Page 58 of Gave Proof Through the Night

"One of those hockey players," Hobbs says, triumphant, like he’s just solved a crossword. “Here for that tournament.” He looks back at me, delighted with himself. “Ohhh. It’s all starting to make sense now.”

Jeremiah squares his shoulders, appearing even taller somehow. “I suggest you leave before I have to call someone to physically remove you.”

“Ha! See this?” Hobbs jabs two fingers at a badge clipped to his belt, puffing his chest out like it’s a medal of its own. “This gets me into anywhere I want in DC. Try that with your gold medal, brainless jock.”

“Whoa,” Jeremiah says, low, and I can hear the leash on his temper fraying by the syllable.

“Hobbs. Stop.” My voice comes out squeakier than I mean it to.

“Oh, it’s last names now, is it?” Hobbs’s gaze slides back to me, slow and deliberate. “Armitage.”

He lifts two fingers to his own eyes and then points them at me, an ugly little I’m watching you gesture, and even though every instinct in my body wants to bolt, I make myself stand there and take it, chin up, because flinching is a gift I’m not giving him twice in one lifetime.

He backs up, straightens his jacket one more unnecessary time, and disappears down the sidewalk without looking back. I watch him go until he turns the corner, until my shoulders finally unlock from somewhere up near my ears.

Jeremiah bends down, retrieves Great Expectations off the concrete, and brushes the cover off before he straightens up.

Then he hugs me, and suddenly I’m folded against a chest, solid and warm. His heartbeat is going hard and fast right under my ear as his arms come around me slow and careful like I might startle if he moves too quickly. And I realize, somewhere in the part of my brain that isn’t currently short-circuiting, that I cannot remember the last time someone hugged me like this.

This is a whole-body cocoon, and I sink into it before I decide to, and the protective shell in my chest, the shell I built a long time ago out of spite and self-preservation and plain loneliness starts to give way at the seams. Just a little.

I have been running my whole life. Restless, three steps ahead of whoever might be behind me, because stopping has never once felt safe. And for one long, unguarded minute I let myself have this.

Here, held against a man who I’ve only truly known for the better part of a week, I feel safe.

I pull back before I do something humiliating, like cry on a national landmark’s front steps.

“Are you okay?” he asks again, ducking his head to look at me properly.

“Fine,” I say, steadier this time. Mostly. The word comes out clipped and unconvincing even to me, and I’m the one saying it. My hands are still shaking. I curl them into fists so he won’t see.

“Who was that guy?”

Say something. Anything. Not the truth.

“Nobody. Just someone I used to know.”

Jeremiah’s jaw tightens, and something dark passes behind his eyes. “If he bothers you again, you tell me. I mean it. I will find him.”

“Jeremiah, it’s fine.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

It does not land convincingly.

“Because,” he says slowly, and there’s something rough at the edges of his voice now. “And I want to be very clear about this. Contrary to what hockey players’ reputations might suggest, I am not a fighter. I don’t start things. I barely finish the things other people start.”

“Okay.”

“But.” He takes a dramatic pause. “I do have cousins. A lot of cousins. And I can make a phone call right now, this second, and by tomorrow morning that man will have a very loud and very persistent Spanish-speaking presence in his life that he did not ask for and will not enjoy.”

I laugh. I don’t mean to. It just happens, a full, undignified laugh that surprises both of us, and something in my chest that’s been wound tight all morning finally lets go.

“I’m fine, Jeremiah. Really. But since you’re here, and you clearly have nothing better to do than threaten strangers on my behalf…” I nod toward the street, toward the little cart two blocks down that’s been doing brisk business all week. “You could buy me an ice cream.”

He blinks. Then grins, slow, like the sun coming up. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that.”