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Whatever. I knew what I knew about Amber. He couldn’t change my mind.

“That’s pretty much the whole story,” I said. “I miscarried by the end of the next day. I pressed charges, but Bridge didn’t even get arrested. I had too much history or he had too much money. I don’t know. When I was released from the hospital, I tried again to explain to Amber, but Bridge had a story that she thought was equally believable.”

She didn’t realize that the ten grand that Bridge had allowed her to give me had been retribution instead of charity. I didn’t blame her for taking his side. And she said she didn’t blame me either, but that maybe it was time for us to rethink our situation. I agreed. I wanted out, wanted to live a life where I depended on myself and my own money. A life where I felt safe, for once.

I’d begged her to come with me. I’d begged her to leave Bridge and start again, without drugs, without abuse. “We always said we’d find our own life someday,” I’d reminded her.

“We did,” she’d said. “And I’m sure someday’s gotta happen for us all one day. But it doesn’t mean mine’s happening at the same time as yours.”

I’d clung to her when we said goodbye. She’d cried – she was always a crier. It was shitty to have that be my last memory of her, sad and bleary-eyed. Whenever I thought of her, it was hard not to think of her as crying.

I wondered if she’d always thought of me as clinging. And was it really inaccurate if she did?

The summarized version was what I told Reeve. “We decided it was time to part ways. I moved to LA and tried as best as I could to get my life together. Got some modeling gigs. Then some acting. And here I am.”

“And that was it? You never heard from her again?”

Until she called for help from here. But I twisted the answer so it wasn’t a blatant lie. “I haven’t seen her since. That was almost seven years ago.”

“Why the hell do you sound like you did something wrong?”

I flew to my feet and faced him. “Because I did! I let her go with him. I let her stay with a sadistic fucked-up rapist. I didn’t get her away from Bridge or away from the drugs. She rescued me every time I needed it, and I didn’t rescue her.” The whole time I’d been talking, this was the most worked up I’d been.

He stepped toward me. “You’re carrying a whole lot of regret over something that was not your fault.”

“It’s my fault she made those assumptions.” It sounded stupid when I said it out loud. I couldn’t explain what I meant. I huffed. “You don’t know, Reeve.”

He threw his hands up. “Fine, I don’t know.”

We stood silently, each of us facing a different direction, both of us brooding. I chewed my lip trying to figure out what to say or do next. I felt horrible. And I did have regrets – I regretted telling Reeve anything because now he was upset and I was upset.

Though, I wasn’t quite sure what it was he was upset with. Bridge, yes. I knew that. But then, it seemed he was also ticked off at me.

I kicked my toe in the dirt and mumbled, “Are you mad at me now?”

“What?” Before I knew it, he’d pulled me into him. “No, no, no way.” He kissed my hair, wrapping me tighter in his arms. “I’m mad at what that piece of shit did to you, and I’m mad at… at Amber, for letting that happen to you. I’m mad that you’re blaming yourself, but I’m not mad at you.” He pushed me away, his hands on my shoulders, so he could look at my eyes. “You got that?”

I nodded, unable to speak, and he drew me back into his chest. He rocked me like that, both of us not saying anything, rocked me and hushed me even though I wasn’t crying. It was soothing though. For both of us, I think.

So I hugged him closer to me and enjoyed the sweetness of being comforted.

Eventually he spoke. “God. I can’t stop thinking about what he did…”

“I didn’t want to tell you.”

“I wanted you to tell me. You lived it. The least I can do is know.” He took a big breath that lifted me with it.

When he exhaled, he stepped away.

“It’s cold,” he said, rubbing his hands over the sleeves of my shirt. “I should get you inside. I’ll run you a hot shower and you can…” He paused. “You can get the smell of campfire off of you.”

“Only if you’re planning on joining me.” When he looked at me uncertainly, I began to panic. “Goddamn it, you’re going to be fragile with me now, aren’t you?”

He laughed, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand. “No. I’m really not. I’m still going to fuck you as hard as ever because I’m not a good man.” Then he grew serious again, meeting my eyes. “If you want me to, I’ll join you. I just wanted to make sure you had space if you needed it.”

My chest felt tighter and looser all at once. Like something that had been stuck inside had been released but now there was something new filling up its place, expanding and swelling.

“I think you’re a better man than you think you are.” But what I meant was, maybe you’re a better man than I think you are.