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For my first death threat, I gotta say, it came out pretty damn badass. That might’ve been because I felt the words from the depths of my bones. In that moment, I’d rather strangle her to death than feel her creepy hands on my skin again. That was the kind of person she’d turned me into.
Her mouth fell open; I’d finally managed to shock her.
Good.
We were done here.
I left her house at a jog, hurrying to my own back door through the warm, muggy night.
That’s when reality took root. And shit, shit, shit. My knees began to tremble with the realization of what I’d just done. I’d just stood up to Patricia and spat in her face. “Holy shit,” I uttered in a shaky voice. Fear welled—what would I do if she went after Reese for this?
But how could I fuck her if I went back over there? I couldn’t, that’s just all there was to it. So, fuck no. I wasn’t going back over there. What was done was done, and I had to deal with the repercussions.
First order of business was a shower to remove the vile impression her touch had left on me. Then I had to get my mother home as soon as possible so she could stay with Sarah and I could track Reese down to make sure she wasn’t left alone, in case her ex showed up.
Reese.
God, what was I going to tell Reese? Or Teresa, or whoever she was. Maybe she’d be happy that I hadn’t slept with Patricia. She definitely hadn’t wanted me to. Or maybe she’d be pissed. What if she thought I didn’t care enough about her safety since I’d just left her exposed and in danger? What if she hated me? Or what if she forgave me yet was still scared out of her mind that he’d find her now? She’d gone to all the trouble of changing her name and moving halfway across the country to escape him. Of course she’d be freaked about the possibility that he might now find her…because of me.
What the fuck was I supposed to tell her…if she even opened her door to me in the first place?
I didn’t know. I honestly had no clue.
But then I realized I had to decide pretty damn quickly because as soon as I entered my own kitchen, there she was, sitting at the table, weeping openly.
I jerked to a halt, gaping at her. She looked crushed, and I’d caused that.
She stood up, holding herself, appearing nothing like the bright, confident, perky woman I’d come to know these past few months. “Are you… Is it done?” she asked hesitantly, blinking through her tears.
“Reese?” was all I could manage to say. “What’re you doing here?” I’d planned to track her down anyway, but I hadn’t practiced what to say yet.
“S-Sarah…” She hiccupped a sob, making me wince. “Sarah was home alone.”
I shook my head and realized I couldn’t tell her the truth. She was already upset, I didn’t want to pile more on her; I didn’t want her afraid and constantly worried about him showing up. And besides, it was best that she saw me like this, thinking I’d gone through with it, because this was my ultimate truth.
I was that guy, the one who’d taken money for sex. I could never change that. And she needed to see it, experience it fully. If we ever had a future together, she’d have to accept the fact of what I’d been. And this was the quickest, most brutal way to accomplish that.
“Christ.” I covered my face with both hands, a hoarse moan of agony bleeding from my lungs. This was the moment of truth. She’d leave me or accept it. It was the most frightening moment of my life, because I was certain I’d never see her again.
But instead of running off, what she did was trip forward as if seeking me for comfort.
She thought I’d just fucked another woman and she was still coming to me. Patricia had just touched me with her vile hands and now Reese wanted to touch me. I couldn’t handle that. I didn’t deserve it.
I jerked back, glancing away guiltily. “Don’t. I’m not clean.”
She shuddered and sniffed, brokenhearted but tried to hug me again. I loved that as much as I wanted her to stop. She needed a good, clean boy who was worthy of her. Not me.
Holding up both hands, I hissed, “Stop! Jesus, Reese. This is why we’re supposed to be just friends. This is why…God damn it!” I cupped her cheek in one hand, taking in her swollen, tear-stained eyes and red nose. I had destroyed her. “Look what I did to you. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. I never wanted to hurt you. I would give anything to keep this from you.”
She clutched the front of my shirt frantically. “Then let me help you.”
“How?” I shook my head unable to see how we could ever fix any of this.
At first, she looked lost, as if our problems were too big to conquer, but then a mien of pure stubborn determination and steely resolve filled her expression.
“Do you want to be clean?” she asked, wiping her wet eyes and metaphorically pulling on her get-to-work panties to fix what was broken.
I loved her tenacity, but honestly I saw no way to get around what I’d done; I had become a male escort long before I’d met her, and that’s what had destroyed any future we could ever have.
