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I turn into the mattress, exhausted and terrified as the panic seeps from my bones. Goosebumps cover me, my wrists hurting in remembrance. I try and push away what happened to me but it’s impossible; it’s a noose around my neck. A heavy, blinding pain in my head sears through my ability to speak until finally, I manage, “My head hurts like crazy.”
“Did Tabi leave her painkillers?”
“I have some in my handbag. It’s on the chair.”
Max retrieves my bag and looks through the contents. “Here, I’ll get some water.”
I wait for him to return, telling him, “My heart ispounding.”
“Deep breaths,” Max urges, “And then tell me what you can.”
I recap everything. “Nothing else?” he asks. “No signs, or an address you might have seen? Was anyone else there? What did this man look like?”
I shake my head, not knowing where to start with his questions. “I was unable to get a look at his face, but the impression is of a trim, olive-skinned man.”
He exhales, long and slow, lost to his thoughts. “It’s a start,” he reassures me nodding. “More will come, I know it.”
With my mind in fucking free fall we settle under the covers, Max tucking in behind me where we lie in silence. He seems to understand that I need some time to process what I saw. To use my logical brain to analyse and think. And I need some time tobreathe.
Bad thoughts about myself rear, about what I was subjected to. It’s hard to think any man would want to implicate himself with me, but I feel it’s only right to say what I do next. “You should know that I’ve been tested for every STD known to mankind. I have a follow-up next week.”
He kisses my head. “Don’t worry.”
Not knowing how many men assaulted me is a difficulty whichever way you look at it, but when it comes to wondering about—and discussing—my sexual health, with a new partner no less, I’m mortified. And unsurprisingly, feelings of inadequacy take root. What does Max think of me? Isn’t he disgusted by what happened, even if I had no say in it? Insecure, I murmur, “I have a coil fitted, but you should wear condoms.”
He chuckles, sounding unimpressed. “Should I?”
“Don’t you think you should?” I wait for his answer; even my heart seems to wait for it, the beats slow and sludgy.
“I’m not worried about catching anything, and if you’re protected then it’s not necessary. I’m clean. I can show you the paperwork.”
“What if I’m lying about the coil?” I point out. “I could be tricking you right now.”
“But you’re not,” he returns, skimming a solicitous palm over my hip and down my leg.
“You don’t know that.”
There’s a frustrated inhale. “Ava, I like the thought of my sperm inside you, staking my claim. When you put your mouth on me and swallowed, I liked it a lot.”
Unsure what to say, I just lie there thinking about what I should be thinking. I’m not repulsed by his confession. I find that I’m feeling rather proud of myself, actually. And flattered, oddly. Praised.
“It’s like I’m with you,” he tells me gently. “Even when I’m not.”
Under normal circumstances, I might have found that creepy, but I don’t. It’s reassuring and I feel less alone.
Quickly, I type some notes into my phone, trying to make sense of things. When I’m done, I turn to face him, his arms encircling me. “Hey, I’m sorry that we argued. As much as I didn’t like your method, you seem to know how to release these memories.”
“Do you think?”
“Yeah.”
His arms tighten. “That’s on me, not you, so no apology needed. I want to help and I’m glad if I am.”
“You are,” I assure him, so pleased he’s here. That he’s with me as I unravel.
“Let me make it up to you,” he murmurs in the low light.
My tummy twists with delight. “How?”
