Chapter 43
After I can stand up straight again, Anderson asks, “Where would you like to go? My place? Your place? A hotel?”
“Where are we?”
“New York City. This is the Hell Gate Bridge.”
“Oh.” I look around, trying to find anything familiar. But I don’t know the city well enough. “I’ve only been to Manhattan.”
“It’s close to here.”
“If it’s not too much to ask?—”
“Name it,” his voice is firm, like he’s straining to speak.
I’m too worried about him to ask for the favor. “Are you okay?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Pretty sure I was supposed to ask you that.” But then he buttons down his expression into something colder. “June, do I need to get you to a hospital?”
“No—”
“Did they hurt you?” His voice is barely contained rage.
I shake my head, as much to tell him as to remind myself. “Mostly just scared the hell out of me.”
“Why is there blood on your coat, June?”
“Hmm?”
He points to a spot, and I glance down. I’m alarmed at first, but then my hand aches. “Right. I forgot about that.” Holding up my hand, I show him. “Thought I could try to open the trunk with the emergency latch, but I think they sharpened the metal to discourage that kind of heroics. Just a scratch. I’ll be fine.”
Anderson takes a deeper breath now. I wonder how long it’s been since he took his last one. “Would you like to stay in Manhattan? I’ll book us a suite, and we can stay as long as you like.”
“I’d like to go home.”
“Then I’ll take you there.” He puts his arm around me and guides me to his car. I’m glad for how comfortable it is, because it makes it easy to fall asleep. When I wake up, we’re already at my place. “June, I don’t know where you’re at in your mind, but do you want me to walk you up?”
Slowly, I nod, and a faint smile takes his lips.
The elevator ride up is silent. The last twenty-four hours have felt like a year, and I don’t have much conversation in me. Neither does Anderson, it seems. Not that we should talk about what happened in an unsecure location.
When we get to my door, he asks, “If you want to be alone, I’ll go. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. It’s up to you.”
“Would you sleep better in your own bed?”
“I’ll sleep best knowing you’re alright.”
“Then, if you don’t mind, would you stay with me?”
His shoulders slump a little at that. “I would be happy to.”
We go in, and it’s as if nothing happened. Strange. My place is a little messy, but I’m too weary to give a shit about Anderson seeing my mess. Though, it’s nicer to think about that than it is to think about what just happened to me. What’s a little embarrassment compared to being kidnapped for a day?
My head feels like mush and cotton candy, and I can’t tell if I’m on the verge of breaking down or if I’m simply exhausted. But when I look at Anderson, I feel better and worse. Better because he’s nice to look at, but worse because he looks so fucking worried right now. I mumble, “What is it?”
“Don’t take this for bullying, okay?”
I laugh once and it sounds strange to my ears. Almost mechanical or something. “Sure.”
“You look like shit right now, June.”
“Gee, thanks.”
But he comes close and studies my face. “Are you sure they didn’t hurt you?”
I nod, and the bouncing makes me want to vomit, but I hold it back. “Other than the initial struggle?—”
He growls. Like an animal.
“What was that?”
“Please go on.”
Oh-kay. “Other than how it started, no one really hurt me.”
“Did they …” His lips go tight. “Did they assault you? Sexually?”
“No! Nothing even close to that happened.”
“You can tell me. It’s okay.”
Oh, this poor man. “Anderson, I swear, nothing like that happened. My clothes all stayed in place. No one even said creepy things like that. This was business to them. That’s all.”
Once he believes me, it’s like all the air went out of him. His face isn’t tight from anxiety anymore, so when he goes slack, he looks like he’s aged a decade in the last day. “It’s hard not to let your mind go wild when you’re worried about someone you care about.”
It feels good to smile at that. “I’m not sure if I can eat, but?—”
“What would you like?”
“It’s almost three in the morning. Maybe breakfast? And I don’t have any groceries—I was going to do my shopping yesterday.”
He smiles. “I’ll get waffles delivered.”
“Sounds great. I think I need a shower. I feel gross in my dress and boots right now.”
“No problem. I’ll wait out here for the delivery.” But he pauses. “Unless you feel shaky in the shower. I don’t want you falling?—”
“I’ll be fine. But thanks.” The truth is, as much as I find Anderson comforting, I just want to shower while knowing he’s got my back by guarding my front door. It’s stupid, maybe, but just knowing he’s there to take care of possible intruders makes me feel better.
He smiles and nods. “Anything you need. Anything.”
“I’ll be out soon.” In my bathroom, it’s like time slows down. Catching a glimpse of myself, I realize he’s right. I look like shit. Hollows beneath my eyes and my hair’s a mess. But the worst part is my expression. I look like I’ve been through hell, and I can’t make my smiling muscles work at all.
Why am I still in my coat?
When I go to shrug it off, though, I don’t want to. It feels like taking away some layer of protection I need. But I don’t need it now. I’m home. Anderson is out there to protect me. I’m safe.
Safety feels like a lie.
But I tell myself I have to do this, and I shrug off the coat. Unzipping my boots takes much longer than it should. More self-talk is in order. I’m not removing my armor. Just taking off my boots. I don’t need them to keep me safe. I am safe.
Yep. Still feels like a lie.
I turn on the shower to the hottest setting and watch as steam fills the room. It’s just me and my dress now. I can do this. But when I grab the hem, all my instincts tell me to leave it on. That if I take it off, then I’ll be under attack. The room feels too small. Too tight. Can’t breathe.
I get dizzy and remind myself to breathe. But my lungs don’t get the message. I have to hang onto the sides of the sink and breathe while watching myself in the mirror, ordering Mirror June to breathe steadily.
Maybe I should have made Anderson hang out in here.
But that seems silly. I don’t need a chaperone to shower. I can do this.
To do it, I hurl myself into the shower. As the water runs over me, I reach for the soap to make this fast, and when I try to rub it on my skin, I’m met by my sweater dress.
Right. That’s still on me. Crap.
I blow out a breath and wriggle out of the dress, along with my undergarments. Much harder when they’re wet, but I manage. When I’m under the hot jet of water, I hardly feel it. Maybe I’m numb or in shock or something. I dunno. But at least I can breathe in the shower.
Letting the water beat down on me, reality creeps in. I don’t want it to, but I can’t seem to stop it.
Oh, screw this. Maybe if I go see Anderson, I can keep my shit together.
I turn off the water and grab my robe, ignoring the pile of wet clothes on the floor. Tomorrow June can pick them up. I pad out to the living room and find him setting up the delivery waffles on my kitchen counter. “Hey.”
“So, I don’t know where you keep anything, but they came with butter and syrup, and bacon. Is that okay?”
“Sounds great. Probably. I don’t think I have an appetite right now.”
“That’s fine. We can eat later.”
I smile up at him. “You can eat now, if you want.”
He smiles back. “Not hungry, either.” Anderson puts the boxes into the fridge. “So, what do you want now?”
Flicking my eyes to the door, I see it’s locked, but that doesn’t feel like enough. So, I drag a chair in front of it and wedge it beneath the doorknob. I don’t have any illusions that it would stop them, but that’s not why. “This way, I’ll hear if they try to come in.”
He nods. “I’ll stay out here, too, so?—”
“No, um. Would you sleep next to me?” I wring my hands, remembering the cut on my palm, and not caring at all.
“Of course.”
I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom. When I get under the covers in my robe, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gets onto the covers and lets me keep them between us to spoon me. I take his arm and wrap it over my waist. Feels like where he belongs.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “But if you want to?—”
“It was hell. Nothing compared to what you went through, of course, but for me, this was my version of hell. Not knowing, not being able to help … I never want to go through this again. I will do whatever it takes to avoid this happening again.” He pulls me tighter to him. “Whatever it takes, June, I will keep you safe.”
I’m not sure when I started crying, but when it streaks across my face sideways, I wipe my eyes. He presses a kiss to the back of my head, and that’s just not enough. As I roll to face him, he murmurs, “I’m so sorry, baby.”
But I kiss his cheek and cup the other one. “This wasn’t your fault.”
He blows out a breath. “I know. But it feels like it is.”
I smile at that and kiss his cheek again, before pulling his arms around me and burying my face against his shirt. Anderson holds me tight, and it’s just a few deep breaths of his scent, before I fall asleep in his arms.
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