Chapter 6
Chapter Six
SHAW
Those words were barely out of her mouth before she completely broke down, which made my stomach feel like it was flipping inside out.
“Hey, just pull over—I’m coming to you,” I said. “You shouldn’t be driving in that state.”
“No, you don’t have to do that,” she managed to choke out between sobs, clearly not understanding how un convincing she sounded. At the next the traffic light, she used that stretch of seconds where it was red to catch her breath.
“Ellie. Pull over. Where are you?”
“I’m just gonna go home.”
I blew out a sigh. “How far are you from home?” I asked, and she shook her head, letting out a bark of dry laughter.
“Like twenty minutes. Probably thirty with traffic.”
“Oh shit—you did say you were on my side of town.”
“Yeah. The fries are never good at the location by me. All this over some damn fries I shouldn’t even be eating,” she said, that revelation triggering a fresh burst of tears she tried to immediately calm.
“Shit happens,” I said. “You’re still out here by the desert?”
She sniffed. “Yeah.”
“Turn your ass around and just come to me then.”
“What?” She took her eyes off the road just long enough to look at me through the phone, confused.
“I’m looking at the landmarks you’re passing—if you’re where I think you are, that’s like five minutes from me. Just come over here so you take a bit to calm down, and I know you’re somewhere safe.”
“Shaw, I was just about to get off the phone with you so you could sleep .”
“And now you’re about to roll through here so I can lay eyes on you, and make sure you’re good.”
“Shaw.”
“Ellie, I’m not asking,” I informed her. “Either you can come here, or I’ll be at your door when you get home.”
“Which is even more of an inconvenience for you.”
“Exactly, so you may as well just ride through.”
She blew out another hard sigh, mumbled something that sounded like “ Fine, ” and then with one hand still on the wheel, she used the other to scrub her face dry from the tears. Her missing shades allowed me an unobstructed view of her rimmed eyes, and it really, really pissed me off.
“Hey…you know you can’t be out by yourself like that anymore, right?” I asked. “I don’t even be out like that, girl. I know this isn’t the first time somebody has mentioned that to you. Especially after that shit with Teagan, when her ex ran up on her in that store.”
When we were dating, I had insisted on security for her—had even paid for it myself so I could call it a gift and be offended if she rejected it to overcome any objections she might have.
A little toxic?
Fine, I’d cop to that.
But no shit like this had ever happened back then.
It seemed that since the breakup she decided she didn’t need it— I didn’t cancel the service; I would’ve paid for it indefinitely if it was up to me. But my demands didn’t carry weight like that with her anymore—and I couldn’t help feeling like she’d fired the security because I was the one who put it in place.
There was also though, the insanity of her not thinking it was necessary.
She didn’t think she was big enough yet, which was clearly not the case, and hadn’t been for a long while—even before she started acting.
“I know.” She shrugged, shaking her head. “I just…I don’t like feeling like I need a sitter.”
“Not a sitter. A protector. An insulator against crazy shit like what just happened. I’m going to put somebody on you again.”
“I do not need you to do that.”
“Clearly, you do, ’cause you’re playing with me right now.”
“Playing with you?” she asked. “You know I’m not your responsibility anymore, right?You broke up with me, remember?”
“I don’t remember shit where that is concerned,” I countered. “You said we were friends, right?”
“Yes, but?—”
“But nothing. How close are you now?”
She was quiet for a moment, then admitted, “I’m pulling up to your gate.”
I navigated quickly to a different app on my phone, opening the gate to give her access to the little gated community I called home. It hadn’t always been gated, but some top-secret shit went down with someone moved in last year.
And then there was a gate.
The neighborhood association came around and gave everyone access to the app and codes—I really didn’t think we were living fancy enough for all of that out here, but if it made my shit more secure too, I didn’t have too much complaint.
Once that was done, I glanced down, suddenly wishing that in all my pacing over the last several minutes I’d remembered that I was only wearing a pair of old sweats.
Not even boxers with them.
Shit.
I was halfway to my room to throw something on when the bell rang, and it was a quick decision to not leave Ellie waiting. It wasn’t like it was anything she’d never seen before.
And this wasn’t about that anyway, not for either of us— especially seeing the distress on her face up close. She was clearly distressed, and the arm on her oversized hoodie was torn at the shoulder, and… shit.
Without giving it a second thought, I pulled her inside and into my arms, wrapping her in a hug that seem to flip whatever switch was helping her hold it all together. She just collapsed against me, bawling.
After a few minutes passed, I’d calmed her enough to divert her into the kitchen for a drink. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored tile backsplash, she frowned.
“He was…all over me,” she muttered, sounding disgusted as she pulled the hoodie over her head, tossing it onto the floor. “I tried to pepper spray him, but I barely got his face at all. Just enough for him to let me go.”
“It was on your keys?” I asked, and she nodded as she sat down.
That’s when I noticed it.
A damn bruise.
From where that bitch-ass dude had grabbed her.
“ Fuck, ” I muttered under my breath, mind racing for what I was supposed to do. It seemed like it was spreading and darkening right in front of my eyes, but what the hell did you do for a bruise?
“He grabbed you this hard?” I asked, pulling her out of the apparent daze she’d been in. Her eyes went wide when she looked down, seeing the ugly black and blue blotch on her arm.
“Shit. I hope they can hide this in makeup, or Nolan and Charlotte are going to be pissed.”
“ That’s your first thought?” I asked. “Don’t nobody give a shit about them being pissed. Ellie, you got attacked. We should be getting video footage from the parking lot, and?—”
“Absolutely not going to the police,” she interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “I’m hoping nobody saw it, and it can stay that way. I do not need a single shred of controversy right now. Did you not see what the media just did to Vanessa? Do you remember how they treated Teagan?”
I sighed.
Of course I’d seen the way both women had been crucified for daring to be a victim of violence. There was lots of chatter about what they’d done wrong, could have done different, but not nearly enough about how the people who perpetrated the violence against them could have made different choices.
There was no reason to believe Ellie would get much different.
“I don’t like that shit,” I told her and she shrugged.
“Me either, but it is what it is. It’s what I get for being stupid.”
“Don’t say that shit—it’s not stupid to expect to go eat fries without getting assaulted,” I assured her. “It should really be a bare minimum.”
“But it’s just not where we are.”
“And I still don’t like that shit, now what?” I asked, and she laughed.
“Now nothing ,” she said. Her gaze flicked from my face to my bare chest, to my groin, then back to my face. “Actually, I should probably go.”
“I can put some clothes on,” I offered, already moving. “But you’re not going anywhere, not yet. You’ve barely been here ten minutes. That ain’t enough time for any decompressing.”
“I’m fine. Not even crying like a terrified child anymore, see?”
Again.
She vastly underestimated how wide her eyes actually were, how glossy and red they remained. She absolutely still looked terrified, despite the front she was inexplicably insisting on.
“Humor me. Let me fix you a drink.”
“I can’t drive myself home if you get me liquored up.”
“So be it. I have a guest room.”
She crossed her arms, staring at me for a bit before she shook her head. “Fine. Fix the drink.”
I didn’t waste any time—I went straight to my fridge, grabbing a can of forbidden caffeinated soda. I poured it between two glasses of ice, then topped both off with heavy splashes of Kimble bourbon before I slid one across the counter for her.
She just looked at it.
“What’s wrong?”
Her shoulders dropped, and she shook her head, not looking up until I reached across the counter to force her to look at me.
“I’m cold. And I’m still hungry. He made me drop my fries ,” she sobbed, breaking into a fresh new round. For a second, I was too stunned to react, but I knew it wasn’t really about being cold, or really about the fries.
It was about being violated—that hoodie was a favorite she’d worn for years.
And I would bet good money she’d never visit that restaurant chain again, for fear of triggering memories of that moment.
Even with what most people would call “nothing” having happened…something important had been taken from her.
And for what ?
I rounded the counter to pull her against me again, offering as much comfort as I could while she cried. After a bit, she pulled back and looked at me—at my groin, which was basically at eye level—and then picked up her drink, draining it in one gulp.
“Can I get another one of these?” she asked, already standing up. Before I could answer, she’d reached across the counter to take mine.
I didn’t complain.
After what she’d just experienced, she could have it.
“What do you think the chances are that video of that bullshit isn’t spreading around the internet right now?” she asked, putting the glass back down. “There was no way nobody heard my screaming—those girls that had just asked for a picture, they walked out at the same time. They were probably filming, instead of fucking helping me.”
I hated that she was probably right.
I wouldn’t invalidate her feelings by lying—the chances this would be as compartmentalized as she wanted were low.
In hell.
“I hope that doesn’t happen. But if it does…” when it does, “you know I’ve got your back at every step.”
She nodded, brushing a fresh upswell of tears from her eyes. “I should probably call Pierre. Tell him before he finds out somewhere else.”
“You want me to call him?”
She blinked, hard, and the serene expression she’d been trying to keep on her face broke as she shook her head. “They’re exhausted from PJ’s birthday. I ate too much cake,” she admitted. “That’s really why I was too wired to sleep.”
“Ellie.”
“I know.” She laughed, between sobs. “I should be eating better.”
“What? No ,” I said, moving to where she was. “I’m saying, I don’t think it matters how exhausted they are—he and Logan need to know about this, before they see it on the internet, which…we should expect.”
She nodded. “You’re right. I just… God ,” she huffed, covering her face with her hands. “He…he grabbed me so hard ,” she whimpered. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”
“It didn’t feel like it. It felt so…I didn’t know what he wanted. If he was going to rob me, or…or…”
“But he didn’t,” I said, pulling her into me again. “He didn’t. You managed to think clearly enough to use the tools you had available, and that’s all you could’ve done.”
“What if it wasn’t enough?”
“We’ll never know,” I countered, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. “Don’t let yourself go there.”
“I don’t want to, I promise. But I don’t even wanna close my eyes right now.”
“We’re not sleeping then,” I said immediately. “I’ll call Charlotte first thing in the morning, and they’ll reschedule our scenes, work around us.”
“It’s not that simple.”
I smiled at her. “I love that you didn’t even consider this, but…you aunt is literally one of the studio owners. It’s absolutely that simple.”
Her phone started ringing before she could respond. One look confirmed the worst—it was already out.
“It’s Chloe,” she said.
As in, Chloe McKenna, her PR manager.
“Sit down,” I insisted, pointing to the couch. “I’ll hit Pierre while you talk to her.”
She blew out a harsh, ragged sigh. “I…need water first.”
“I’ll bring it,” I told her, steering her toward the couch. “Answer that call.”
I left her sitting there in a full pout, but she did answer the call.
There was no sense in putting it off.
While she explained everything to Chloe, I intercepted Pierre, who had already started blowing her up.
Somehow, I managed to talk him into staying put.
He believed me when I said I had her, because I did—relationship status be damned. I ended up taking the call from Nubia too—Nubia Perry, Ellie’s aunt—who was already putting steps in place for me and Ellie both to be absent from set the next day.
And then Chloe insisted Ellie put me on the phone.
I listened carefully to the instructions—removing the social media apps before I returned the device, making sure only calls from Ellie’s preset “top ten” could even get through.
I was surprised my name was in that list of numbers, but I didn’t comment on it.
Afterward, I was supposed to ensure two things—that Ellie slept, and that she ate the next morning, neither of which would be a problem.
Despite her aversion to closing her eyes, one look at her made it abundantly clear—the adrenaline was worn off, and she was exhausted.
She took a shower, then dressed in a spare tee and boxers—something she’d done countless times when we were together.
It felt like old times, honestly.
So much so that when she asked if she could sleep in my bed—and if I could stay there with her…I said yes.
I didn’t even have to think about it.