In his final moment of freedom, his attention drops to Summer, who’s still staring at her lap. His eyes soften in a way that combines wonder and longing.Disgusting fuck.
My hand slides through the dark strands of her hair as I prove to him why he’ll never touch her again. That curiosity can burn in the depths of prison, and if I learn she’s even a passing thought in his head, I’ll lock myself down there with him and rip it out.
The door in the corner of the room opens; he’s pushed through, and then it slams shut.
“It’s over,” I whisper as the audience begins clearing out. My hand rubs up and down her arm, over the numerous scars. “You did great. You’re so fucking strong.”
Breath shudders against my neck for a final time before she lifts her head. Beyond her, my lawyers are watching, probably waiting to speak to me, but until my girl feels well again, they’ll wait.
Her red-rimmed eyes are a striking difference from the black eyeliner that’s been smudged from her tears and rubbing as she exhales years of pain. “This feels like it shouldn’t be real. How is it even possible? Years—” She chokes on the word, swallowing. “It’s taken years. Why didn’t I do this sooner?”
“Hey.” I cup her face, ensuring I’m all she’s looking at so she can read my expression, which pleads for her to end the self-blame. “Regret dims what’s happened today. Don’t let it overshadow your relief. You came forward and put him away, which took strength. Twenty years of silence has ended, darling.”
Her sniffle shifts into an amused snort. “Let’s be real. You made all this possible.” She glances towards the team of suited lawyers waiting nearby.
My finger moves beneath her chin to angle her face up. Her lips are full and red; they tempt me so much, curious to see how much darker her skin will get when I bite it. It’s her eyes that ground me, though, quelling the rage that constantly clings.
I’m taking advantage of the fact she allows me to touch her at all. Her skin has always been the softest thing in the world to me, the sensation that erases everything else.
Possessiveness incites at the thought that someone dared harm this woman. Today removed a major stressor, and a year ago, I got rid of the deadbeat who was stringing her along. He didn’t take my first three threats seriously, conveyed when he initially revealed interest, but appearing at his work late one night to break his fingers finally did it. He never messaged her after that, and she assumed he lost interest.
It's been like that for years. A guy shows her attention, I make them go away.
“You mean everything to me, Summer. You’re my best friend. The suffering you endured in silence horrifies me, but it’s over now. That’s why I did it.”
Her gaze flicks to my chest and back up, her teeth dragging over her bottom lip. She’s doubting my words without saying so.
“You probably saved other women too.”
That cracks a bit of a smile. “I like the sound of that.” Around us, conversations begin muting as people leave the courtroom. She straightens from my hold. “Can we go? I’d rather not stay here longer than necessary.”
The day has been trying, starting early this morning when I dragged her from my bed.Mybed, because I refused to leave her alone last night, aware the dorm room she calls home isn’t a conductive environment to avoid panic attacks.
I’m quick to tuck her into my side when she follows me into the aisle. A few people centre on the Westwood heir standing with someone not drenched in pearls and wealth—mainly because she won’t allow me to. It took years of building her self-esteem and teaching her to not care about others’ opinions.
We’re not a couple yet, but they’ll see this girl is mine, nonetheless. Mine to protect, mine to uplift.
One of the lawyers sidesteps the group to head our way, but I stop his advance with a shake of my head. “Contact my father with further details.” With the case shut, caring for Summer is more important.
I lead her from the courthouse through the side entrance to bypass the asshole reporters who got wind of the story.
She reaches the car first. “I probably should have slept at my place last night so I could have taken a bus in this morning. Then you wouldn’t have to make this trip.”
Placing my hand on top of the door, I fence her between me and the vehicle so she doesn’t bolt. Half our friendship is Summer convinced it’s a game and me reassuring her it’s not. Her low confidence is something I build up hourly, forever fighting her doubts.
“Don’t talk like that. Besides, did I not say I’d be here every step of the way? Do you honestly feel you’d be fit to take a bus home right now?” Red blossoms on her cheeks, answering me. “Exactly. Get in, buckle up.”
After starting into the direction of my apartment, she reaches over to rest a hand on my arm. “Can you take me home? It might sound stupid, but I’d rather be alone.”
Summer alone could lead to unhealthier hobbies, but denying her is really fucking hard, because she’s too damn stubborn. If home is what she desires, there are other methods to keep her from adding to the scars on her arms.
I turn the car around and drive slower, trying to keep her with me for longer. My deep inhales are filled entirely of Summer’s perfume—of coffee and flowers—and it eases my grip around the steering wheel.
We pull up to the university’s grounds, then to Summer’s dorm. She originally paid for a smaller room with a roommate, but after my generous donation to the school, they upgraded her to a private room. My argument for her to move into mytwo-bedroom apartment is ongoing, because she refuses to ‘take advantage of my kindness’.
Owning her isn’t the kindness she assumes.
“What do you think Dad is doing right now?” she asks in a small voice as I park and switch the car off but keep the doors locked.