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Bentley exhales harshly. “I swear I won’t need one. Honest Abe from here on out.”
I sigh. “So, now what?”
Bentley squeezes the back of his neck. “Do you wanna talk about what happened that night?”
I briefly close my eyes, warding off the images his words conjure. I can’t stop thinking about that night, and none of those thoughts are pleasant.
“Not really.”
He sucks his full lower lip into his mouth. “Can I ask you one thing?”
“I reserve the right not to answer, but sure; go ahead.”
“Were you...did the guy who hurt you, did he, um...”
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to finish the sentence. The boy looks massively uncomfortable. I’m pretty sure I know where he’s going with this, but I don’t want to assume.
“Did the guy who hurt me do what, Bentley?”
He swallows a lump in his throat. “Did he...force himself on you?”
“No.” I inhale sharply. “He tried...but he didn’t succeed.”
Bentley's head drops onto his forearms, which are folded over the back of the chair. He stays that way for a moment, his back rising and falling as he takes deep breaths.
I quirk my head to the side. “You okay?”
“Just...give me a second.”
Did he just sniffle?
When Bentley’s head lifts, his eyes are bloodshot and filled with unshed tears. Any lingering tension in my body immediately softens at the sight.
“Bent—”
“Jazzy, I know this makes me sound like a total pussy, but can I hold you? I just need to feel you.”
I nod. “Just be careful around my middle, okay? I’m still sore.”
Without hesitation, Bentley stretches out beside me and wraps his arms around my upper body, tucking his face into the crook of my neck. Neither one of us says a word; we just sit there, taking comfort in each other’s arms. I hug him as tightly as I can when I feel his silent tears dripping onto my skin, trickling down to my collarbone. What on earth is upsetting him so much? Who would’ve ever thought this guy, who’s a clown more often than not, would break down like this?
I pull off his ball cap and comb my fingers through his closely cropped hair. “Bentley, what’s going on in that head of yours?”
His fists clench around my hoodie. “I’m just so fucking glad you’re okay. I needed you to be okay—I couldn’t live with myself if you weren’t.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I just snuggle with him while he tries to control his sobbing. I don’t know how long we lie in my bed, wrapped up in each other, before Bentley’s softly snoring. I’m glad I put on an extra layer of clothing because it doesn’t take long before his head is resting right over my breast, his mouth perilously close to my nipple. What is it with guys using boobs as pillows? It’s not like mine are even all that cushiony.
I don't have the heart to wake him, and if I'm honest, cuddling with Bentley isn't exactly a hardship. I'm actually relieved I'm okay with being touched like this after what happened. The memory of that vile man's rough hands and lips all over my body makes my skin crawl. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to tolerate anyone’s touch, regardless of how I felt about them. I relish in the comfort that provides, knowing I’ll need to stockpile it for later. I have a feeling things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.
CHAPTER SIX
JAZZ
“Well, isn’t this sweet?”
My eyes flutter open and find Kingston standing in the open doorway to my bedroom, looking awfully pissed. Why am I so sweaty? A pressure on my chest causes me to look down. Oh yeah, that's right. There are over two hundred pounds of muscular man-boy lying on me. Bentley's head is still on my left breast, and his hand is cupping my right.
I nudge him. “Bentley, get up.”
