Panic reared up. One touch, one look, and she’d cave. Because she loved him. It was stupid and useless but true. She loved him. So much. Too much to put him through this. And once he heard, everything would change. Tig’s accusations had added bruising weight to her constant guilt. She’d let things go on—let Tig do those things to her. How could Jace look at her the same way? How could he leave her? He was a gentleman. And this time, it would be his downfall.
In his eyes, she was a better version of herself. Losing that? It would hurt. But there was no help for it; she needed to get used to pain.
She gripped Emmy, the bed, anything not to reach for him. He couldn’t be here.
But he was headed toward her with a single-minded focus that demanded her response. He was all buttoned up and starched for a night out, looking seriously sexy and gorgeous and manly…staring her way, smiling her way, not acknowledging anyone else in the room. Not her family or the police officers or the out-of-control beeping of her heart monitor. Just her. By the time he was beside her, sitting on her bed, she welcomed his arms around her. Craved his scent, turning into him—even if it hurt. Jace. She couldn’t get close enough. This. This was what she needed.
His lips pressed against her ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He could never hurt her. Ever. It was a truth she’d finally come to accept. He was, without fail, the man she believed couldn’t exist. And, dammit, she loved him.
If you love someone, you put their needs first. Always. Another bit of her gramma’s kitchen counseling.
Jace had Heather. A fledgling career. The support of a record company, endorsements in the works. Obligations to fulfill. He didn’t need to be front and center for the media circus she was going to unleash. He owed it to himself, to his sister, to see this through.
She had to stop hiding. Tig Whitman had to pay. And Jace shouldn’t be a part of that. She wouldn’t let him. Now she had to pretend she wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be, burrowed against the chest she adored, and go full-on bitch mode. She shook her head. “Jace.” She forced herself away from him. Be strong. For both of their sakes. Strong. And mean.
“Don’t do it.” His brow furrowed, those light brown eyes searching.
Dammit. Tough. Not soft and achy. Mean.
“Please.” He blew out a deep breath. “Let me stay.”
Yes, stay. Hold on to me. No. Stop it. She cleared her throat. “I need…” She broke off. She didn’t want him here—it wasn’t what was best for him. But she needed him. “Stay.”
He nodded, staring at her so long and hard Krystal’s eyes were burning something fierce. “I’m not going anywhere.”
That look. Her heart hammered away. When he looked at her like that, she could almost believe he cared about her—that, by some miracle, he might care for her no matter what. She knew better. They’d never make it, never made any sense. He was too good for her. Once he knew the truth about Tig, he’d never look at her this way again.
Officer Washington watched the exchange—the whole room did. Clearly, she had some concerns about Jace’s arrival. “If you’re staying, Mr. Black, I’d like to get back to questioning?” She nodded toward the door.
He stayed at her side, his warm gaze sweeping over her face. “Stay strong. I’m proud of you,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. His words echoed. And they made her strong.
“Miss King, I understand that this might be difficult. But you need to be as thorough as possible. Details, in this situation, can be key.”
She nodded. Details. The bits and pieces that made facts into so much more. “You heard her, guys. Last chance to bail.” It was a pathetic attempt to defuse the tension in the room, but she had to try. Hoping they’d go. Hoping they’d stay.
Nobody moved.
She stared at the whiteboard on the far wall, listing the nurses on duty and an emoji pain scale for patients to use when describing their discomfort. She stared at the “High Level of Pain” face—red cheeks, tears, forehead scrunched. On the inside, that was her. She focused on that, focused on only that. Not her family or the police officers or even Jace. Just that red-pained face, and started talking.
“Tig Whitman is an asshole. Make sure you write that part down.” She took a deep breath and started talking. If she distanced herself, made it more like a narration, on the outside, the words came easier. She spoke slowly, carefully, choosing her words. Narrating—not involved. Going in to get Emmy’s purse. What she heard. What she saw. Becca. What she suspected. Becca shutting her down. Tig—smug and smiling. A tremor ran along her skin. She stopped there.
Officer Washington waited. “And then?”
Jace’s hand rubbed up and down her back, encouraging her. Because he didn’t know what was coming. None of them did. Her stomach clenched.
She flexed her fingers, shook her hands out. They were all watching. All waiting. She blew out a long, wavering breath. The “High Level of Pain” emoji was blurring now. Her words weren’t as steady when she described running for her bus, texting them to pick her up later, panicking—no point denying she had. “I wanted space…I was upset. Needed to get my head right.” More hand shaking. “He was on the bus.” She focused on the light overhead. The fluorescent bulb had a slight pulse. “He…he kept saying things…” Her gaze fell, darting toward her father, then the sheet covering her legs. “Things…that happened a long time ago.” A long time ago. The past. No more. Head up. No more secrets. She cleared her throat, the edge to her voice defiant—wavering. “I’m a liar, he said. No one believed me then. Why would anyone believe me now? The truth won’t change the past.” Her hands were so cold, tingling. No matter how hard she shook them, she couldn’t stop the frigid stinging shooting from her fingertips up her arms.
“You have a past with this man?” Officer Washington asked.
Her heart rate had accelerated to jackhammer intensity so she tugged off the finger monitor and threw it on the bed. It was only going to get worse. “I do. He was my mentor. My father’s best friend. Near family. And he…molested me for almost a year before I told anyone.” The words choked her. But they were out. She’d said it—the truth. Eyes burning, stomach churning, shaking like a leaf—but she’d done it.
And now everyone knew.
Jace jolted, the whole bed jerking.
Jace knew. She pressed her eyes s