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I gulped, certain I was about to be fired for striking my boss. Before I could stop myself, I whirled to him, blurting, “It wasn’t my fault. He—he—”
“I saw what he did,” Gracen said evenly. “I saw the whole damn thing.”
Okay.
I wasn’t sure what that meant, though. He’d looked pretty mad at Mr. Draper. But he didn’t seem to be very happy with me, either. Was I in trouble here or not?
“Well, if you’re going to reprimand me for hurting him, then just get it over with already,” I muttered irritably, unable to handle waiting for him to react. “Because I might not have meant to hit him so hard, but I don’t regret what I did. He shouldn’t have gotten handsy with me. I don’t care if you think I deserved it for stupidly bending over in front of him. I—”
“Why in God’s name would I think you deserved that?” Gracen cried incredulously.
“You told me my looks caused men to—”
“The fuck if I did! That isn’t even in the ballpark of what I said. I have no idea why assholes are such assholes. And Art Draper is a grade-A, all-American asshole. It didn’t matter if you’d come to work in a thong and fucking nipple tassels and started doing yoga in front of him. He had no right to grab your ass. At all. And for your information, the only reason I brought you in here was to ask if you were okay. Not to reprimand you.”
He was furious by the time he finished his rant, and it looked like a vein might pop on his neck. But strangely, I wasn’t scared of him. I did feel cruddy about trying to lump him into the same category as Mr. Draper, though. I knew he wasn’t like the assholes of the world. My instin
cts had always known he was nothing but safe and compassionate, no matter what I accused him of.
So I crossed my arms tightly over my chest as my chin began to tremble uncontrollably. “Of course, I’m not okay,” I muttered. “My boss just fucking groped me.”
Then my throat closed over and tears watered my eyes. “What am I doing wrong? Why do I keep drawing these jerks to me and letting them get away with thinking they can just—that they can—”
“You’re too nice,” he answered softly, his eyes finally filling with sympathetic kindness. “Politeness is so ingrained into your system that you’d rather implode than be rude to someone and tell them to fuck off when they deserve it. So they push your boundaries and keep pushing until they get what they want.”
“Well...” I frowned up at him mutinously. “That just sucks. Why do I have to be the one to change and become something else—something hard and rude and all back-the-hell-off—just because they’re handsy and inconsiderate and—and—”
I shook my head and shuddered, wiping at my cheeks, absolutely hating this. Why did some people purposely put you in an uncomfortable situation just because they could? That shouldn’t be right. I liked being nice. I shouldn’t have to feel shitty and weak for simply being the way I wanted to be.
“I hope you don’t change,” Gracen murmured softly. “I kind of like you the way you are. And as I recall, you didn’t exactly let Draper walk all over you out there, either. You punched the asshole in the throat.”
A crazed laugh bubbled out of me. “Oh God, I really did, didn’t I?” I really hadn’t meant to. I hadn’t even wanted to. But I kind of admired what I’d done too.
Gracen nodded. “You did. It was epic.”
“It was a far cry from the panic attack I nearly had with the jerk at the theater, huh?”
“I think my jaw hit the floor the moment he crumpled in front of you.”
I laughed again because I’d done it. I’d finally defended myself to my own satisfaction. Parker was going to be so proud.
But then the aftereffects finally hit, and a tremble seized me, followed by another. Before I knew it, I was sinking into a chair and weeping uncontrollably.
Chapter Thirteen
Gracen
TWENTY MINUTES LATER
Yellow had told me not to worry about her while she cried.
“It’s my form of stress relief,” she tried to explain while the tears were streaming and her nose was running.
Her cheeks were mottled with red splotches, and her eyes were puffy and swollen. Yet her main concern was to reassure me.
“Some people rage, some people drink, some people bury it deep. But I stress cry. Once I get it out of my system, though, I’ll be fine and ready to deal with life again. Okay?”
I had waved a hand and answered, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me. Just do whatever you need to do,” and I’d backed up to sit in a chair against the wall to watch and wait.
