21

Lauren

I immediately call Eve, and she curses when she hears my tears. I can barely get a word out, but she lets me know she’s on her way to my room. Twenty minutes later, she shows up with a cold bottle of wine and a cozy sweat outfit.

“I’ve done something terrible,” I stutter out as she sits next to me on the bed. “There’s a side to Slade I haven’t really discussed with you in detail, but when he came over, I sort of just opened my mouth and told him so many things at once and I think I—”

She places a warm hand on my shoulder. “Take a breath, and let’s just start from the beginning.” Her eyes are concerned.

I break down, giving her all the dirty and dark facts, even dropping the bomb about the drugs I found inside his bedside table. When I get to last night, during the opening of Hook, her mouth drops open.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let him fuck me against the wall like that.”

“Let me see your back. Lift your shirt.” Her voice is no nonsense. This is the lawyer born and raised in New York City.

I turn around and let her raise it herself.

“Oh. My. God. Lauren, he hurt you. He really hurt you!”

“He didn’t mean it.” I turn around in a rush. “He was upset because I was talking to this guy, and—”

“Do you hear yourself? Do you? You sound like one of the women at our Center, trying to make excuses.”

“It’s not like that …”

I take in a hard breath as Alicia’s face smashes through my mind’s eye. The parallels between her and me aren’t imaginary. They are real. I’m making excuses, just as she did. I’m allowing a man to hurt me, physically and verbally. I stood up for myself to Slade, but I’m still trying to protect him to the outside.

“You’re allowed to be sexually wild with a man who respects you, but did he notice the pain in your face while you were having sex? There is no way you enjoyed that, Lauren. You must have been in agony.” She sadly bites her lip, but her voice is outraged. “The pattern of instability …” she continues. “I can’t believe Vincent hasn’t picked up on this. And where did that asshole go after you told him off?” She turns her head, looking at the door.

“I don’t know. He ran as though I’d stabbed him. It’s not his fault—what he does at night when he sleeps. He obviously has a severe case of PTSD. But the drugs I found, obviously illegal. The drinking …” I think about all the words I said to Slade only moments ago and the words I didn’t say.

“He needs help. That’s for sure. But it’s on Vincent and me, not you.”

“Why not me?”

“Because you’ve got a life to set up. You’ve been through enough shit these last weeks. Go back to California and straighten yourself out. That’s what you came here for. Look up degrees in social work. Think about your options. As I said before, there is always a place for you here, regardless of Slade. You should have a good life, Lauren. More than good.”