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I was almost shouting now. Never in my life had I thought I’d be shouting at Jay. But never in my life had I thought he’d be in this situation either.
“We were handling it,” he ground out. His voice was no longer even. Fury leaked in to his voice. Fury that had never peppered his tone before. This was pivotal. Huge. Or it would’ve been, had the situation been any different. Right now, I wasn’t keeping score of all of the ways Jay’s emoted. Wasn’t counting them as victories.
“I don’t believe you,” I replied, forcing my voice to sound even, flippant.
“We know who did this to Diane,” Jay gritted out. “We have men going to retrieve him as we speak. We are going to take care of him.”
“Take care of him?” I repeated. “I’m guessing that doesn’t mean you’re going to have him dropped at the local police station?”
A muscle ticced in Jay’s jaw. “That’s none of your concern.”
It was my concern. If the man I was sleeping with was talking of having a man killed. Then again, if this man raped a nineteen-year-old girl then beat her like that, I wouldn’t be crying at his funeral.
But that wasn’t how this world worked. Not mine, at least.
“My concern is Diane, first and foremost,” I replied, sighing. “She does not need to be around two robotic, badass men who know nothing of her trauma and are biologically incapable of treating her with the care she deserves.”
“Her roommate is en route as we speak,” Karson offered.
I didn’t acknowledge this.
“We’re also arranging a doctor to meet her at her apartment,” Jay added, seeming rather pissed off at having to explain himself to me. His brows were furrowed, forehead creased with a frown. “And we’ll have a security detail on her for however long she needs.”
My teeth sank into my lower lip again. This was all something, but it wasn’t the way I believed this was meant to go.
“She goes to a hospital, she’ll be stuck in a waiting room with stab victims and drug addicts,” Jay continued. “She’ll be invaded in a sterile space, by an overworked doctor who will in turn contact the police who will, more than likely, take one look at her and treat her as if she deserved what happened to her.”
He walked toward the French doors, staring out at the darkness, silent for a few moments.
“They’ll make her feel as small as possible, if they even bother to talk to her for long enough,” he continued, turning to focus completely and utterly on me. “If, by some miracle, they believe her, catch who did it, then she’ll be put on a stand, her whole life picked apart, and again, she’ll be made to feel as small as possible while recounting the worst night of her life. And, because the man in question has money and a family name, he’ll get away with it. Because that’s how our justice system works. If you’re rich, connected, white, then you circumvent any kind of justice. Is that what you want for Diane, Stella?”
It was a challenge. Clear as day. Accusing, somehow, despite the fact that the blame rested on him for not treating the girl who loved Christmas movies with the care she deserved.
I jutted my chin upward. “No, that is not what I want for her. But I don’t want any of this for her either. And I sure as shit don’t want two men who couldn’t possibly understand what she could be feeling to make any decisions for her.”
Silence carried after my words. Jay was not used to me challenging him in this way. And I was not used to doing it. But I also had never, ever expected to be in a situation like this. For Jay to be involved in this.
“I’ll be fine,” Diane murmured. “I’ll go with them.”
We all looked to where she stood, dressed in cashmere sweats and my sneakers—two sizes too big—holding her clothes and heels awkwardly.
“You don’t have to, Diane,” I replied, focusing on her.
Her eyes went to me. She smiled the saddest smile I’d ever seen, one that should not be on a nineteen-year-old face. “You’ve been so kind to me tonight, Stella. You don’t know how much it means. But I trust Mr. Helmick. I know he’ll take care of me.”
I looked between her and Jay, wishing I could believe her. Believe in him. Her tone, though soft, was firm. There was no way I could make her do what she didn’t want to do, especially considering everything she’d gone through. So I moved across the room, grabbed the worn black purse that was on the kitchen counter. “Is your phone in here?”
She nodded.
I handed it to her, and she took it with shaking hands. My heart hurt watching them, but I resolved to keep my expression strong.
