But he was too tired to figure it out now. Somehow he managed to get his body moving, bracing one hand on the marble tub to shove himself to his feet.

He looked at her hand, still outstretched. Waiting.

He didn’t want to touch her. Didn’t want to . . . dirty her.

Her eyes narrowed and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard. “I don’t know what you just thought, but I don’t ever want you to think it again. Okay? Just . . . don’t.” Her gaze softened. “Please, don’t. You don’t have to tell me, Diesel. You never have to tell anyone. But . . .” She pressed her lips together like she was trying not to cry anymore. Then blinked and sent new tears falling. “You waited for me for a long time. Don’t push me away now.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers, one at a time.

Relief was a tidal wave, sweeping him under. He tugged his hand free to wrap his arms around her, his stupid body still trembling. Her capable hands flattened on his back, hugging him so hard he almost coughed.

It felt better than words could say. So he said nothing, just held her back until his trembling ebbed. “You saw my computer screen?” he asked gruffly.

“One thing, yes.” He heard her swallow.

“Did . . . Who else saw? I should have closed it before I came in here.”

“Nobody. I was in our room when I heard the door to the office slam open. I went to check and saw you running for the bathroom and Michael coming out of his room. He gave me this look, Diesel. Like he knew. But he didn’t see your laptop.”

Thank God. “And Joshua?”

“With Agent Troy in the kitchen.” He felt her smile against his chest. “They’re making cookies.”

More relief swamped him. “I’m sorry. I should have made sure—”

She cut him off, pulling far enough away to press her fingers to his lips. “Stop. No harm done.”

“Yes, there was. You saw it.”

She sighed. “I’ve seen things like that before. Doesn’t get easier, but I saw child victims of sexual assault come through the ER. I sometimes see them in the clinic.”

His cheeks went hot now, shame replacing the relief. “You never threw up.”

She gave him another look, this one full of challenge. “Yes, I did. And I still do. Almost every time I see a patient who’s been sexually assaulted. Adults and kids. I wanted to on Saturday, after I saw that Michael was bleeding on my exam table. I knew what had been done to him. And I wanted to kill his stepfather then, too. I wanted to run from the exam room to my office and cry and vomit and scream.”

“But you didn’t.” She was a strong woman. Stronger than me.