Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Riggs

She's quiet, which is unlike her.

Staring out the window as the trees whip by.

So quiet that I find myself answering her question from before.

"It's not the drinking," I say softly.

Her head swivels, eyes catching mine, and then she's lifting her brows. "But you say I drink too much."

"You do," I blurt.

Fucking stupid.

Her brows pull together, those eyes clouding.

I turn back to the road, exhale sharply through my nose. "It's not the drinking," I say again. "It's that if you drink too much, if you're not in control…you're putting yourself at risk."

I feel her still next to me, the air in the car growing taut.

Reading between the lines.

Putting the pieces together.

"Riggs," she whispers, setting her hand on my thigh. "Did your girlfriend?—?"

I go stiff and suck in a breath.

And I know she gets it then because she pauses…

It's long and sorrowful and?—

Fuck, her face is full of pity when I glance over at her.

"You?" she whispers.

Yes, it happened to me.

I can't give voice to that. I fucking can't.

"Honey." Her fingers tense. "I'm so sorry that was done to you."

I don't know what I expected—maybe for her to pull back, to reject, to add to the shame I already felt. Not this . Not her sadness on my behalf and her continuing to touch me.

"It's not like you're thinking," I say quickly. "I wasn't raped or anything. I just…I used to drink a lot, drink too much really, and?—"

The memory slams into me so abruptly that it steals my breath away, that it sends my mind into a tailspin. Suddenly, I can barely concentrate on the road.

Saying no.

Pushing her away.

My brain so damned fuzzy. My limbs so fucking heavy.

Saying no again. The word almost impossible to form on my tongue.

But I had. I KNOW I had said it. More than once.

"Riggs," Ella says sharply, those fingers squeezing on my leg, her palm coming to my cheek. But it's her scent—all flowers and woman—that pulls me back out, that grounds me.

I know her, even in the darkness.

Snapping back into reality, I realize that, somehow—thank fucking God , somehow —I've found a turnout and stopped the car.

"Breathe," she whispers.

I do just that for long minutes.

"We don't have to talk about it?—"

"No." I clamp my eyes shut. "It's not like you think. I just woke up one morning after really indulging, after taking it too far, and there was a woman in my bed."

Her expression doesn't change and she doesn't retreat to her seat.

Just keeps touching me, grounding me.

"I told her no," I say. "I told her I didn't want it and—" My throat closes up but I push the words out, find myself saying the same thing aloud I've said a thousand times in my own head. "It's fine." I shrug. "I overindulged and everyone does stupid shit when they overindulge. But I drank so much that I didn't use a condom and she gave me an STI. After that, I promised myself I would never be that stupid again. Never get so sloppy drunk that I couldn't control my actions, control my body, my words and thoughts—" I grind my teeth together. "And where I put my dick."

Ella's a statue.

So fucking still that I don't think she's breathing.

Then she unsticks, her chest expanding on a huge breath.

Her fingers flex on my thigh, my face, and then she's abruptly pulling back, popping open the car door, stepping out onto the snow-covered turnout.

Leaving me.

Not good enough.

My stomach has a giant knot in it, but before I can process how truly shitty this feels, I hear?—

" ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!"

I jump, popping open my door in the next second, leaping out of the driver's seat and onto the road just in time to watch her march over to a tree and kick it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she shouts again. "Are. You. Fucking . Kidding. Me?" Punctuating each word with a kick against the thick trunk of the pine tree. She spins, shoving her hands into her hair, expression furious even from this distance.

When she realizes I've followed her from the car, she freezes, eyes going wide.

"Get back in the car, chérie ," I say softly, walking slowly over to her like the cornered animal she is. Too fast and she'll snap again. Too fast and she'll bolt.

Probably too late for that.

Probably, I've already ruined it. Ruined this.

Ruined everything.

"It's too cold to do this right now," I say softly, reaching for her.

But she's already reaching for me, rising on tiptoe, hands on my cheeks, tilting my head down.

Her eyes spear into mine. "You told her no?"

Fear locks my spine in place and I want to tear free of her hold, want to be the one who's kicking the tree, kicking it so hard that it topples over, crushing everything in its shadows.

But I can't move, can't break her hold.

Not when she whispers, not in the form of a question this time. "You told her no."

Words stopper up in my throat, but I manage to nod.

"It wasn't an overindulgence," she says. "It wasn't that you did something stupid. It wasn't your fault. She raped you."

I start to shake my head.

But she tightens the hold on my face. "She did that to you. It's her fault. Not yours. Not ever yours." Then she releases me, takes my hand, and draws me to the car.

But not to the driver's seat.

I freeze, come back to myself. "I'll drive."

She studies my face, and I expect her to argue, but she doesn't, just keeps my hand in hers as she rounds the hood of my car, as she moves to the open passenger's side door. Her lips brush the back of my hand before she slips her fingers free and sits in the seat.

The loss of her touch leaves me wavering.

But only for a moment.

Because then the wind picks up, the frosty air biting at my exposed skin. Fucking freezing. And Ella's door is open.

She must be cold.

I lean into the opening, make sure that all of her limbs are safely tucked inside, and when I see that her seat belt isn't buckled, I do it up for her.

Her hand on my cheek. "Thanks, honey."

My lungs stall. Then inflate.

But I don't say anything as I maneuver out of the car, as I round the hood and get into the driver's seat, but before I can put the transmission into drive again, she covers my hand with hers, says again, "It wasn't your fault."

Christ.

The backs of my eyes burn like motherfuckers.

I nod at her then maneuver back onto the road.

Drive as carefully as I ever had all the way back to her house.

We're silent.

But her voice, her words ring through my mind.

It wasn't your fault.

I've never told anyone—because I thought it was. And wasn't it?

I told her no.

I told her no.

I close my eyes for a heartbeat, force that down, and park in front of Ella's place, opening my door and climbing out, making it around to her side as she puts her foot on the pavement and stands.

Her gaze comes to mine, unfathomable, but she doesn't say anything.

I still hear her voice sliding through my mind.

It wasn't your fault.

We walk up to the front door, side by side, shoulders brushing.

I wait next to her as she punches in the code, as the lock whirs and retracts, as she turns the handle and pushes the wooden panel inward.

But when I start to turn away, to head back to my car, she grabs my arm.

"Stay," she whispers when I rotate to face her.

"Just…stay."