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"Okay," he said, trying to speak in a calm voice. Adjusting her till her back was against the door, he pressed himself to her in an embrace as she sobbed. "I'm here. It's all right."
She furiously shook her head against him.
"Okay," he said, "it's not all right." He ran his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer, his heart racing. "Let's get you inside."
When she didn't move, he bent and scooped her up, her maxi gliding on the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to the spare bedroom, her face pressed against his chest. He placed her on the bed and sat in front of her.
Her sobs turned to shudders and sniffs. She kept her face buried in her hands. He waited patiently.
After a few moments, he reached forward and softly held her hands, pulling them away from her. He stared at her face, cheeks streaked with tears. His jaw tightened. She looked up at him, tears falling still.
Chris got up, out of the room, and brought back a glass of water. She shook her head but he touched the rim of the glass to her lips. She took a few sips, then softly pushed it away. He placed it against her lips again. Defeated, she took a shaky breath, drank the glass empty, and put it aside.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking down. "I'm sorry."
"Whodid this?"
She looked up at him in surprise. He knew he'd never sounded this determined, this threatening. The fact remained that he'd neverfeltthis threatening, either. All he saw was red. She was broken, he could feel it in her whimpers, and it was killing him.
He moved forward to cup her cheek in his hand when she didn't answer. She closed her eyes and rested her face against his hand, brushing her lips on his palm. "Look at me, Elle."
She opened her eyes and looked at him. He held her firmly, unable to soften his expressions.
"Who hurt you?" he asked.
She shuddered with a sob. "It's just... It's..." She gulped, falling silent.
"Okay," he said, scooting closer. "It's all right. Was it Xavier?"
She nodded, holding onto his hand that held her face, shaking.
He clenched his teeth, rage boiling within him. "What did he do? Is it about the kiss?"
She shook her head. Then in broken words, punctuated by her sobs and hiccups, she told him things he hadn't expected to hear. She told him about the gang that was involved in Abbott's murder, that Xavier was a part of that gang, that her father was probably killed because of her relationship with Xavier, and that she'd never be able to forgive herself.
She told him that he'd lied to her about not knowing who killed Abbott, and when she'd confronted him, he got spiteful, and that she didn't blame his behavior because of his past traumas, but it hurt nonetheless.
She told him how he'd hated the idea of their friendship, that it pained him when she'd gone with Chris that night, and that he wanted her to give him up.
She told him about the way he'd grabbed her arms, that it hurt, that he'd pulled her hair, and that he'd forced a kiss on her even as she tried to push him away.
By the end of it, Chris shook with fury, his eyes stinging. He grabbed the neckline of the dress he'd gifted her and pulled it down toward the right, baring her skin to him. She gasped a little but didn't protest.
Surely, there were finger marks where Xavier had held her, though very light. He gently pulled the fabric back up.
"Chris?" she called, but her voice sounded afar.
There was a ringing in his ears, his head pounding. He wanted nothing more than to get his hands on Xavier and make him bleed. Everything vibrated, and his vision got blurred.
"Chris?" He heard Giselle's panicked voice from a distance.
Without a word, he got up and walked out of the room. This was where he drew the line. Nobody was allowed to hurt her. A fire burned within him, and he could see nothing beyond it.
But before he could open the door to leave, tender arms wrapped around him from the back, pulling him. He dragged her behind him.
"Please stop," she said.
"Giselle, leave!"
