rain coming down hard and angry, steaming off the ground.
Holding his head in my hands, I pressed my wet face to his.
"Hush, baby.
I understand.
I know how that feels, the way they gloat afterward.
And the shame and confusion and guilt you felt.
It's not your fault.
You didn't want it.
You didn't enjoy it."
"I let him touch me at first," he whispered.
"He said it was my age .
hormones .
I needed to masturbate and I'd be calmer.
Less angry all the time.
He touched me, said he'd show me how to do it right.
That I was doing it wrong - " "Gideon, no."
I pulled back to look at him, imagining in my mind how it would develop from that point on, all the things that would have been said to make it seem like Gideon was the instigator in his own rape.
"You were a child in the hands of an adult who knew all the right buttons to push.
They want to make it our fault so they have no culpability in their crime, but it's not true."
His eyes were huge and dark in his pale face.
I pressed my lips gently to his, tasting my tears.
"I love you.
And I believe you.
And none of this was your fault."
Gideon's hands were in my hair, holding me in place as he ravaged my mouth with desperate kisses.
"Don't leave me."
"Leave you? I'm going to marry you."
He inhaled sharply.
Then he pulled me closer, his hands careless and rough as they slid over me.
Impatient rapping against the window made me jerk in surprise.
A cop in rain gear and safety vest looked at us through the untinted front window, scowling at us from beneath the brim of her hat.
"You've got thirty seconds to move on or I'll cite you both for public indecency."
Embarrassed, my face flaming, I climbed back into my seat, sprawling in an ungraceful tumble.
Gideon waited until I had my seat belt on, then put the car in drive, tapped his brow in a salute to the officer, and pulled back out into traffic.
He reached for my hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed my fingertips.
"I love you."
I froze, my heart pounding.
Linking our fingers together, he set them on his thigh.
The windshield wipers slid from side to side, their rhythmic tempo mocking the racing of my pulse.
Swallowing hard, I whispered, "Say that again."
He slowed at a light.
Turning his head, he looked at me.
He looked weary, as if all his usual pulsing energy had been expended and he was running on fumes.
But his eyes were warm and bright, the curve of his mouth loving and hopeful.
"I love you.
Still not the right word, but I know you want to hear it."
"I need to hear it," I agreed softly.
"As long as you understand the difference."
The light changed and he drove on.
"People get over love.
They can live without it, they can move on.
Love can be lost and found again.
But that won't happen for me.
I won't survive you, Eva."
My breath caught at the look on his face when he glanced at me.
I get out of bed every morning and face the world because you're in it."
He turned the corner and pulled up in front of the Crossfire behind the Bentley.
He killed the engine, released his seat belt, and took a deep breath.
"Because of you, the world makes sense to me in a way it didn't before.
I have a place now, with you."
Suddenly I understood why he'd worked so hard, why he was so insanely successful at such a young age.
He'd been driven to find his place in the world, to be more than an outsider.
His fingertips brushed across my cheek.
I'd missed that touch so much, my heart bled at feeling it again.
"When are you coming back to me?" I asked softly.
"As soon as I can."
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to mine.
"Wait."
Chapter 19
When I got to my desk, I found a voice mail from Christopher.
I debated for a moment whether I should continue to pursue the truth.
Christopher wasn't a man I wanted to invite any deeper into my life.
But I was haunted by the look that had been on Gideon's face when he told me about his past, and the sound of his voice, so hoarse with remembered shame and agony.