"I was alone," he said. "For over two months. In a cell. That's what I dream about." He paused. "You're there sometimes."
"In the cell?"
Slowly, he raised his eyes to mine. "No. Just outside of it. Outside my reach. Everyone else can touch you, and I can't."
My limbs quivered, fatigued. This felt like a breakthrough and my entire body reacted to it. "Why does that scare you?"
I thought I knew the answer, and it could be summed up in one word-helpless. It described his role in Madison's death, his situation with the courts, and his relationship to me. It was maybe the only thing that could incapacitate a man as big and protective as Manning-knowing he could help, and being unable to.
"It scares me because things go wrong. Life isn't fair. Some people are bad. I don't want you to experience any of that."
"You don't have nightmares because you think I'll get hurt. You have them because you can't stop bad things from happening."
"I couldn't for Madison."
"You were helpless." I ducked my head to look him in the eye. "There was nothing you could've done for Madison, and you know you won't always be able to protect me."
"Helpless," he repeated.
"Why did you beat up that guard?" I asked. His gaze darkened. As close as his face was to mine, I couldn't deny feeling intimidated, but I held his stare. He didn't scare me. "What would make you that angry?"
He shook his head. "I can't explain it."
"Try. You're not protecting me by not telling me. When you don't, I fill in the blanks, Manning. I think these awful things, like that they took away your food or stole from you or-"
"I snapped, Lake. That's it. I snapped." His palm went clammy against my chest. "Just like him."
Snapped. It took me back to that night in the truck when he'd opened up about Maddy. Not only had Manning watched his dad's anger burst in an instant, but as a teenager, Manning had also been accused of, and nearly arrested for, snapping. "You're not like him," I said. I put my hand over his on my chest. "You are a better man. The best."
He looked toward the sink. "They wanted to get under my skin, and I let them. I went somewhere I shouldn't."
"Then what?" I asked. He wouldn't look at me. I grabbed his face and forced him to. "Then what?"
"I had to face the punishment. Solitary confinement for over two months, and I almost caught more charges, but for once, luck was on my side."
"How is that luck?" I asked, curling my fingers into his cheeks. "Two months alone, without anything or anyone. It's not right." Now, I was the one breathing hard, my frustration getting the better of me. I hated the idea of it, of them beating him and locking him up alone. Had he had enough to eat, been warm enough, had friends to confide in? "What did you think about in there?"
"Everything."
I moved my index finger down the crooked bridge of his nose, then touched the raised scar, the break in stubble on his upper lip. "Did they do this to you?"
It was no wonder he hated me.
His mouth parted, and as if by instinct, I dropped my finger to his bottom lip. Hardness nudged the soft inside of my thigh, but I was too afraid to look down. I used his solid body as leverage to slide forward on the tile and bring him between my knees. I couldn't believe I was just touching him. Just like that.
"Was I there? In your nightmare?" I asked. I ran my fingertip along his mouth. My other hand played with the soft ends of his hair.
He nodded.
"I'm still here."
He fisted my top in one hand, and spanned his big hand along the back of my head. The tips of his middle finger and thumb grazed each of my earlobes. He pulled me toward him, gripping my camisole so tightly that one of the thin straps snapped. My heart hammered in my chest. Manning and I were going to kiss. He had an erection, I was pretty sure. We'd have sex. On prom night. Just like I'd dreamed about. It was larger and more life-changing than anything I'd done up until then-and terrifying enough that I almost stopped him. I almost couldn't bear the weight of it.
"Manning?" I heard from a distance.
He stopped short.
It took me a moment to remember where I was, and that we weren't alone. That I had a sister who'd probably sat in this same spot. I looked over Manning's shoulder. Until then, I hadn't noticed the open bedroom door. Tiffany's bare legs were tangled in the sheets on the right side of the bed. For some reason, that shocked me. Like she should be in the middle the way she'd slept at home. It was the first evidence I'd seen of Manning and my sister sleeping in the same bed.