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“How did you know what to do with her tonight?” Her brows furrow as she tilts her head to look at me.
“That’s not the first panic attack I’ve seen her have,” I say leaning back in the chair. Whiskey readjusts himself and curls up at my feet.
“Really? I haven’t seen her have one in a really long time.” Her hands stop moving, she’s surprised.
I give her a small smile and decide not to divulge. If Avery didn’t tell her, then it’s none of her business, but on the flip side, it’s not going to prevent me from asking questions.
“How long has she been this way?” I ask her.
“As long as I’ve known her. So, seven years now.” She starts messing with her dress again, and Clay’s fingers begin to move over her shoulder. She settles.
“The person who did this, did she know him?” I’ve thought a lot about what she might have gone through, granted I don’t know the details yet, but I’ve been stuck on wondering if this was personal or not. Seems to me that would somehow change the victimization of all this.
“Yeah, he was her boyfriend.” She looks away from me and frowns as some memory comes to mind.
Personal.
Shit.
“You’re kidding.” My hands clench into fists and I feel Clay watching me. I understand there are some people out there who want what they can’t have, and tragic inexcusable things happen. But her boyfriend? The person who is supposed to love her? That makes this domestic violence. I will never understand how anyone could physically hurt her—she’s so perfect.
“Nope, and they were together for a long time too. What happened to her wasn’t a one-time thing; it was a long-time thing.”
My jaw tenses and I swallow to try and push down the fury I feel at this moment. “Tell me.”
“You have to understand, Avery's always been beautiful. For as long as I've known her, whenever she walks into a room, guys literally stop what they are doing and just stare at her. They don't just stare at her because she's beautiful, no, there's always a look in their eyes that says, ‘more.’ She's viewed as a beautiful object, a trophy, something to own and show off, instead of the kind, loyal, amazing person she is. In the end, that's what the asshole thought of her and he tried his hardest to make her. He wanted to possess her, and each time she didn't do, dress, or say exactly what he wanted, he got a little angrier.”
Angry doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling. Sweat breaks out across my back.
“When they were in public, he would stand behind her, and squeeze her arms or the back of her neck, bruising her, and then later on he would laugh at the marks and tell her it's her own fault.”
“Jesus.” Her reaction to my hand on her neck at the airport flashes through my mind. Dread and pain slip in under my skin.
“Yeah, I know.” Emma pinches her lips together. “But what makes all of this so much worse is that she loved and trusted him.”
No wonder her take on trust is earned, not given.
She told me tonight she trusts me, and knowing what I do now, this trust means so much more. I need them to leave soon so I can climb into bed with her, and wrap her up in my arms.
“I know what you’re thinking—why did she stay with him?” She’s studying me.
“Actually, I was thinking how I could find this guy and end him,” I grit out through my teeth and glance at Clay. He’s tense like I am.
“He wasn’t always mean to her, but the last time was just . . .” She frowns.
“What happened the last time?” Anxiety washes over me.
“She can tell you that.” She gives me a small smile. It’s an apology for leaving me wondering, but I understand—this is the part of the story that’s Avery’s to tell.
“What happened to him?” I ask as my fingers dig into the armrests of the chair.
“Nothing.” She shrugs her shoulders.
What?
“How does someone like that just get to go free? Do you know if there were any others he treated this way?” My knuckles strain and turn white.
“One other, that I know of. A few years ago Avery’s father called and told her he had gone to jail for doing something similar to someone else. I think he thought it might make her feel better to know he was behind bars and not out running free, but it did the opposite. She cried for him.”
