away from my face. He tugged the strands away from where they clung to my lips.
It didn’t hurt, but a flash of another man, another time, pulsed in my brain and my scar sizzled with the tug. I yelped, gagging on his erection, and when I pulled back, smoothing my bangs into place over my scar, there was a smear of blood on my fingers.
My body convulsed out of nowhere, and I was suddenly shaking so hard that I must have looked like I was having a seizure. The blood. Streaming down my face. My screams echoed in the recesses of my mind. A man’s sweat dripping onto me like water torture. Grunting, pushing into me as I gagged on him over and over.
The dizziness was too much. Hands. My hands…my feet—I needed something to push on. To remember the here and now. But Tate couldn’t see me like this. I stumbled to the side of the bed, shoving my legs into my jeans and scrambling into my shirt.
“Shelby, what the fuck…what’s going on? Are you okay?” He was right in front of me, but his voice sounded miles away. And that’s where he needed to stay. Miles away. I was too fucked up to behave normally. Why the hell could I have mediocre sex with other guys, but the second I enjoyed myself with Tate and gave in to what my body wanted, my brain freaked out? It wasn’t fucking fair.
I looked again at my hand, and the blood was still there. I had no idea anymore what the hell was real and what wasn’t. Nothing hurt…did it? Was I in pain and I didn’t realize it yet? As I ran for the elevator, I brought a hand to my scar, feeling it…there were no cuts, no open wounds, no pain. So, what was bleeding?
Tate’s hand clamped on my elbow, and I yelped as he jerked me back into his chest. “Shelby, stop, it’s okay. Look at me…” I clenched my eyes shut, not wanting to be here, having this conversation. I wanted to be home, in bed, under the covers.
My knees were still shaking as I pressed the elevator call button. “Please, Tate, just let me go.”
I looked down at his hand around my arm—the blood. It was his. His hand. Relief and shame rushed out of me like a broken dam, and I nearly broke into a fit of tears right there. “Oh my God,” I whispered, swiping at my running nose. The tears were already falling, and there was no stopping them.
“I’m so sorry…I thought—” He started and then stopped. “I thought my hand was fine, but our movement must have opened it again.” He held up his palm, which clenched a red-soaked tissue. “See? Fine. I’m fine. It’s fine—”
Fine. That word. I hated it. I must have said it a million different times to a million different people after “the incident,” as my stepfather always called that night. He refused to acknowledge it as anything else. The elevator door pinged open, and a sob trembled in my chest as I shook my head.
“But I’m anything but fine,” I whispered, getting in and hitting the button for fourteen. The elevator doors shut slowly, and as they closed, I saw a flicker of understanding pass across Tate’s face.
Chapter Thirteen
SHELBY
By the time I got downstairs to my apartment, I was already shaking less. My stuff. My books. My pictures. My mom’s smile caught my eye, and my lip trembled as I lifted the picture frame, running a finger down her face. She was thin but curvy back when this image was taken. So different from the shell of the woman cancer had left behind. Here, she was beautiful, with this constant light that shone from the inside out. It was like a beacon that would call people to her. She made friends with just about anyone—unlike me.
Closed off.
Scared of everything and everyone.
She was my opposite in every way.
I gulped a ragged breath, swallowed it, and placed the frame back on the shelf. She and Reagan were more alike than I cared to admit; I think that was what pulled me into the friendship in the first place. Though far from maternal, she reminded me of Dee Stevens.
There was a quiet knock at my door. “Shelby,” Tate whispered. “Let’s—I don’t know, let’s talk.”
My jaw clenched, and though it was irrational, I pressed against the wall, barely moving, barely breathing, as though this would help conceal me behind a closed,