“I’d say so, considering I just made partner.”
Hunter scoffs, but I can’t see anything around Trevor’s rigid back.
“I suggest you leave these ladies alone before your partners get a complaint of sexual harassment against you.” Trevor squares his shoulders, that deep vibrato in his voice doing things to my insides. The sound alone sends shivers up my spine in a “take me home right now” kind of way.
“Oh? And what proof do you have?”
“He has none, but I sure do.” Ashlie nods toward her phone. “Evidence of textualandsexual harassment. And if you mess with her again, I’ll blast this shit everywhere. Smile and wave, Carter Zane.” Trevor steps to the side, and I catch the flash of fear in Carter’s eyes before he reels it back in. I smirk at the glare he sends me, holding his gaze until he clears his throat and looks around the room.
“You take care of yourself, sweetheart.” He raps his knuckles on the table, then straightens his pretentious suit jacket and walks away.
The muscle in Trevor’s jaw flutters wildly, nostrils flared while his eyes stay fixed on the door. It’s not until Carter exits to the parking lot that he squats next to my chair. The hard lines on his face melt into concern when his eyes meet mine. “You okay, Gem?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” I’m more than good, really. Twice now, he’s stepped up to someone in my defense. Both times, it’s left me with this undeniable urge to latch on to him and never let go.Maybe I should stop fighting it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
TREVOR
“Thank you,” Willa says as I buckle my seatbelt.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner.” When I saw Carter touch Willa, play with her hair, it took everything in me not to clock him. Rage boiled through my veins as soon as she bristled at his touch—the clearest sign that I’ve got it bad for her. I was ready to hit first and deal with the consequences later, if it came to that, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, but could you start driving? It’ll be easier for me to tell you everything if you’re not looking at me.”
I start the car and back out of the parking space, but she doesn’t speak until we reach the street. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I try to focus on the road, still pissed over seeing her reaction to that motherfucker.
“Carter was sweet and generous, until he wasn’t. It was day and night. One morning, he woke up as Prince Charming, but by the time the clock struck midnight, he’d turned into a dragon. He latched onto my insecurities and exploited them any time we went out in public. Tried to control what I wore by buying extravagant clothes and guilting me when I didn’t wear them. And mysensitivity to noise”—she shakes her head—“whenever I did something he didn’t like, he’d lie in wait, then torture me with sleep deprivation by blasting all the TVs and stereos at three in the morning. I’ve always had sensory issues, but that has made it infinitely worse the last few years. Then the switch would flip, and he’d try smoothing things over by calling mesweetheartandbeautiful. Hearing them now still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
Shit. This is why she hates the pet names? I thought it was amething, not the result of a traumatic relationship. Glancing at her, I note the tight clutch she has on her fingers while she wrings her hands together. I just want to reach over and slide my hand around hers, raise it to my lips, and kiss away all the pain she’s reliving right now.
“It took him slapping me across the face for me to find my common sense.”
“He put his hands on you?” My voice comes out low while fifty-seven ways to torture Carter and hide the body cycle through my head. “When?”
“Only once. A couple of years ago, right before Chase and Kayla’s wedding…but I handled it.”
“What do you mean, you handled it?”
“I mean, I smashed him over the head with a table lamp.” She lets out a humorless chuff. “He had me by the neck, pinned down on the couch after I ‘embarrassed’ him at one of his firm’s events. I couldn’t get him off. When he slapped me, the closest thing I could reach was the table lamp next to my head. Once he fell to the floor, I left and never looked back. That’s when I figured therapy was a good idea. Still took me a year to start, though.”
“Shit.” I drag a hand down my face. “Did you file a police report?”
“So he could twist it all around and claim I was the aggressor? He works for one of the best domestic violence law firms in the country. Even if I reported, he’s got the cops in his pocket. Besides, he’s too concerned with his image to admit he’d been bested by a woman. He won’t do anything.”
“How can you know that? Guys like him don’t just give up.”
“Because he’s too chickenshit to escalate it. He already knows where I live, where I work, and the only thing he does is text every few?—”
“He’smessagingyou? That’s stalking, Willa!”
“Yeah, I know.” She purses her lips, her gaze dropping to her hands. “The police won’t do anything unless he escalates…which he won’t. He just wants to get under my skin.”
I’m trying to hold it together. Keep the words she’s saying separate from the fuzzy memories trapped in my mind. But the screaming in my head grows around the resounding crash of bottles smashing against walls, finally silenced by crooning ’90s music covering my ears. As soon as I realize my heart is pounding, I reach for the radio dial, turning right to the throwback station.
We pull into Willa’s parking lot, and as soon as I park, I turn to her. “Thank you for telling me. It means everything that you felt safe enough to share it with me, and I…” I take a deep breath and reach for her hand, knowing I’m about to toe the friendship line. “Willa, I’ll spend every day making sure you know you’re a priority. Every single day, Gem. I promise you.”
Tears well in her eyes, but she blinks them away. I give her fingers a squeeze, my heart leaping in my chest when she slides her other hand over mine. “Let’s get inside, Trev. You have a flight to catch.”
