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"Hands where..."
"Connor?"
The name croaked out of me, shock and awe. Like I was seeing a ghost. And I guess, in a way, I was. A ghost from my past. One that didn't belong here.
"Helen?" he asked, voice filled with wonder, uncertainty.
His eyes raked over me for the barest of seconds, taking in my near-nudity before finding the body on the floor, seeming to put things together in a second. "Take him," he demanded of his partner as he moved back toward the door, flicking on the overhead I hated because the fan attached made the light flicker, something that set my nerves on edge.
The harshness made my eyes squint as I watched my would-be-rapist get dragged out the door before I could force my eyes to focus on Connor again.
Officer Collings.
Of the NBPD.
"Helen, what are you doing here?" he asked as he tucked away the flashlight and gun, eyes on me the whole time as I lowered down onto the bed with shaky legs, the adrenaline seeping away, leaving just a mix of fear and confusion in its wake.
"What?" I asked, shaking my head.
"When my father told me about... about what happened, I thought you had finally done it. Gotten away. But here you are. Five towns over."
"I... I stopped for gas. And I... got a room," I hedged, not sure why I wasn't telling the whole truth. "I just... decided to stay. It was safe."
After a jury of his peers decided the murdering son of a murdering son of a bitch belonged behind bars for a lifetime.
This place was just as safe as any.
"Helen," he said a second later, voice doing the cop-thing. All firm and persuasive at once. "I have to ask. You're not dressed..."
"He didn't rape me," I cut him off, watching as he shocked back at the words. I wondered then if it was because he was still green to the force. Or because it was me. "He was trying. I stopped him. I have a right to protect myself," I added to the silence following my words, heavy with what felt like judgment, like condemnation.
"Yes, you do," he agreed, ducking his chin a little to catch my gaze. "You, every woman, has a right to defend herself against that."
"Then why are you looking at me like those bracelets belong around my wrists instead of his?"
"I'm worried about you," he admitted, sitting off the end of the bed. "After what happened with your father. And brother. After... you know. And now you knocked a man unconscious. I'm just worried about where your head is at."
"My head is at the place where it decided not getting raped by that fuck out there was worth the headache he is going to have when he wakes up. That is where my head is at, Collings."
"Don't do that," he said, rubbing his hand across his chest. Like my words hurt. Like they were still capable of doing so.
I should have felt guilty about that.
Hurting this man who had been so good to me, who had saved me through his father, who had cared for me when no one else had.
But I wasn't the girl in the pink and green stripes anymore, the girl in the mustard skirt, the girl who cowered and forced smiles she didn't feel.
I didn't feel bad for my words having barbs, that they snagged him for getting close.
"Don't do what?" I asked instead of acknowledging the motion he made to his heart.
"Talk to me like I'm just some badge."
"But you are a badge," I objected, jerking my chin to his chest.
"But not just a badge. You know that, Helen. Don't look at me like I'm your enemy. I have done nothing but try to protect you."
"I never thank...."
"Helen!" Charlie's voice roared from outside, the sounds of a struggle undeniable, loud to my ears as a mix of worry and relief flooded my already overflowing system.
"Oh," Conor said, the sound sighing out of him, his head nodding with understanding. "I get it now."
"Get what?" I asked, watching as he moved to stand.
"The disdain for me," he said, making a small part of my heart sink.
"I have no disdain for you," I objected.
"We know about Charlie," he told me, making my stomach sink.
"Know what about Charlie?"
"You know," he said, giving me a disapproving head shake. "I thought you'd have had enough of this life but..."
He didn't get to finish his sentence because Charlie was barreling through the door, face a little roughed up. Either from the job. Or the scuffle with the cop outside. Or both.
His blue eyes were frantic, his body tight.
His eyes went to me, taking in my near-nakedness.
"No," he said, the word low, whispered, but savage.
His hands were balling into fists even as he turned back to the door.
"Don't," Connor demanded, moving to block the way, making Charlie shock back a bit. "I get the impulse, but don't. She stopped him," he added, voice a little less firm. "Nothing happened."
