Bent not Broken (118 page)

“Stop. Please,” I cry out, snapping my legs together as tightly as I can. Tears leak from my eyes and roll down the sides of my face and into my hair. “Please,” I cry, pulling my hands over my face.

He freezes, but does exactly as I ask him. He crawls up to me in a panic and pulls me into his arms.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? God, please tell me I didn’t hurt you.” I can hear the panic and concern in his voice. He’s squeezing me into his chest, hugging me and rocking me.

Shaking my head no, a giant sob breaks free; I pull out of his arms, rolling to my side. Pulling my skirt down, I still feel so exposed. Landon pulls me into him again as I fight him, trying to break free from his grasp, but he won’t let me go.

“Shh… it’s okay,” he says over and over again, holding my head to his chest while I shake and cry. “Jess, talk to me. What happened? What did I do?”

I can’t answer him, because it’s not him; it’s me. I cry for what seems like hours. Landon never loosens his grip on me, but every few minutes, he squeezes my arm, or kisses the back of my head to let me know he’s still there. As embarrassed as I am, I feel safe with him, and I’m not ready to leave the safety of his arms. It’s the same feeling I felt with Gabe—safe—and that’s comforting to me, yet selfish, I know.

My breathing finally settles as my crying subsided minutes ago. Landon shifts slightly on the bed, still holding me, not loosening his grip on me. In one swift move, he pulls us up to a sitting position. He rests his back against the large wooden headboard on his bed and pulls me tightly against him, my back to his chest.

Loosening his grip a little, he runs his hands up and down my arms in a move to comfort me. I feel him press his lips against the back of my head, leaving them there before pulling his lips away and resting his forehead against the back of my head.

“Talk to me, baby girl, please,” he begs. His voice is full of concern. “Please tell me what happened.”

I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the fact that I’m hiding behind a façade that I am okay because I’m not. Something inside me actually wants to tell him, to be honest with someone other than Dr. Peterson. My heart races, but this time, I force myself to calm down. Taking two deep breaths, I clear my throat and, with a swallow, I murmur, “I was raped.”

Chapter 39

Landon

I honestly don’t know if I heard her correctly. I push her forward slightly and, turning her by her shoulders to face me, her head drops forward and her long brown hair hangs loosely, covering her beautiful face. I realize I’m gripping her upper arms rather tightly, but I’m so afraid she’ll run away from me.

“Look at me,” I say quietly, yet firm. I mean it. She shakes her head from side to side in little movements.

“Jessica, look at me.” I pronounce each word softly. Her chest is heaving in and out, and I see tears dripping from her face onto her bare legs, which are crossed in front of us. Slowly, she lifts her head, tears running down her cheeks like little streams, and our eyes finally meet. The large green irises appear even greener, as the whites of her eyes are stained pink from her crying.

Releasing one of her arms, I use my free hand to wipe the tears from each of her cheeks, and then place my hand back on her arm to hold her up gently. “I need you to repeat what you just said to me.” I swallow hard. My mouth has gone dry as I wait for her to repeat what she said. I know what she said, but I fucking pray to God that I heard her wrong. Her head drops again slightly, but this time, I catch her chin and hold her head in place.

“Baby, talk to me.” As I lift her chin a little higher, her eyes finally meet mine. With a deep breath, she mutters those three words that cause my stomach to clench again.

“I was raped,” she whispers again. This time, her head doesn’t fall forward, but she shifts her eyes away from me; she doesn’t want to look at me. Large tears continue to fall from her eyes and down her cheeks. I’ve never seen such large tears. I can feel her body trembling underneath my grip as I watch her lip and chin quiver. My stomach is in knots, and if I wasn’t so concerned about her state of mind, I’d fucking punch something. To see this perfect girl so scared, so broken, kills me.

“When?” I ask, not sure I really want to know the answer or that it really matters, but it’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth.

“Three months ago,” she replies quietly, in between short gasping breaths, and I inhale sharply at how recent that was.

My body is overcome with anger, and hate roils its way through my veins. I pull my hand away from her chin and release her arms. Wrapping both of mine around her, I pull her into my lap, cradling her. Without thinking, without asking, I kiss her forehead repeatedly. Small, soft kisses. Holding her, I think about the animal that could do this to another person, but especially to Jess. As a police officer, my mind is flooded with many questions I want to ask her; Did they catch him? Did she know him? But as the man that loves her, I just want to comfort her.

I replay every encounter I’ve had with her, thinking about the last couple of months of getting to know her. Her behaviors and moods make more sense. Every bad mood, every snarky response, every downcast eye, every time she’s pulled away; her trust issues have all been the walls she’s constructed to protect herself. I know these walls, but for very different reasons.

She pulls herself out of my lap, and I let her go. I want her to feel safe and not constrained. She positions herself cross-legged in front of me and grabs a small pillow, placing it on her lap, over her short skirt. Her hands are twisting around each other, shaking on top of the pillow. I reach out and stop both of her hands with one of mine. Looking up at me, I see it. The sadness that has always been there, but now I recognize the pain behind it.

“I need you to listen to me for a minute and not say anything, please,” I beg her. I need for her to let me talk before she says anything. But most importantly, I need her to trust me.

“Okay,” she says, her voice still trembling.

“If I had any idea, whatsoever, that this had happened to you, I would never have touched you like that. I need you to know that I would never take advantage of you, or pressure you to do anything that you weren’t comfortable with.”

She nods her head at me and maintains eye contact. “You also know that what happened to you wasn’t your fault, right?” She nods her head again, and her eyes fill with tears.

“Will you tell me what happened?” I ask her, hoping that she trusts me enough to tell me. Dropping her eyes again, she looks at our hands intertwined on the pillow that is sitting on her lap. For what feels like minutes, we sit. Her eyes are downcast and focused on our hands, which remain linked in a tight knot. With a gentle squeeze and a deep breath, she quietly starts talking. I hold my breath and hang on every word she’s speaking.

With her bottom lip quivering and her chin in a small pucker, I see the strength and bravery in the words she’s whispering to me. I take in every minor detail from the name of the park she’s running in to the song she’s listening to on her phone.

For the next hour, she tells me every last detail of what happened to her. There are times I don’t know if I can bear the details, but I don’t stop her. This is her story and she needs to tell it. At times, I’m overcome with sadness and other times, I’m overcome with anger…for her. But it’s when she speaks of Gabe that I’m overcome with jealousy.

Silence fills the space around us. I don’t know if she’s done talking or gathering her thoughts, so I give her time. She releases her death grip on my hand and lies down on the bed, her head propped on my pillow. She just stares at me, blinking slowly. She has spoken nonstop for the last hour and didn’t cry. I’m overwhelmed for her. Sliding off the bed, I walk to my dresser. I pull out a white tank top undershirt and pair of boxer shorts that will undoubtedly be too big for her, but I take them to her anyway.

“Change into these. I’m going to go get you some water and Tylenol.” I hand her the tank top and boxers.

Opening my bedroom door, I find her sitting on the side of the bed, her long legs dangling out from the wide opening of my boxer shorts. My tank top fits her snugly, showing every curve of her upper body. I hand her the two Tylenol. She pops them and swallows with a sip of water. She stands up and starts walking toward the door.

“Jess, take my bed, please. I’ll sleep on the couch.” With a slight smile, she doesn’t argue, but walks over to the far side of the bed. Pulling the covers down, she stands next to the bed, looking at it. I turn to leave the room and hear her slide into my bed and under the covers.

“Wait. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

For just a moment, I’m overcome with happiness. Not because she wants me to sleep with her, but because she feels safe with me. She trusts me. I feel a tug at my heart, which is such a foreign feeling for me, as I walk back toward the bed. Sliding into bed, I leave my cargo shorts on and reach to shut off the small table lamp. Careful as I lie down, I am sure to keep my distance from her to give her as much space as she wants or needs.

Raising my arms above my head, I relax into my place. Within seconds, she wiggles over and wraps herself around me, her arm across my chest and her long legs twisted in between mine. She’s pressed up against my side, and her face is pressed to the side of my chest.

I lower my arms from above my head and twist slightly to wrap myself around her. It’s comfortable and peaceful.

“Landon?”

“Yeah, baby girl?”

“Thank you,” she whispers, her lips pressed to my chest.

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“For not running away from me. For listening to me and caring about me,” she replies.

“It sounds like you have a lot of people that care about you,” I whisper. Listening to her breathing settle into short, shallow breaths, I know she’s asleep. Feeling her heart beat against my chest, I close my eyes and feel a sense of contentment. For the first time in my life, I decide that I’m going to do the right thing, even though it may be the hardest thing I ever do. I’m letting her go.

****

I could love waking up to her warm body wrapped all around me every morning. Her long legs are still tucked in between mine, and her arm is tightly wrapped around my chest. There is absolutely no way I’m going to be able to slip out of bed without waking her. Running my index finger down her arm, I quietly whisper, trying to wake her without startling.

“Baby girl, time to wake up.” I continue to run my finger up and down her arm as she starts to rouse. Rolling her arm and chest off of me, she slides her legs out from mine so that she is now lying flat on her back. Rubbing her eyes, she mumbles something inaudible and rolls over onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow.

I want so badly to touch her, to finish what we started last night, but then I remember the promise I made to myself.
Let her go
. I rub her back gently and lean in close to her ear.

“Time to get up, baby girl,” I whisper again, brushing her hair off of her shoulders and back, sweeping it over to one side, so I can see her face.

“Why?” she grumbles.

“We’ve got somewhere to go,” I say, pushing myself off the bed.

Rolling over, she opens one eye and scrunches her face at me.

“Who’s ‘we’? Because I have nowhere to be this morning.” She smiles the cutest smile at me. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I’m cautious of how close I am to her. I grab her hands and pull her up into a sitting position.

“I have an appointment and I want you to come with me.”

“An appointment? It’s a Saturday. The dentist is closed and the doctor’s offices are closed.” She’s so damn cute when she gets all sarcastic. “What kind of appointment?” she asks curiously.

“It’s a surprise. Just please get up. I need to get you home and changed so you can go with me, okay?” She grumbles and throws herself back down on the bed.

“Fine,” she mumbles as I hop off the bed and walk toward the bathroom.

“I mean it; we’ll be late. Up! Get dressed and be ready to go when I’m done. I’ll take you home so you can shower and change.”

Shutting the bathroom door behind me, I hear her grumble again. The shower is on and steaming up the bathroom. Brushing my teeth quickly, I step out of my shorts and into the hot shower. I didn’t sleep well last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Jess told me, and I just wanted to hold her, and remember how she felt in my arms. Rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I feel a rush of cool air drift across my body, and I hear the click of the shower door before I see her standing in front of me. All of her naked, tanned perfection.

“What are you doing?” My voice is tense. Sighing, she takes two small steps forward, and our bodies are mere inches from each other.

“You’re in a hurry. I thought this would save us some time.” Taking a step back, I reach above me to adjust the showerhead so that the water is coming down right between us. Turning around so her back is to me, she tips her head back, letting the hot water run through her long brown hair. I can’t help but look at her long back, all the way down to her ass. Every inch of her screams “sexy.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I say, trying to be gentle in my delivery. Turning back around, she closes her eyes and steps forward into the stream of water, letting it run down her face. I watch the trail of water as it runs down her face, over her chest, and off her tight nipples. My mind wants her out of this shower, but my body wants to take her up against the wall. It’s a battle of willpower for me.
Fuck.

Reaching around me for the bottle of shampoo, she leans in, pressing her breasts against my chest. I can feel her nipples brush against me. I try to act unaffected, taking a step back from her, but my body defies me. I’m instantly hard.
Fuck
. Again.

She takes notice of my condition and smirks, lathering the shampoo in her hair. Turning around again, she tips her head back into the water, rinsing the shampoo from her hair. Reaching for the sponge, I flip the cap on the body wash and squirt a decent amount. Flexing my hand, I work the body wash into the sponge and press it to her back.