The fear of anything happening to her has brought what I feel into sharp focus. I shouldn’t have let her go. I need her like nobody else in the world.
As if sensing me, she looks up, and for a second her shoulders relax. Her full mouth tilts into a faint smile.
Then it falls, and she hunches over. “Dylan? What are you doing here?”
I’m by her side in two strides. I open my arms and pull her to me. She’s rigid for a moment, then she clutches the back of my neck, burying her face in my shoulder. She’s trembling, and I tighten my hold on her.
Mine. She’s mine.
I shake my head to clear it. “Tess, did he hit you? Did he hurt you?”
“He didn’t.” She pulls back a little to lift her face. Her eyes are red-rimmed but dry. “I kneed him.”
My jaw slackens. “You what?”
“He was holding me against the wall. I couldn’t escape.” A shudder wracks her. “So I kneed him where it hurts most.”
A chuckle escapes me despite my best intentions, and she snorts, too, but the sound turns into a sob, and my anger returns.
Anger at the asshole who hurt her. Anger at myself for not being there to protect her. For not being a part of her life.
“I’ll kill the fucker,” I mutter. “I swear I will.”
She suddenly squirms and pushes off me. “Why did you come?” A shadow of pain goes through her eyes. “You should go.”
“Don’t.” I reach again for her. “I don’t want to leave you, not now.”
“Dylan, it’s too late,” she says softly, stepping away, and each word turns into a bullet to my chest. “You left me long ago.”
Fuck. She’s right. But that was a mistake I don’t plan on making again.
***
Ignoring the dark looks Audrey and Ash are sending my way, I follow them to the police station. Tessa doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t acknowledge my presence at all, even though I sit in Audrey’s car right next to her. She keeps her hands clasped in her lap, and I tamp down on the urge to reach for her.
Once at the station, I stand by her side as she answers questions, explaining what happened with her ex today and other times and fills out a form.
Fury rises in me, its heat intense, lifting off the fog that seems to shroud my mind these days. I pace restlessly, hands in my pockets, listening as she speaks softly, relating how this Sean Anholt treated her—like dirt under his shoe, like his property.
And she doesn’t find it strange, or so it sounds from the way she’s telling the story. Like she’s used to it. I remember suddenly the bruises on her arms and how she said some were her dad’s doing.
Red mist fills my vision. I swear under my breath when she explains how he cornered her and told her that her dad had given him the card and the okay to enter her building.
I kick the wall and curse out loud.
“Please, sir.” The police officer on duty sends me an unfriendly look. “Have a seat, this won’t take long.”
Ash and Audrey are sitting in the back of the room. But how can I settle down? I want to grab Tess and leave, take her home and keep her close to me. Make sure she knows she’s safe now. That I won’t let her go.
She shows the police officer fading bruises on her wrists and tells the story of how she kept her cool and managed to break the guy’s hold. Pride fills me at how strong she is, how level-headed her reaction was. For a girl pretty as a doll, she sure has balls of brass.
A wave of fierce protectiveness washes over me, followed by a tide of need so strong it makes every muscle in my body clench and my dick harden.
Fuck me, I want this girl. I want her for myself, wanted her all along. All my reasons for letting her go those years back seem weak and stupid now. Nothing can be more important than being with her. Nothing feels as good, as right. Funny how I was scared of losing her—when I was the one pushing her away, never giving this thing between us a chance.
Tessa stands up, hands tucked under her armpits, her gaze dark. “Thank you,” she tells the officer in her soft voice that sends thrills down my spine and makes my heart beat just a little bit faster.
“Tess…” I try to catch her gaze. “Come home with me.”
“Home.” Her voice goes even softer, and her expression closes down, turning her small face into an impassive mask. She keeps her arms wrapped around herself, as if she’s cold, although it’s warm inside the station.
“Please tell me what’s wrong. Is it because of that fucker?” My hand falls to my side, clenching into a fist. “Did he hurt you in some other way?”
“No, Dylan, it’s not that.” She sighs. “I’m tired of this, of being in your arms one second and out in the cold the next. I can’t trust that any good moment with you will last.”