Ruin My Life (Mangled Masterpieces #1)

57. Remy

57

Remy

“ B aby, I’m fine, I swear.”

Bullshit. He’s still shaky as fuck.

Win kept it together until we got in the car, then the panic attack hit him like a freight train. It took almost the entire drive back to his parents to stop the hyperventilating. (I had to pull over twice for him to puke.) When we entered the house, Win’s mom started bawling which only restarted his panic attack. I vaguely remember telling my boyfriend’s mom to, “ Back the fuck up and give him a second. ” I’m not proud of my reaction, but my only priority right now is Win.

Pinching the corners of the fleece blanket under his chin, I sink into a crouch between his legs.

“You’re not, but you’re managing.”

He rolls those pretty grey eyes but doesn’t argue.

Yelling from the hall drifts into the living room. “Oh no, there’s nothing to work out here. He was a fucking kid … No, that’s false. The statute of limitations in the case of a minor who was threatened and blackmailed into silence allows us to prosecute to the fullest, which we fucking will and then some. I’ll bankrupt you with lawsuits for the irreparable damage you’ve done to my son— I don’t give a fuck if you didn’t know, you’re complicit in trying to cover up multiple counts of violent, statutory rape! ”

On and on and on.

I’ll give it to the guy, he’s been ripping Dr. Larson a new asshole for the last twenty minutes. At first, I suggested we sneak off to the guest house for Win to escape for a bit, but he wanted to sit here, eavesdropping on his stepdad as he berated his now ex-client.

Win clenches his jaw, his fingers curling around mine.

Behind us, a throat clears. I look over my shoulder and sigh. Richard hovers in the archway; his shirt is wrinkled and untucked, the sleeves haphazardly pushed up to the elbows. Even his meticulously kept hair sticks up in all directions.

He glances at Win.

“We need to discuss… next steps.”

My boyfriend is stiff as a board again. I drop my forehead to his knee. “I don’t think now is the best time.”

“We don’t really have a choice,” Richard sighs. “The three of them received multiple character witness letters proclaiming how wonderful they are. Not only that, but we currently only have the video tying Jessica into this. If we want to nail all of them with the maximum sentence, my colleague, Desmond, insists we need… Win to go on record with a victim statement.”

My head whips up. “You want him to fucking relive this in front of strangers? Are you—”

“I’ll do it.”

Jaw hanging, I blink.

“You don’t have to do this.”

He shakes his head. “I do. For me. ”

More protests perch on my tongue; I swallow them down. This is his decision and I’ll stand beside him no matter what. Bringing his hand to my lips, I kiss his palm.

Both of us look to his stepfather.

Richard’s lips press into a line, his throat bobbing as he nods. “I’ll get the detective.”