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We arrive at the hospital a short while later, and they take Bella into a room. My knee bounces as my mind runs over the vision of Bella with her shirt stained and ripped open. What could’ve happened if I had arrived any later than I did? I can’t even stomach the thought.
More than an hour later she comes out in a set of scrubs, her hair pulled into a ponytail.
“I’m done,” she says.
“Can I touch you now?” I ask, standing from my chair.
“No.” She walks out of the hospital.
I follow, not knowing what exactly to do to help her through this.
More silence fills our ride back to her apartment.
She walks into the lobby and turns around with her hand up in front of her. “You can go now. Thank you for coming with me.”
She has to be kidding me.
“Bella. No.” I shake my head. “I’m seeing you upstairs, and I don’t intend to leave tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch or in the hallway if you prefer, but I’m not leaving.”
She looks at me for so long, I fear she’s going to refuse me, but she nods and we both head to the elevator.
Her apartment has a homey factor mine doesn’t. Her array of colors brightens the small space, making it more welcoming than my own condo, albeit much smaller.
“I’m going to shower,” she says and walks down the hall.
Once I hear the water running, I quickly change into the clothes I grabbed across the street from the hospital while she was with the doctors and the police officer. I was covered in that guy’s blood, and I don’t want her looking at me to be a visceral reminder of what happened.
I debate calling Evie or Annie or Blanca or Ma. Someone who can give me advice on what to do so that I say the right things instead of the dumb shit that usually comes out of my mouth.
Bella obviously doesn’t want to be touched, and all I want to do is hug her and tell her how thankful I am she’s in one piece. Tell her what a badass she is for fending off that asshole and how I would’ve killed him if she hadn’t stopped me. Most importantly, I want to tell her that I’m never leaving her and whether or not she accepts my apology, I have no intention of taking no for an answer. That we’re meant to be together and we will be.
Now isn’t the time for that though. Right now my priority is making sure she’s okay. Or as okay as she can be at the moment.
Instead of calling anyone—because it’s Bella’s business—I look through the cabinets and the fridge so I can at least feed her.
I’m stirring the pasta for the mac and cheese when she walks down her short hallway with her hair in a high wet bun, a pair of sweats, and Columbia T-shirt. Usually I’d make a remark about her T-shirt, but now isn’t the time. She comes over to the stove and I turn toward her, resting the spoon on the counter.
Tears hang off the ends of her lashes. “Now you can touch me.”
She falls into my waiting arms, sobs wailing from her lungs. I grip her tightly, my hand running up and down her back. I whisper all the praise I’ve mentally been giving her all night. Telling her how brave she was and how sorry I am that I wasn’t there.
It physically pains me to see her like this, and I wish I could take some of the pain for her. Hell, I’d take all of it if it meant she’d be whole.
The water boils over onto her stovetop, and I turn off the burner and guide her to the couch. We sit there with her wrapped in my arms, the only sound her silent sobs and sniffles. I want to find the bastard and kill him for what she has to go through because of him.
She draws back after a little while and wipes her tears. “About a year ago, a client called me…”
My eyes close. I should’ve figured this out. This is why she left the business. Because if you’re a FSBO broker, you don’t have to show properties.
“He wanted to see this property, but he was only in town for a short while. It was eight at night and the property was vacant, but I said okay. He used a fake name and a throwaway phone.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” I squeeze her into my side. For months I’ve wanted this information, but now that she’s giving it to me, it doesn’t seem that important. Not if it’s going to mess with her head.
She looks at me, the smallest of smiles creasing her lips, and her hand runs down my chin. “I do. If we’re going to get past this, you have to know what I’ve been hiding.”
I grab her hand and place it in my lap. “If it’s too much…”
“He was dressed in a suit. Clean-cut haircut. Cell phone to his ear when I arrived, like a busy professional. As soon as I opened the door, a chill ran over my body. He didn’t do anything unusual, but the energy was off. He let me say my spiel. I walked him over to the windows, pointing out the sliver of the city he’d see at night. At first he came up behind me and pressed into me.” She pauses and swallows, the tears stopping. “I’d had clients who made a pass at me before, but this felt different. So I kept my distance, hoping to get us out of there before he tried again.”
