She squeezed her eyes to stop the fresh wave of tears. The anguish in his voice was too much, too real.
“You have to report him to the university,” he continued. “We need to call the police.”
“No.”
He looked stunned as if she had just slapped him. “You can’t let him get away with this.”
“No,” she repeated, stronger this time.
“Why the fuck not?”
He was so angry, so desperately angry. And something inside her crumbled, realizing it was such a simple answer to him. It would never occur to him that reporting Aidan wasn’t a solution she wanted. That, to her, it would just mean reliving the worst moments of her life over and over – and this time, trying to convince everyone else that they even happened at all. And, in the end, it most likely wouldn’t change the outcome anyway – how many rich white boys had done the same, or worse, and walked away unscathed? She didn’t have it in her to fight that fight. She didn’t need to see him pay for hurting her. What she needed was to take back control, to build herself a life where Aidan Dietrich could never again throw her world into chaos.
She took his hands in hers, pressing her fingertips to his pulse point and steadying her breathing against the pounding beneath his skin. “It wouldn’t be about what he did. It would be about whatIdid - or didn’t do.”
“You didn’t –”
“Do you know how many cases like this end with an arrest, never mind a conviction?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “One percent.”
“That can’t be right.”
“It’s not. But it’s true. They would dissect every stitch of clothing I’ve ever worn, analyze every guy I’ve ever flirted with. They’d dig up every guy I’ve ever let touch me and ask what I allowed them to do to me, what gets me off.” He gripped her hands, shaking his head. “They’d want to know why I didn’t report him back in December, why I didn’t present myself for an invasive medical exam and turn my clothing over to the police as evidence. I’d have to tell this story over and over and over to people who have no interest in believing me and would want me to repeat the most humiliating details over and over so they can see if they can trip me up. They’d ask me if I’msureI didn’t consent. They’d suggest I made himthinkI had given my consent and I was just regretting it now. Or they’d say maybe I was too drunk to remember consenting. And that’sbeforeMr. Dietrich’s very expensive attorney gets involved.”
His forehead was creased in anguish, but she pressed on.
“Every decision I’ve ever made will be torn apart and in the end it won’t change anything, Liam,” she said, her voice breaking on his name. She’d never wanted to tell him any of this.He’ll never see me the same way again,she thought.Now all he’ll see is the ways I’m broken.“I shouldn’t have had so much to drink that night, and I shouldn’t have gone home with him. I shouldn’t –”
“This is not your fault,” he rasped, squeezing her hand.
“I can’t do it,” she said. She was so tired, the weight of her confession making her body feel heavy and she just wanted to go back to sleep. But she had to make him understand. “I have no interest in trading what little peace I’ve found about that night on the off chance that justice will be served. I don’t owe anyone my story, least of all a system set up to work against me from the start, and certainly not at the cost of my own wellbeing. I go to therapy. I live my life.That’show I get back what he took from me. Not in a court room or a lawyer’s office, but out there in the open, building a life for myself.That’show I move on.”
He cursed under his breath, the hard edges of his stare softening. He took her face in his hands and held her gaze, his agony etched into every line of his face, the hard planes of his jaw. His fingers twined in her hair and he brushed a lingering tear from her cheek with his thumb, a firm determined stroke.
“You are worth so much more than that,” he said. “You hear me? You areeverything.And I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
He kissed away another tear and pulled her to his chest, nestling her against him in a cocoon of warmth and the soothing solidness of his body. She fell asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat railing against the constraints of his rib cage.
Chapter Thirty
After Min fell asleep, Liam slipped from her arms, retreating to his office. He spent the next hour researching, trying to find some way to prove Min wrong, that she could report Aidan without having to go through the hell she’d described. That it would be worth it. After hours of Googling, combing newspaper articles and the university handbook, he’d come up empty.
He should be able to fix it, to protect her, if not as her lover than certainly as her professor. But he saw no way to guarantee Aidan’s punishment, even if Min filed a report. And he wouldn’t ask that of her.
Liam leaned his elbows on his desk and dropped his head into his hands. He couldn’t bear to see Aidan’s name on the theater– not knowing what he now knew. And he couldn’t stop it without Min reporting Aidan – which wasn’t an option. He’d have to find another way. There had to be a way.
When had this gotten so complicated?
When you let yourself fall in love. He recognized the voice in his mind immediately as that of his father. And while he brushed it away, he couldn’t deny the niggling doubt at the edges of his thoughts. If he hadn’t gotten so close to Min, he wouldn’t be in this position, stuck between the woman he loved and the career he’d always wanted.
“Everything okay?”
Liam looked up to find Min standing in the doorway to his office, his t-shirt stretching over her curves.
“Of course,” he said, holding out his hands to her. She stepped between his legs, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She pulled his head against the soft pillow of her belly. “I should be asking you that,” he murmured against her. “Are you alright?”
“I’m okay,” she said. He hated the temerity in her voice. “Are you… I mean…” she struggled to form her question.
Liam pressed his lips above her belly button. “Just say it.”
