Page 48 of What We Had

It? Does he mean the abuse?

“Now I drive a shitty car. Live in this small house. Barely any friends. Everyone at work is constantly hunting for boyfriends for me—even mycaptain—but they don’t know why I keep turning every option down.” He picked his head back up. “Andyou. Like, mister successful. You left your watch here the other day. I looked it up. That thing cost twenty-something-thousand dollars!” Head back down. Arms stayed by his side this time.

“It’s yours,” I said. My thumb had been rubbing the smooth patch of skin between his ankle and heel. I forced myself to stop, fearing the intimacy of the touch. “Really. You can have it.”

He smiled, though it looked painful. “I’m gonna regret saying all of this in the morning, aren’t I?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, man. Please don’t hold it against me.”

Like hell. “Your head still spinning?”

“Kinda.”

“Try some water. Prop your head up on the armrest.”

“Mmkay.”

Couple of sips later, we repositioned ourselves. Bennett insisted that he bend his knees right over my lap. Forced me to hold his hand. Every time he tried to be chatty, I shushed him and said to zone out and sleep. Within twenty minutes, quiet snores escaped his mouth. I muted the television and accepted that I’d be stuck on that couch for a while. Without disturbing Bennett, I pulled out my phone to pass the time.

Bennett talking about my success had me curious. I googled my name to see if anything recent came out, given Winnie’s newest endeavor. A spike of adrenaline sluiced through my chest. The first result displayed an article detailing the play-by-play when she first accused me of assault. The writer gloated at my lack of work since my termination fromCode of Justice. I thumbed back to the search results. My heart sank at the next article.

“Streaming Services Pressured To Remove Clarke” the headline read. I opened the article and zoomed through as much information as possible. Nothing concrete. I knew my team hadn’t been notified, because they would have told me, which meant this was all hearsay. But Hollywood adored caving to social pressure.

I enjoyed the residuals I received fromCode of Justice. Surely they wouldn’t pull the seasons I was on? All because Winnie renewed her accusations?

The third article was a recent interview. My stomach tightened at the sight of her peroxide-blonde hair, the perfect nose from two rhinoplasties, filler-plump lips that she swore were real. I played a clip and tried not to break the phone in my hand.

“Being a survivor,” Winnie said in the light, girl-next-door alto she used as her stage voice, “it means just as much to others as it does for me. Am I a victim? I suppose. But I don’t define myself as that.”

Off camera, the interviewer asked, “What do you define yourself as, then? A survivor?”

She looked down, as if to contemplate the question. I would have bet a hundred dollars that their PR team scripted the whole thing.

When she lifted her eyes, they glistened with teary conviction. “I’m determined. That’s how you can define me.”

“Fucking fuck,” I said and turned my phone off, tossed it across the couch to the other side.

Who the hell says that?I thought. Looked over at sleeping Bennett.He’s the real survivor. A quiet rage filled the hollowness that had formed when LA spat me out.Bennettwas the true victim of something unspeakable. He knew determination, and perseverance, andlove. I could set my watch on how Bennett made progress every day. He stepped back, yes, but when he stepped forward, he always had a net gain.

I dropped my head to the back of the couch, blew out a long stream of anger from tight lips. Bennett stirred, pawed at the air until he found my hand. Our fingers interlocked.

I needed to reconnect my soul. I didn’t realize until that moment that I still had part of my mind in LA, wondering how this whole thing would shake out. If I could ever get back into the game. The issue with Deacon didn’t help. Concern for my safety anchored the other side of me. I couldn’t let go of Hollywood until Deacon explained what the hell was going on and why he needed to fly out here to see me.

Too much. Just let it go.

I gingerly unlaced my hand from Bennett, slipped out from under his legs. Grabbed a blanket along the back of the couch and draped it over him. Turned off the TV.

I lay on the opposite end of the sectional and grabbed my own blanket. Our feet touched at the center seat and I tucked mine between his, our cold toes kissing.

I uncorked my mind and let thoughts swirl, then drain.

?

Awarm body pressed into me. I mumbled something before opening my eyes.

“Shh,” came Bennett’s soft voice.

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