“Hey, come on, don’t cry,” he begs. “It breaks my fucking heart to hear you cry.”
But I can’t stop. I gulp for air and shudder in his arms, and he strokes my hair and makes rough, soothing noises that only make me cry harder.
“I’m broken.”
My voice is muffled against his neck, but I hear his voice loud and clear as he says, “You’re not broken, baby. I promise.”
“Then help me prove it,” I whisper. “Please.”
He gently pulls my head up. I meet his gaze and find nothing but raw emotion and shining sincerity.
“Okay,” he whispers back. Then he lets out a long, unsteady breath. “Okay. I will.”
23
Garrett
Half the guys in the weight room are hung-over as hell. I, surprisingly, am not one of them. Nope, this morning’s revelations pretty much zapped away any headache or queasiness I might have felt.
Hannah was raped.
Those three words have been running through my head since I dropped her off at her dorm, and every time they pop up, red-hot fury blasts through me like a freight train. I wish she’d told me his name, his phone number, his fucking address.
But it’s better that she hadn’t, otherwise I’d probably be in my car right now on my way to commit murder.
Whoever he was, I hope to God he paid for what he did to Hannah. I hope to God he’s rotting in jail at the moment. Or better yet, I hope he’s fucking dead.
“Two more.” Logan looms over me as I lie on the bench press. “Come on, man, you’re slacking.”
I blow out a breath and curl my fingers around the barbell. I channel all my rage into heaving the weights over my head, as Logan spots me from above. Once I finish the last set of reps, he drops the bar in the rack and sticks out his hand. I allow him to haul me to my feet and we switch places.
Christ, I need to get my head on right. Thank fuck we’re not on the ice today because I’m not sure I even remember how to skate at the moment.
Hannah was raped.
And now she wants to have sex with me.
No, she wants me to fix her.
Holy mother of God. What was I thinking, agreeing to do this? I’ve wanted her naked ever since that first kiss, but not like this. Not as some kind of sexuality experiment. Not when I’m feeling this much pressure to…to what? Make it good for her? Not let her down?
“Any time now,” comes Logan’s mocking voice.
I snap out of my distressed thoughts and realize that he’s waiting for me to drop the barbell into his outstretched hands.
Taking a breath, I force myself to focus on making sure Logan doesn’t die on my watch rather than obsessing over Hannah.
“So I’m pissed at you,” he tells me as he bends his arms and brings the bar low to his chest. Then he grunts out a breath and lifts.
“What did I do now?” I ask with a sigh.
“You told me you weren’t interested in Wellsy.”
My chest tenses, but I pretend to be unfazed as I count out his set. “I wasn’t, at least not when you and I talked about it before.”
Logan grunts with each upward extension of his arms. We’re both lifting twenty pounds less than usual because last night’s drink fest means neither one of us is operating at a hundred percent today.
“So, what, now you are interested?”
I swallow. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Logan doesn’t say anything else. My fingers hover beneath the barbell as he finishes his reps.