Then Johnny threw a condom at her and said, "Tabby, maybe next time you decide to put on a little show and make your way around the hockey team, you should use protection."
The door to her dorm room was papered with photos of her at the party posing with various guys. Their faces were blacked out.
Nobody was doing anything to stop them, and then Johnny moved closer, catching her shoulder. God no, if anything happened to her I'd never forgive myself. I picked up speed.
Almost there.
I grabbed the asshole by the shoulder, and spun him around. Of course the other chickenshits scattered. I didn't waste a moment before I nailed Johnny in the face with a right hook. And then I freaking went to town.
I vowed never to be silent again.
Johnny curled up on the floor.
"You got off easy this time, you dumb fuck," I said. "The next time you bother my sister, you won't get up. You get me?"
Johnny moaned.
"I said, do you get me?" I asked again after I dropped another kick to Johnny's ribs
"Yeah," cough, cough (real ones this time). "I get you, I get you," he said.
And Johnny Milton never bothered Tabby again.
Tabby never blamed me for that day, or any other. Christ, she even thought I was a hero for showing up at all.
I was no hero, but I also wasn't to blame. No more than Tabby was. I was finally beginning to believe that now
But I also knew would never sit out or back down again. And that went for Jenna too. I wouldn't stop helping her. I couldn't.
Yet maybe it was best if I stopped helping myself to someone who wasn't meant for me. I could help her, without being with her. As much as it killed me to think I'd never touch her again, maybe it was the best thing for her.
I didn't have the answers, but when I got home and found the Buddy Walker that I'd given Jenna hanging over my door knob, I considered it to be a sign.
Chapter Seventeen
Jenna
As if finding out the guy you're sleeping with (or slept with once) was trying to shut down your place of business wasn't bad enough, I forgot all about Christian, and our date.
It was so lame, and really sucky of me, but I played sick. I just couldn't deal with one other guy … except for Oscar.
But for the next several days, I tried to focus on the positive-particularly for the shelter. I had an idea to get some good publicity to get the cops off our backs and Tris' foundation on our side. In just a few days, I was able to pull the entire event together.
We'd hold a Spring Cleaning Spruce Up neighborhood event to help get the shelter looking its best. Nobody was going to call our perfect pet oasis a dump! Plus, people in Minneapolis loved this kind of neighborhood feel-good event. I wasn't ashamed to say I was taking full advantage.
We'd have a group on yardwork, painting, fence repair, and then offer special dog training courses and playtime with our adoptees. I found several local sponsors to help with supply costs and offered to assist other businesses in the area with their own events.
Gloria was ecstatic, and Tris agreed that the timing was perfect.
Though when Tristan called on the big day, I was exhausted and the last of my resolve had completely deteriorated.
"I'm hearing something in your voice, darling," Tris said on the phone. "What's going on up there?"
"It's just that fucking Sullivan," I told him. He'd heard those exact words fly from my lips several times in the past few weeks.
Of course, that wasn't the extent of my problems. I also missed Michael desperately.
Man, he'd really done a number on me, reminding me how good things could be with someone you cared about, and how it made every single thing in your life better. Even the dogs were sad without him.
"Honey," Tris pulled me out of my daydream. "I haven't heard you this wound up since you got into that tiff with Foster last year, are you okay?"
"I will be okay," I assured him. I had no idea why I was picking now to break down, but I had to get over it. There was too much work to do. "Things are just a little stressful with the event and all."
"Well, things are looking great from this end. We only have a few more steps to get the approval from the foundation. I'm sorry for the call, but I just wanted cheer you up, not freak you out. But since I've got you, why don't you tell me what really has your undies in such a bunch."
At this point, I had nothing left to lose so Tris got his wife, Aria, on the phone with us. Then, I proceeded to tell them both the long, sad story. Yeah, I told them the whole dang thing.
"What a prick," Aria said. She always took my side. She was a girl's girl, but Tris liked to play devil's advocate.
"Babe." He chided his wife. "We don't know Michael's reasoning for what he did. Maybe, he didn't have a choice. This is his career we're talking about."
"What about honesty?" Aria snapped.
"What about being scared shitless by you women?" Tris countered.
We all laughed, which, let me tell you, felt a heck of a lot better than what I really wanted to do-which was cry.
"Okay, enough of us bickering," Aria tried to soothe me, it was the mom in her. "What do you think, honey? How did Michael treat you?"
"Like a princess," I admitted. "Well, except when his sister was around. But we were working through that part. He didn't want to put her through the wringer unless we both were sure about where our relationship was going."
"And then he said, he'd come clean?" she pushed.
"He did," I said.
"Jesus, Jenna," Tris said. "What the heck did you do to the guy's sister?"
"I gave her the mean girl treatment." I cringed. "You remember what I was like."
"Did she deserve it?" he asked, hopeful.
"Nope," I spoke the truth. "And that's the problem. She didn't deserve it at all."
"Well, honey," Aria said. "Before you can work through any of this, you need to talk to the man."
Little did I know, I was about to get my chance sooner than I expected.
Our Spring Cleaning Spruce Up went off without a hitch. It was pretty awesome, actually. We had kids, and pets, and goodie bags for attendees, and the demonstrations on dog training were impressive. A local TV crew even came by to film a happy, fluffy piece.
It was more than I could've hoped for.
But what I didn't expect was to see Michael-wearing his speckled painting pants-at my event. Side note: he looked flipping incredible in his speckled painting pants.
"Where do you want me, boss?" he asked, proceeding gingerly.
I raised a brow in question.
"I'm actually pretty good," he said. "Painting was my summer job during high school and the first two years of college."
What could I say to that?
I got him set up with his gear and tried to dismiss the zing that traveled up my arm when our fingers brushed together as I handed him a paint brush.
I felt his eyes on me all day, and by the time the event was over, my body was so incredibly sensitive, I practically jumped him on our walk home.
"The case is over," Michael said, sobering me up from my drunken, lust-filled state.
"Case?" It took me a moment to understand what he was talking about. His body turned me into a moron.
"Sullivan," he reminded me. "I found out that guy has a list of broken city ordinances about a mile long. I took the info to the captain, and let's just say that nobody will be spinning their wheels on anymore of his complaints."
"Really?" I couldn't believe what he was saying, or that he did it all for me.
"Really." He reached over and took my hand. The zing was back ten-fold. "So are we good?"
"Why didn't you tell me? Do you know how miserable I've been?" I squeezed his hand a little too tight.
"I needed to be sure I had all the information," he said, all cop-like. The man and his rules. "Plus, you were right, I should've told you from the beginning, but I was too chickenshit."
"I thought I didn't scare you, Mr. Law and Order," I teased.
"You scare me, plenty." He pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. "You know, we do have a lot to talk about."
Talk? Who could think about talking?
Michael turned me to him, realizing that plan had gone to shit. His eyes were dark, his lids hooded. Oh, he wanted the same thing that I did. Everything else could wait.
"Later." I told him.
He nodded and dragged me up the stairs to his apartment like a ragdoll.
"Your place?" I questioned.
"Yeah, I don't think Oscar would be very happy with what I plan on doing to you."
Michael's bed was huge and so soft. And it smelled like manly heaven-soap, mint, and something woodsy. I wanted to roll around in it. But before we'd even made it to his room, he stripped me all my clothes.
I asked if he'd keep his speckled pants on-at least around his knees-and he just laughed and threw me on the bed.
Now, he was ready to pounce, pacing around the edge of the mattress like a mountain lion.
From the center of the bed, I pulled up to my knees, bracing for an attack.