Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
I wondered if that mattered, though, in the grand scheme of things. He deserved to pay for what he’d done, but who was to say he’d done it to anyone else? Maybe it was just me. Maybe it was because of who I was and who I looked like. Maybe—
“It’s all right,” he said. “I can take a statement anywhere,” he said. “Can I swing by once I have this done?”
“Please,” I said, breathing out in relief. That would give me time to get my head on straight. Give me time to figure out the right thing to do. “I want to tell you something, when you come over.”
“Of course,” he said, squeezing my hand before walking me to my car. “I’ll text before I head over.” He opened my car door for me, ensuring I was safely inside before he gave me a reassuring smile and shut the door.
Safe. Jim made me feel so damn safe.
And after what I just confronted? Safe is the last thing I should feel, but it was impossible to deny.
I might be healing myself and my past, but Jim Harlowe was acting as my safe place to do that hard work, and I couldn’t deny it one second longer.
I was in love with him.
I always had been.
And I didn’t want to waste one more second denying it.
CHAPTER 12
Jim
“And that’s the whole story,” Anne said, tears streaking down her cheeks.
Acid rolled in my stomach, my world tipping on its axis as I listened to her tell me about her past, about what happened right after we broke up, about what that asshole did to her and the spiral she understandably had after.
It wasn’t just the asshole that made her run away from everything she’d ever known or make her disdain for her family grow. It was a culmination of so many things, the pieces all set up like dominoes poised to fall—what happened to her that night was just the tipping point.
“Anne,” I said, unable to form a coherent response. Saying I was sorry wouldn’t change the past and it sure as hell wouldn’t help her now.
I scooted closer to her on the lone piece of furniture she had, a vintage-looking loveseat she’d scored at one of the local markets when she first moved in. Slowly, I wrapped an arm around her, gauging her response to see if she even wanted to be touched after digging up the past.
She leaned into my embrace, holding tight to me.
“You didn’t deserve that,” I said, stroking my fingers through her silken hair. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”
Her body shuddered as she let out another sob, shaking her head against my chest. “You think I would be done crying over this,” she said, her tone angry and sad.
“You feel whatever you need to feel,” I said, knowing I wasn’t one to tell her that one day it would all be better.
I had no clue if it would be, and I’d never give her false hope. But there were truths I could tell her, so I shifted to look into her teary eyes.
“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known,” I said, cupping her cheeks and swiping away her tears with my thumbs. “But crying and feeling the pain doesn’t make you weak, Anne. It makes you human. Asking for help doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human.”
Her family’s expectations her entire life—being the firstborn VanDoren—had given her a knee-jerk reaction to operate at inhuman levels and place unrealistic goals on herself. It was a source of strain for her and her sister even before the incident, because Persephone made living up to those expectations look so easy while Anne had to work at it.
“But I’m the one who ran straight to a bottle,” she countered, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’m the one who chose to behave the way I did after everything. That makes me weak, makes me broken.”
I shook my head, moving my hands from her face down her shoulders until I could take her hands in mine. “Everyone reacts differently to the kind of trauma you’ve endured,” I explained, drawing on my history of being a police officer for years. “I’ve seen it countless times,” I continued. “Things like this happen way too often. It’s awful and gut-wrenching and you never know how the person is going to cope. But there is no wrong way. You simply had to go through the rough of it before you could get to where you are now. There is nothing wrong with that.”
A small, sad sort of smile shaped her lips as she met my eyes. “You’re too good to me,” she said. “You always have been.”
“I’m just me,” I said. “And I’d never be able to treat you any other way than you deserve.”
A sigh slipped past her lips, like unloading the story for me had been another weight lifted off her chest. I was honored she trusted me enough with something she’d kept buried for years, but I still couldn’t shake the instinct to head back to the station and pummel the piece of shit.