enough illumination from the streetlamp outside for me to see how worried he is.
“It was a guy, wasn’t it?” he asks through a clenched jaw.
I nod, still not wanting to say Seth’s name or talk about what he did out loud. Talking about it will make it more real, and I don’t want it to be real. I want to pretend it was all some terrible dream and forget about the terrifying feel of his hands on me forever.
“Did he hurt you? Do we need to call the police?” Nick asks.
I shake my head quickly, panicked by the thought. “No, I don’t want to call the police.”
“Mel, if he hurt you, we have to—”
“He tried, but he didn’t,” I say. “He didn’t,” I repeat when Nick’s forehead wrinkles in doubt. “You opened the door, and I got away before…” I swallow. “Before,” I repeat, hoping that sums it up.
Anger ignites in his eyes, his rage so immediate and intense I swear I can feel it warming the skin beneath his shirt. “But what if I hadn’t opened the door? Would he have raped you?”
I flinch at the word and back away, slipping out of his arms as I drop my gaze to the black and white tile on the floor. Instantly, I start counting the black squares, anything to keep my mind off his words, to keep from seriously considering that question.
“Mel…” Nick says, insistent.
He’s obviously not going to let this go.
“I…I don’t know,” I stammer.
“You don’t know?” Nick repeats before adding gently, “I think you know, baby. You wouldn’t have screamed like that if you weren’t—”
“Okay. Yes,” I say, tears filling my eyes for the first time since Seth put his hands on me. “He probably would have.”
“Then we’re calling the police.” Nick brushes my hair from my face, his fingertips lingering on my cheek.
I look up, fighting to swallow past the rock lodged in my throat. “No, I can’t. Please, Nick, I don’t want to talk about it. Ever. I just want to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“But it did happen.”
“I know, but it’s over now. I’m safe. It’s in the past.”
“I’ll come with you,” he says, drawing me back into his arms. “I’ll stay right next to you the entire time you’re talking to the cops. I’ll tell them I heard you screaming and—”
“I said no, and I mean it.” I snap, the words emerging in a louder voice than I intended.
Unlike Seth, however, as soon as Nick hears the word “no,” he immediately backs off.
“Okay. I’m sorry.” He hugs me close, dropping a kiss to the top of my head that helps my next breath come easier.
I rest my cheek on his chest with a sigh.
“It’s your decision, of course. I just…” His arms tighten around me. “I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you and getting away with it. I wish I’d gotten there sooner.”
I frown, my cheek scrunching against Nick’s shirt. “Why were you there? I mean, I’m so glad you were, but the bar isn’t even open on Sundays.”
“Lark said you had an audition,” Nick says, sounding a little embarrassed. “I was kind of hoping you’d let me watch, but when I pulled up and it was only your car out front, that seemed strange. I was waiting by the front door, wondering if I should check on you, when I heard you scream.”
“You’re smarter than I am.” I snuggle closer to his chest, not ready to leave the comfort of his arms.
“No, just street smart. I lived in a pretty bad neighborhood in Atlanta. Helped me learn to pay attention to my gut.”
“My gut knew something was off, too, but I kept second-guessing it, trying to be polite.”
“Fuck polite. The next time your gut sounds an alert with a guy like that, kick him in the balls and run first. Ask questions later.”
“I will,” I say, adding in a whisper. “Why did you want to watch my audition? I thought you couldn’t stand my face.”
“Of course, I can stand your face,” he says uncomfortably. “You have a really nice face.”
I step back, crossing my arms and arching a brow.
He exhales. “Right. Well…” He lifts his gaze to the ceiling. “The truth is, I may have had some trouble keeping your face out of my head the past few days.” He sighs heavily. “Maybe even a lot of trouble.”
“A lot of trouble,” I repeat, my eyes narrowing. “Why say it like that? Is thinking about me such a bad thing?”
“Um…noooo,” Nick says, drawing