
Freezing in place, he looked her up and down, his gaze pausing on her chest where she physically held up the top of her dress. “What happened?”
Mariah snorted. “Dorian Wade happened. The bastard.” She bustled inside behind Paige and manually took Paige’s shoulders to aim her toward the staircase.
Paige couldn’t stop staring at Einstein as Mariah nudged her along. He didn’t look real, his mouth falling open and eyes shocked.
“Dorian Wade? The star football player?”
“Yes! The star football player,” Mariah snapped as she prodded Paige up another step. “He just tried to rape Paige.”
The word had her shuddering. Hearing it aloud made is suddenly real. Oh, God. She’d almost been—
She couldn’t even think the word.
“What!” Einstein scurried after them, following them up the stairs. “Are you okay, Paige? What happened? Did he hurt you?”
“Does she freaking look okay to you, kid?” Mariah waved him back. “Go back to lurking in your creepy little hole. She wants to be left alone right now.”
It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared that Paige blinked and glanced at her roommate. “You didn’t have to be so mean to him.”
Mariah snorted. “What? He’s an eerie little freak that needs to grow up and learn how annoying and weird he is.”
“He’s not annoying. He’s just lonely.”
She understood loneliness. Too well.
“And you’re totally wigging out,” Mariah said, clutching Paige’s arm to keep her upright when her shaking knees turned to noodles.
Paige shrugged Mariah away. “I’m okay.” But as soon as she spoke, she shivered and huddled her shoulders deeper over her torso, preserving as much body heat as possible.
Mariah stopped touching her but lingered close enough to catch her if need be as they inched down the hallway, Paige leaning on the wall for support.
“Here. I think I have my key.” Being uncommonly helpful, Mariah surged in front of her to take care of the lock. After she disappeared into their room, Paige followed, going straight to her bed and slumping down. She kicked off the shoes Mariah had loaned her and hugged herself, rocking back and forth.
Shoving open the bathroom, Mariah hurried inside only to pound on the opposite door. When neither Bailey nor Tess answered, she cursed. “Where the hell are Larry and Curly? Aren’t they always around?”
“They left for the weekend. Went skiing,” Paige automatically answered before squinting over the comedy reference. “The Three Stooges? Does that make me Moe then?”
Her roommate didn’t bother to answer. She let out a weighty sigh, set her hands on her hips, and studied Paige with an expression that clearly said, What’m I supposed to do with you now?
Paige burst into tears.
Mariah cursed again and began to pace.
“I’m okay,” Paige tried to reassure her, though she couldn’t stop crying and she couldn’t stop shaking. “I…I think I’ll just…I’m going to take a shower and…and scrub my skin raw.”
“Okay.” Mariah nodded. “Okay, good. I’m just going to…” She glanced longingly at the door.
Paige gave her a wobbly smile. “Yeah. Thanks for bringing me home. You can go.”
Hesitating, Mariah frowned. “You sure you’ll be okay alone?”
“I’ll be fine.” She’d rather be alone than have Mariah hover over her, frowning all night, that was for sure.
Left alone, she took the longest shower she’d ever taken.
When she finished, she dressed in long sleeves, covering as much skin as possible, wanting every inch of flesh protected. But even in her long, baggy pants and turtleneck, she felt exposed, still remembering the air rushing up the back of her thighs, baring her to the world.
She dragged a sweatshirt over the turtleneck and wrapped a fleece throw blanket around her shoulders, but no matter how many layers she piled on, she still felt unprotected and cold, frozen to the bone.
She recalled the feel of Dorian’s breath on the back of her neck, moist and sticky. Shoving the memory into the back recesses of her mind, she grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste and scrubbed the taste of his beer and her strawberry Jell-O shots from her taste buds. She almost wished she’d had enough alcohol to be drunk right now; maybe that would numb some of the fear and creepy, there’s-a-spider-crawling-all-over-me sensation she couldn’t shrug away.
After brushing her teeth a couple more times, she paced the floor. But her knees still kept going loose and unstable, so she curled up on her bed and grabbed the remote to turn the TV on. After flipping through a dozen stations, she settled on an old episode of Dirty Jobs. She’d just lowered the volume and was staring vacantly at the screen when a soft knock came on her door.
She didn’t feel like talking to Einstein. But she didn’t want to brush him off either.
Closing her eyes briefly and bolstering her resolve, she pushed from her mattress to cheek the peephole.
Her breath caught when she saw a familiar pair of blue eyes staring back.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
FINGERS FUMBLING as she unlocked her door, Paige yanked it open to gape at Logan.
He lifted his face, looking apologetic. “Mariah let me into the building when she was leaving. She said to give you a couple minutes to get cleaned up before knocking.”
Silently, she shifted aside to permit him entrance. After he stepped past her, she shut the door and locked, then bolted, it.
When she turned around, she found him watching her.
“I just came by to see how you were doing.” Blue eyes analyzed her face, and he exhaled harshly. “He did hit you, didn’t he? You’re already starting to bruise.”
He stepped toward her, lifting the tips of his fingers to her still-throbbing cheek. She winced and skittered a cautious step back. “It’s fine,” she rushed to say.
He froze, his expression wounded as his gaze darted to hers. Dropping his hand, he swallowed hard. “Sorry.”
She licked her cracked lips and tried to think up something to say to make him feel better. “He…he didn’t hit me.”
She decided against explaining that the newest bruise had actually come from the wall when Dorian had shoved her against it and pinned her there while he’d thrust her dress up around her waist.
She shuddered, telling herself to stop thinking about that already.
Logan went beet red. “The police told me they talked to you. Did they really talk to you?”
She winced as that disturbing conversation wavered through her brain and gave a slight nod. “Yeah. We talked.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t really tell them it was a misunderstanding, did you?”
That hadn’t been her word, but she’d known that’s what the cops had wanted her to say. They’d led the questioning so that all she needed to do what nod and say, “Sure. That’s what happened.” They didn’t want their school embroiled into any media-covered scandal any more than she wanted to revisit what had happened. It had been so much easier to simply agree with them and let it all drop.
“Paige, you didn’t. Christ, he wasn’t going to stop, and you know it.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to stop shivering, briskly rubbing her palms over the tops of her thighs. He knelt in front of her, his eyes reflecting all the pain and anguish inside her.
“You should go back to the police and tell them the truth. I’ll come with you.”
When he reached out as if to take her hand and lead her to the authorities right then, she shook her head vigorously. “No. No, I don’t want to drag this out. I just want it to be over.”
“But—”
“Please,” she whispered.
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He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. “I am so sorry, Paige. This is my fault. I should’ve checked on you sooner. I should’ve…Damn it, if I’d have known he wasn’t going to be punished, I would’ve hit him harder.”
But as soon as he spoke, he cringed. “God, I didn’t mean to say that. After what happened with…your brother, I didn’t think I’d ever want to hit anyone else again. But when I saw you struggling against him, with your skirt…I got over my aversion real quick.” He shook his head, his lashes lifting so he could look at her from tortured eyes.
“It okay,” she assured, her throat burning and sore from screaming a short time ago. Still feeling Dorian’s hands on her, ripping down the front of her dress and touching her where she hadn’t allowed him to touch, she hugged herself, protecting her chest, even though she knew the threat was gone. “I’m actually glad you got over it.”
Logan’s attention drifted to her trembling hands, and he cursed under his breath. “What am I doing?” he muttered and pushed back to his feet to run his hands through his hair. “I came here to make sure you were okay, not talk about…about that.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, wondering how many times it’d take her to repeat the sentiment until she began to believe it.
When he stalked across the carpet and back, she gave a small smile. Her floor had definitely seen its fair share of pacing tonight. But she liked watching Logan pace. The way he looked so concerned and agitated all on her account made her feel…loved. With Mariah’s irritated mumblings as she’d paced, Paige had just wanted to be alone. But with Logan here…
“Will you keep me company for a little bit?” Her chin trembled when she realized she’d probably burst out crying if he said no. “I don’t want to be alone.”
His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything, only nodded and gingerly settled himself on the floor across the room from her.
Unable to take her eyes off him, afraid he’d disappear if she looked away, she rubbed her hands up and down the sides of her arms, keeping them crossed defensively over her chest, but she still felt chilled through two layers of clothes.
Silently, Logan leaned back against a bare patch of wall next to the bathroom. With his hands stuffed deep in the front pocket of his hoodie, he looked like he was as drawn into himself as she was with her arms fastened securely over her chest.
What a pair they made.
He turned his attention to her television and stared vacantly at the commercial playing. She studied it too. It didn’t even occur to her to turn up the volume. As they watched in silence, she felt safe with him keeping a quiet vigil over her. She didn’t think anyone else could’ve made her feel any safer.
“How far did he get?” he finally asked.
Paige closed her eyes and tried not to remember, but it kept rolling through her head like an awful horror movie stuck on replay.
“Right…right after…” She wasn’t sure if she could say it aloud. But when she opened her eyes, Logan was watching her with an intent expression, letting her know he wouldn’t leave it alone until she told him everything.
Gulping, she tried again. “Right after I heard him unzip, he pulled my skirt up. He was…he was trying to remove my underwear when you arrived.”
“He’d already unzipped?” His voice cracked as he spoke, the muscles in his upper arms occasionally twitching under his long sleeves.
Paige glanced away. “Didn’t you notice his fly hanging open while he was slumped on the ground?”
“No.” He looked stupefied. “Thank God. I probably would’ve killed him.” As soon as the words cleared his throat, he winced and thumped his head back against the wall. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
She knew he hadn’t. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but his gaze traveled to the picture sitting on her desk of her and her brother.
“I never should’ve hit Trace.” His face filled with hot color. “I never should have messed with his girlfriend. I never should’ve…God.” He bowed his head nearly between his bent knees. “He could still be here today. He could’ve been at that party and been the one to save you, but…I took that away from you, and I don’t know how to bring him back.”
When he looked at her, tears filled his eyes.
“I don’t know how to undo this,” he confessed on a harsh whisper. “I try. I try so hard to be good, to work hard at my job, to study all my assignments. But none of it matters, not how many cancer clinics I volunteer at or bloody fingers I patch up. He’ll still be gone. And he should be here, right now, instead of me. He could go to you and put his arms around you and just…hug you. I know that’s what you need. You need someone to hold you.”
“Logan.”
She said his name because she didn’t think she could listen to any more of his gut-wrenching words. Her heart broke. For him. For herself. For their situation.
But when she slid from her bed to approach him, he surged off the floor, shaking his head as if he couldn’t bear her kindness.
“I should go.” He turned toward the door without a farewell.
She held herself tight, standing lonely in the middle of her dorm room. He reached for the doorknob and even wrapped his hand around it. But he didn’t turn the handle, and he didn’t leave.
Instead, he swerved slowly back around, looking apologetic and defeated. “I can’t go,” he confessed, his red-rimmed eyes lost and tormented. “I’m just going to hold you, okay? You need some comfort. So, just…pretend I’m someone else. All right?”
But she didn’t want anyone else. She only wanted him. “All right.”
When he caught her shoulders and nudged her gently against his chest, she closed her eyes and sank home. Solid and real, he closed his arms around her and tucked his face close to her hers, kissing her hair. “You’re going to be okay.”
She breathed in the scent of his hoodie, and listened to the steady thud of his heart through his chest. It was delicious and warm and just what she needed. He felt so different from the bulkier Dorian Wade, and that difference mattered.
Logan was safe.
Yet his steady, supporting, sheltering presence made a dam burst inside her, splintering apart all the emotions she’d been holding back since her last sob fest.
She cried some more.
Each teardrop fell for a different reason. A few dozen for the night’s events. A handful more for the loss of her brother. She even shed tears for her mother and her father. For Kayla. She cried for Logan and all the misery he’d been through since making a horrible mistake three years ago. But mostly she cried for their lost relationship.
Logan held her through it all, a silent fount of protective support. When she lifted her face from his shoulder, she felt drained.
“I want to lie down,” she slurred.
He nodded instantly. “Okay.”
He shifted them to the bed until he was easing her down. When he tried to step back so she was lying by herself, she tightened her hold on him. “No. Please. Stay.”
Again, he nodded. As he hesitantly stretched out on the narrow mattress beside her, she curled close. Trusting him implicitly, she relished the feel of the blankets at her side and his warmth at her cheek.
She nestled close. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel warm again. I was so cold.”
He rubbed her arm, warming her even more. When she used his shoulder as a pillow, he kissed her hair.
“Rest,” he murmured gently. His breath on her cheek didn’t feel at all like Dorian’s had because it was warm and scented with Logan’s dragon-defeating spearmint gum.
Smiling with the memory of their morning together at the children’s ward, she closed her eyes and relaxed against him, soothed by his presence. He coaxed her into sleep, stroking her arm through all the layers of clothing separating them.
“Don’t leave,” she mumbled, her brain already fogging into a lovely oblivion.
She woke once in the night to a nightmare. Phantom hands groping her, crawling up her ski
rt, nipping at her neck. Cold air seizing her thighs.
Paige whimpered and flailed. When she struck something solid and fleshy, she slashed toward it again, intent on defending herself.
A grunt and curse followed, and suddenly it was gone. Then something grasped her shoulders. “Paige. Paige, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
The dream didn’t let her go easily. Her brain kept dragging her back into the dark torments of hands over her mouth, arms pinning her own immobile. She cried out, afraid.
“Paige!”
She gasped into consciousness and was instantly hugged to a solid, familiar chest. “It’s okay,” he assured her, smoothing back her hair. “Just a dream. You’re okay.”
She gulped and panted as she tried to regain her sanity. Logan disappeared for a second only to reappear and thrust a cup of water into her hand. She drank gratefully.
It cleared her brain until she could think rationally. “Did I hit you?”
He ran his fingers over his hair stubble and shook his head. “Just my arm. I’m fine. Are you better now?”
She nodded and returned the empty cup to him. He straightened and carried it to the sink where he must’ve found it.
All the lights blazed in the room. She soaked up his face, immediately feeling better. She wanted to reach out and smooth her fingers over his buzz cut as she’d just watched him do.
He was so Logan, and she was so relieved he was here.
“I should probably go.” His blue eyes looked worried as he backed away from her.
“What? No!” She launched herself off the bed and clutched him close, clinging shamelessly. “Don’t leave me now.”
“Okay, okay.” He patted her hands, reassuring her. “I’ll stay. No problem.” But his gaze strayed toward Mariah’s side of the room. “Do you think your roommate would mind if I crashed on her mattress?”
The idea of him anywhere near Mariah’s bed sent irrational jealousy through her system. In fact, the idea of him anywhere right now, except wrapped around her, sounded downright intolerable.
“I promise I won’t punch you again in my sleep,” she blurted.
