Chapter 50
Jesse
I’d almost told Tris I love him before I’d hung up the phone. For that split second, I thought I wasn’t going to be able to help it.
When I heard all his texts come in, one after another after another, I’d gotten this sinking, sick weight in the pit of my stomach.
And when I’d read them, I’d dropped everything and literally ran for the one spot where I knew from experience I’d have enough service for a call.
I should have taken my things with me, but at that moment, all I could process was that the last group of messages from Tris—the ones that told me so clearly between the lines that he was afraid, maybe wasn’t even safe—had a timestamp of over an hour and a half ago.
Nothing since.
I’d been fully prepared to run right out of the library and just leave everything, my new laptop included, behind.
Then Tris had answered right after the second ring.
He’d told me he was safe, and the swirling panic in my gut had calmed enough for me to be able to end the call and go back for my things before making a beeline for the exit.
Without my goddamn phone.
As soon as I’d gotten out of the library, I’d reached into my bag for it so I could call him back. It didn’t matter that he was in his apartment with the door locked. I had to know for sure that he was still safe. Had to hear his voice again.
My phone wasn’t there.
The fifteen or so seconds it took for me to rifle through my bag and pat down my pockets were all I had to spare for looking for it. Someone could find it and turn it in to lost and found. Or not.
There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to waste ten minutes on going back down to the basement of the library where I must have left it behind on the table when I’d shoved everything else into my bag.
I don’t care if Tris thinks I’m overreacting. I practically run the entire way back to our building.
He’s probably right. There’s probably nothing to worry about.
Whether he is doesn’t matter one bit.
He was afraid. He didn’t have to actually say the words for me to know. And even if nothing else comes of this, he has to know that I will always take him seriously. That, opposite of it being some imposition, being able to be there for him is all I want.
My leg is killing me by the time I get to the base of his stairs, but that doesn’t stop me from taking them two at a time up to his door.
“Tris?”
I don’t want to just knock. I want him to know it’s me so he doesn’t go through even a split second of worrying it could be anyone else.
No answer. Just a strange, shuffling sort of sound that makes that lead weight in my stomach lurch and twist.
My hand is on the doorknob, rattling it before I can think, but of course it’s locked.
“Tris? Are you okay? It’s me.”
And then, through the door, I hear him. “I said let fucking go!”
On a tidal wave of adrenaline and panic and rage, I slam my body against the door.
Fuck, it doesn’t even budge.
Isn’t that supposed to work? At least do something? Or are you supposed to kick it down?
“Jesse?” The sound of Tris’s voice cuts through my racing thoughts. Strained sounding. Shaky. Not right.
My pulse spikes with a fresh surge of adrenaline, and I don’t even think. Just throw myself at the door again.
There’s a split second before my shoulder collides when I realize it’s already opening. It’s too late to stop before, hard and fast, the door slams back, cracking into the forehead of the strange man I’m suddenly face to face with.
“The fuck?” he slurs, staggering to the side, one of his hands flying up to clutch at the spot where a bruise is already spreading under his skin.
“What did you do to him?” My fists close around the collar of the man’s shirt, holding him up as he sways on his feet. Fucking Christ, it’s all I can do not to slam him back against the doorframe as I drag him out onto the landing.
His eyes swim in and out of focus as he gapes at me, blinking in a dazed sort of way.
There’s no question in my mind that this bastard that I just heard Tris half-beg, half-order to let him go could be anyone but fucking Josh.
The thought of his hands on Tris, of what he might have been doing, has me losing my grip on sanity as I tighten my grasp on his collar and give him a vicious shake.
“Sunshine.”
Tris—
My heart is in my throat as I whip my head around to see him standing in the doorway. His hair is a mess and his eyes are huge, bigger than I’ve ever seen them. Across the left side of his face, a livid red mark stands out shockingly against his too-pale skin.
“Don’t you ever,” I turn on Josh again with another shake, “come near him again.” One last shake and I let go, shoving him away from me, away from Tris, hard enough that he trips and has to catch himself on the railing to keep from toppling down the stairs.
I don’t have another thought to spare for him as he stumbles his way down to the alley below. All that matters is— “Tris—”
He’s still standing in the doorway, chest moving visibly with his ragged, erratic breaths. I only just stop myself from launching forward and dragging him into my arms, suddenly uncertain what I should do.
If he’s hurt, afraid—
The next moment though, he collides with me, almost knocking me backward before he’s reaching up, twining his hands behind my neck, stroking his thumbs over my skin. “You’re here.”
He buries his face against my shoulder, and something in my chest splits open, raw and throbbing.
Because I wasn’t. Not when he needed me, and, try as I might, I can’t make myself stop replaying over and over again in my mind all the horrible scenarios of how differently tonight could have ended. Of what could already have happened…
“I’m here.” I wrap my arms around him, squeezing my eyes shut against the tight ache in my throat as I press my cheek against the silky softness of his hair.
For long seconds, I just hold him, breathing in the sweet, familiar smell of vanilla and peaches and mint as I struggle against the sting of tears prickling the corners of my eyes and the choking sob threatening to claw its way out of my chest.
It should be me reassuring him, and yet, just holding him in my arms is soothing away the panic and fury and fear that had been boiling through me seconds ago. Except, I have to know— “Did he hurt you?”
His body trembles slightly on his exhaled breath. My own breath catches, burning in my chest, until he shakes his head. “Nah. Not really. Just a couple bruises. My face, and he kinda twisted my wrist when I tried to get away from him.”
A flash of icy-hot rage bursts through me. Just that?
“Jesus Christ, Tris,” I close my eyes, breathing out slowly, trying to get a grip on myself. “Let me see your wrist?”
“It doesn’t hurt anymore. Not really,” he hedges as he reluctantly unlinks his hand from around the back of my neck to show me his wrist. It’s slightly swollen, ringed in red, with distinct marks of fingers just visible along the underside when I gently turn it over. “Everything moves just fine, see?”
“I should have pushed him down the fucking stairs.”
“Shh, Sunshine.” He tugs his hand out of my loose grip and reaches up to cup the side of my jaw.
The soft stroke of his fingers over the rasp of stubble on my skin does what nothing else could, soothing the edges of the white-hot rage that’s threatening to choke me.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m okay. It could have been way worse.”
Of fucking course it could have been way worse.
My stomach lurches, and I don’t know what’s tearing me up more; to hear Tris dismiss what happened like that or to think about how true what he’s just said is.
“He said he’d come to bring me back to Tucson.
” A shudder runs through his body, and his voice falters.
Against my chest, I can feel his breathing picking up.
“Like he actually thought he was doing me this big fucking favor, you know? Said he’d let me make everything up to him, and then he grabbed me and—”
My arms tighten convulsively around him.
“You know what I did, sunshine?” He lets out a shaky, brittle laugh.
“I kneed the fucker right in the junk. Hard as I could, and it felt…it felt fucking fantastic. And then he just—Jesse, he just let me go. It was just so fucking easy, except I didn’t know he would—” A hysterical laugh shakes him, turning into what sounds like a sob as he drops his forehead against my shoulder again.
“Oh my god,” he gasps, tangling his hands in my sweater like he’s trying to hold me here with him. Like he doesn’t know that nothing in the world would make me let go of him.
“Oh my fucking god, Jesse. I’ve never— Fuck— I— How the fuck did I…” He cuts off with a choked sound, shaking his head against me.
His breathing is choppy and too quick against my chest, and he’s shaking so hard I can feel it vibrating through me. I don’t know what to do besides just hold him. Run my fingers through his hair. Give him this space to fall apart with the knowledge that he’s not alone.
I want him to know— “You’re safe, Tris. I promise.”
He nods against my shoulder, and another hysterical laugh bursts through his ragged breathing. “I know.” His arms tighten around me. “I know I am now. I just can’t believe I fucking did that.”
“You’re amazing,” I whisper, nuzzling against his hair.
“Am I though?” Even with his face hidden, I can feel the way his eyebrows draw together.
“’Cause there’s this part of me that feels so stupid, Jesse.
I spent all that time, two fucking years, afraid of him.
Letting him do whatever the fuck he wanted to me, say whatever the fuck he wanted.
Letting him make me think whatever the fuck he wanted me to think.
And then in the end, it was just so damn easy. ”
“I don’t think it was easy, Tris. I think it was brave and brilliant, just like you are. Like everything you’ve done, all your life, in spite of how not easy it’s been.”
“I just wish,” his breath hitches and shakes. “I wish I’d stood up to him before, you know?”
“And I wish you’d never had to.” I smooth my hands down his back, squeezing my eyes shut and swallowing hard against the ache of how very much I mean those words. “None of it changes the truth though. You are amazing.”
With a soft sigh, his body relaxes into me. He’s still shaking, but his breathing is smoother now. A little slower.
The quieting of his body calms me too, bringing me back to myself.
When I press a kiss to the top of his head, he pulls back, just enough to meet my eyes.
My throat squeezes painfully tight at the sight of the faint purple of the fresh bruise that’s starting to bloom under the red stain across his cheek, and the fingers I can’t help brushing over the spot tremble. “I’m just so sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It wasn’t ‘cause you didn’t care,” he shakes his head as he slips his arms back around my neck, and for the first time tonight, a real smile spreads across his face. “And you’re here now. You love me.”