"Nothing happened?" Charlie hissed. "Did you see her face? Her neck? Her wrist?"
"I did. And I think she needs more from you than just to notice it."
The inflection was there.
And Charlie's body softened as the rage was replaced with something else.
He turned, walking back to me in two strides, lowering down to his knees in front of me, hands reaching up to softly frame my face.
"Baby..."
"I'm okay," I assured him, feeling my heart flutter at the rawness in his voice as he said that one word.
"Helen..." he tried again.
"I'm fine. Like Connor said, nothing happened. I stopped him."
"I should have been here," he said, taking the blame onto his shoulders, where it did not belong.
"I can take care of myself," I assured him, putting some steel into my voice even though I knew I could trust him with all my soft and mushy.
"You shouldn't have to," he insisted.
"In what world would that even be a remote possibility?" I shot back. "This wasn't about you," I told him. "This was about some scumbag who thinks he can have whatever he desires simply because he is stronger. I showed him that he can't. That's it."
"This is..."
"Charlie," Connor's voice broke in, "Can you step outside for a moment? I need Helen's official statement."
Charlie gave me a long look. "It's okay. I'll be okay," I assured him.
"Just a few minutes," Connor added as Charlie moved past, both of them holding gazes for an almost uncomfortably long time, speaking in that silent man-language women are usually not fluent in, but I seemed to pick up on some posturing, some warning, before Charlie finally walked out, only closing the door halfway.
"Where should I start?" I asked, wrapping the blanket more securely around my body, my wet hair still dripping down my back, chilling me.
"At the beginning," he suggested, taking out a notebook. So I took it from the beginning, the greeting Bobby had given me, how he knew I was alone, editing out the parts that might incriminate Charlie, then ending with the lights flashing across the room. Connor tucked away his notebook, moving across the room toward me. "I hope you understand what you are getting yourself into here, Helen. This won't be an easy life."
"I don't expect it to be," I agreed.
"His work can blowback on you."
"I realize that too," I agreed, leaving out the part about how I was the mastermind of it all.
"It's a risk you're willing to take?"
"It's a risk I want to take," I clarified.
There was no mistaking the look of pain in his eyes, old wounds always being the kind that left a pang, even years later.
"I didn't deserve you, Connor," I told him, shaking my head. "You were too good a man. You deserve better than me."
"Not sure such a thing exists, Helen," he told me with a bittersweet smile. "But I'm happy for you. You deserve some happiness. Even if it comes with risk. I can't break the law for you, but I will try to do my best to make sure his messes don't splatter all over you."
"I would never ask..." I started, moving to stand.
"You will never have to."
With that, Connor Collings walked back out of my life as abruptly as he had burst in.
Hardly three seconds later, Charlie rushed back in, not even hesitating in wrapping me up.
But carefully.
Like I might break.
But I was done breaking.
Life had beaten me so hard over so many years.
I had no idea what it was doing.
Breaking me down to rebuild me.
Into a new shape, made of stronger stuff.
Unbreakable stuff.
"It's okay," I assured him, hands sliding up and down his back. "I'm okay."
"That motherfucker better hopes he gets locked up for a while," he growled, squeezing me tighter. "He's gonna pay for this."
"It's over," I countered, Connor's words weighing heavy on me. About Charlie. About this lifestyle. About what could happen to him because of it. I could at least protect him from the repercussions of this revenge plot building in his head. "Let's leave it where it is," I suggested, pulling away. "I have something else to tell you."
Charlie's brows knitted. "Let's get your face cleaned up first," he suggested, turning to lead me back into the bathroom.
I rushed forward, hand reaching for the counter, and turning before he could guess what was making me act so erratically.
Taking a deep breath, I held it out.
Two pink lines.
It was funny to realize your whole future came down to something like that.
Lines on a white background.
Telling us nothing would ever be the same again.
"You're sure?" he asked, voiced slow, careful, like he was afraid to get his hopes up.
"I'm sure," I agreed, having missed my period by almost three weeks before I finally bought a test. And this was the third one. The foolproof one. The one that was meant to be a happy surprise to pick up his mood after his first rough day at his new job.