“Do you want toast?” Reed called, not even turning around to see me walk out. He didn’t wait for my answer, putting two slices in the toaster on the counter.
“Are you seriously making me breakfast right now?” I asked.
“Already checked on Mushu and gave him breakfast, too.”
My heart fluttered seeing this man with bare feet in the kitchenette, cooking over the stove for me. No one other than Dad ever made me breakfast. Not even my own mother.
Reed plucked the bacon from the pan, laying it out on a plate with a paper towel to soak up the grease.
“Here.” He turned with a mug of coffee in his outstretched hand. I reached for it, our fingertips brushing while his eyes tracked over my body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
“Thank you.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, wondering if I was going to throw up after all.
Reed gave a single nod. “Two sugars and a splash of milk, right?”
He knew how I made my coffee. I shuddered a breath. Why was getting my coffee order right making my chest tight? “Right.”
“Let’s sit and eat, and then I need to talk to you about what happened last night.” The muscle in his jaw twitched and he averted his gaze, turning back to the toast that popped up.
“That doesn’t sound good.” Anxiety twisted my gut. I had a sickening feeling that what happened last night was bad, and the reason I couldn’t remember anything had nothing to do with how much I drank. “What happened last night?”
I immediately started replaying everything I remembered. The last thing I recalled was heading to the bar … or was it dancing with someone on the dance floor? And then making a beeline for the bar to get another drink. I think … it was only my second drink of the night, or was it my first? My heart rate sped up, my breath leaving my chest in little gasps. Why couldn’t I fucking remember?
“I only had two drinks, I think.” I’d heard of girls getting roofied in college, and maybe it happened on the circuit, too, but I was always so careful who I got drinks from. “I bought that last drink myself.” How could someone have gotten something in my drink? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force my mind to recall the night. Did I turn away from my drink at any point while I was at the bar? Maybe? “I can’t fucking remember anything.” I was starting to get frustrated with myself that I didn’t know what happened. I was on the edge of panicking.
“Let’s sit down,” Reed suggested, plating our food and setting it down on the table.
I slid onto the bench, and Reed sat down across from me. I set my coffee down, suddenly not wanting it or the food in front of me. A wave of nausea was threatening to overpower me.
“Please, just spit it out.” I was growing impatient.
Reed’s eyes were hard, as if he was remembering what I couldn’t. He rested his elbows on either side of his plate and laced his fingers together, his gaze intent on me. “When you hadn’t texted me by midnight, I came looking for you.”
“Just like you said you would.” The lump in my throat stung.
Reed nodded. “You weren’t at the bar anymore. Christian and Kale didn’t know where you’d gone, so we went looking for you.”
“Did he—didhehave me?” I swallowed the vomit. I hated throwing up. I’d much rather swallow it. I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, letting it settle me.
“He had you,” he said matter-of-factly, knowing I just needed to hear the truth. One thing about Reed was that he was a straight shooter, and I was so appreciative of that. I needed someone who was willing to just rip off the Band-Aid and tell me like it was. “But I caught up to him and stopped him before he could take you.”
My nose stung, and my mind immediately jumped to the worst case. “Oh, my fuck! He could have raped me.” I had to say it out loud. I had to speak my thoughts into existence, or I’d spiral.
Reed shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t have. There is no scenario here where I’d ever let that happen.”
“Reed, he drugged me and took me away from the bar.”
“He put something in your drink, you’re right, but there is no way in hell he would’ve ever walked away with you. I was coming after you no matter the cost.”
“Fuck.” I dropped my forehead into my palm, propping it up to keep myself from passing out. “You could’ve been too late.”
He reached over to me, his hand resting over the one still clutching my coffee. “Look at me,” he said softly. I lifted my head, my gaze finding his for a moment. “I will always come after you.” I could almost hear him swallow down the lump in his own throat.
Pain was etched all over his face. He was beating himself up about this.He was almost too late.That’s what that look told me.
“You stopped him?”
“We won’t be seeing him again.”
