I stand and stare down at my plate. Wasting food is practically criminal right now, and I wonder if I’ll be able to finish it before it goes bad. While I think about what to do with it, Brett and Caesar keep talking. They’re too far away from me to hear any of their words, but I see them glance over at me a couple more times, and I look away whenever they do. They’re standing close together, and I wonder if they’ve met before. They seem very familiar with each other.
“What’s wrong?” Falk is suddenly at my side, and his voice startles me. I didn’t even see him approach.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” He takes my arm and turns me to face him. His face is shadowed except for the light from the evening fire. It casts him in an orange glow. “You’ve barely said a word to anyone all evening, and you’re not even making eye contact. All you’re doing is staring at your half-eaten dinner. Now, what happened?”
“Just…just Beck being as ass.” I sigh. “It’s not a big deal.”
“What did he do?” Falk’s words are short and clipped. He scans the area, presumably looking for Beck.
“Nothing, really.”
“What did he do to you, Hannah?”
“He was just asking who I was. I guess he picked up on something Caesar said. I don’t know. He asked me who I was. That’s all.”
Falk stares at me for a long moment.
“Did he touch you?” he asks.
I hesitate, and Falk tightens his grip on my arm, nearly making me drop my plate.
“Did he fucking touch you?”
“No!” I pull my arm back from his grasp and glare at him. “He didn’t.”
The statement isn’t true, but I don’t want Falk to make a big deal out of it.
“You’re a shitty liar.” Falk runs his hand through his hair and huffs out a sharp breath. “Where were you?”
“In the shed,” I tell him.
“Alone?”
“I was just getting some paper towels,” I explained. “I was only in there a minute.”
“I told you not to go anywhere alone!” He’s not exactly yelling, but his tone is harsh.
“Well, that isn’t always practical!” I stare at him as he glares at me. After a moment, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“Did he hurt you, Hannah?” Falk’s voice is softer now, and he’s back to his characteristic calm. I’m not buying it though. I know by his eyes that he is still burning inside.
“No, he didn’t. I’m fine.” I glance up to meet his gaze, hoping I am convincing enough. Beck hadn’t hurt me, not really. He’d just frightened me, and that was only because he had been drinking. I just want to forget the whole thing.
Obviously, Falk isn’t going to let it go.
“I’m going to talk to him.”
“No, Falk!” I drop the plate, and it’s my turn to grab Falk’s arm. He stops and looks at my hand and then back to my face. I think it may be the only time I’ve initiated contact with him since the first night in his apartment when I’d had a breakdown. “Just drop it, okay? He didn’t really do anything, and I don’t want you two to get in yet another argument!”
“He did touch you.” It’s no longer a question.
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“He had his hands on you.”
I can feel the muscles of his forearm flex beneath my palm.