“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Gage asked her quietly, his breath hot on her neck as he held her captive. He was trying to nestle and hold her in a reassuring way – the rational part of her could tell that was true – but as far as she was concerned, trapped was trapped, and whether the trapping was done with ropes of silk or metal chains, she was still stuck exactly where she didn’t want to be – on a guy’s lap.
And not just any guy. Oh no, of course not. This was a huge, muscle-bound, could-squash-her-flat-if-he-wanted-to guy.
She wanted to struggle again but she was tired from the first bout and then there was the awful fact that he sounded so reasonable. So calm and friendly and caring, as if spilling her guts to him should be an easy thing to do.
“No.”
She sounded truculent even to her own ears, probably because she was being truculent, but despite her best truculescent (was that a word? It should definitely be a word) efforts to drive him away, he seemed completely unmovable. A human version of the granite cliffs that made the Goldfork Mountains so beautiful.
But this…this wasn’t beauty. This was him being a jackass. She wanted him to pull away, to wash his hands of her and leave. Why did this bastard insist on being there? Couldn’t he just walk away? Couldn’t he just abandon her like everyone else had and get it over with already? Waiting for the other shoe to drop was exhausting. Terrifying.
But he didn’t leave and his muscular arms were encircling her, holding her loosely, but she’d already figured out that that was a trick. Like those Chinese finger traps she used to play with as a kid, the harder she struggled, the more trapped she was. She’d already tried every self-defense trick in the book on him and it hadn’t made a damn bit of difference.
Self-defense…She’d studied up on that particular topic like her life’d depended on it – because it did – and it was from that in-depth study that she’d learned that a woman of her stature had to go for the more delicate parts of the male body: The eyeballs or the groin.
No matter how Goliath a guy was, nobody could handle being hit there.
But as hard as she’d fought, Gage had deftly protected those delicate parts of his body, all while simultaneously keeping her from wiggling free of his grasp. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn he had ten hands.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” he repeated in the darkness, just as quietly, just as…as caring as before, and somehow, this broke her. Broke through her defenses. Or maybe it was because she had no choice. Or maybe it was because he was so quiet, so calm, no matter what she threw at him.
Whatever the reason was, she found herself talking, almost without meaning to, but before she could stop herself or reconsider, it was all just spilling out, an avalanche of pain tearing through her.
“I was an assistant physical therapist,” she said in a monotone voice. “Went to school at Boise State and got my degree in sports medicine. Afterwards, I started working for a physical therapist’s office in Boise that specialized in working with the student athletes who were attending BSU. It was…fine. I’m actually not much into sports – like, at all – and had stupidly thought when I got my degree that I’d be working with people who hurt themselves doing yoga or something. Which, in retrospect, was a really idiotic thing to think.” She laughed bitterly at her ignorance. She sure had been dumb. “Of course I’d be working with football players who got hit wrong at practice. Why I ever thought otherwise…” She sighed.
He was rubbing her back in small, slow circles, and it was soothing, and for a moment, she wondered if this was how a baby felt – wrapped up in someone’s arms who was bigger and stronger than them, being soothed by hands that seemed to be large enough to take on the world.
She wasn’t sure what that meant, comparing herself to a baby. Nothing that she really wanted to think too hard about, that was for damn sure.
“There was a football player from BSU who came in – took a fall wrong during a game and did a real number on his knee. We worked together three times a week on it, and he was starting to make great strides. The entire time that we worked on his knee, he would brag to me about some amazing pass he’d intercepted or caught or thrown…I don’t even know. I’d just nod and say ‘Uh-huh’ occasionally, and that satisfied him that I was listening. He acted like he was God’s gift to the earth because he had ‘mad handling skills.’ I didn’t think much about it, or about him – if nothing would’ve happened, a year later, I wouldn’t have even been able to tell you his name or what he looked like. He was just one more dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks jock who had three brain cells to rub together, and two were preoccupied with his dick at all times.”
She stopped then, waiting for him to jump to the guy’s defense. She’d seen the way that Gage had tackled Richard just minutes before. He looked like he’d done it hundreds of times. Cady was willing to bet next year’s salary that Gage had played football at least in high school, if not in college.
So Gage would pipe up here and say that playing football was difficult and required lots of brainpower and then she could argue back that the mere ability to catch or throw a piece of pig skin around did not make you special, and then they could get off on that topic and never, ever come back to this one and…
Nothing.
He didn’t rise to the bait. He refused to get sidetracked away from this godawful story and onto a topic that was impersonal and not in the least bit painful.
She really, really hated him now.
Finally, the infernal silence got under her skin, and with an irritated huff, she continued on. “It was our last appointment together. I was just checking him over – doing some range of motion tests – and then turned to get his paper file from off the counter when he…”
Except now that she’d gotten to it – the bad part, the part she relived again and again in her dreams – her throat was tightening and the panic that was beating through her made it hard to think – run away, run away – and she wanted to throw up on his shoes – it’d serve him right for pushing her to talk like this – and her breaths were coming in short bursts and the world was turning dark around the edges and she was struggling to get free because she wanted to be anywhere, anywhere at all but there.
Please just let me go…
“Oof!” A puff of air blew out past her cheek and she realized that Gage was gasping for air and somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind she realized that she’d elbowed him in the stomach in her panic but still, he wasn’t letting her go.
“Then what happened, Cady?” he asked quietly, but there was an edge of pain in his voice that wasn’t there before.
She was torn between feeling guilty for hurting him, and feeling triumphant for hurting him.
“He grabbed me,” she whispered, trying to push back the darkness crowding in around the edges of her vision. Breathe, Cady. Breathe. “I hadn’t been expecting it, and was just reaching for that damn folder – I was just about there – and then his arms were around me. Pinning me down. Hand over my mouth. Told me to shut up. That I wanted this. That I’d been teasing him and taunting him for months now, and it was time that I got what I’d been begging for.” The words were acrid on her tongue and the bile was rising higher, the acid burning her throat, and she was quite sure then that she’d throw up all over Gage and a small part of her mind wanted to, in retribution for forcing her to go through this pain.
Bastard, bastard, bastard – why are you making me tell this story?
“Then what happened, Cady?” he whispered in the darkness.
She swallowed hard, forcing the bile down enough to let words out. Just a little bit longer, and it’d be over.
Just breathe, Cady, breathe.
“I bit down on his hand as hard as I could,” she admitted. “I heard later that he had to get stitches.”
She chuckled a little at the thought, a dry, humorless laugh. Oh, the number of times she’d dreamt about him being stupid enough to stick his dick in her mouth. She would’ve really extracted some revenge then.
Except then she would have the memory of the feel and taste of his dick in her mouth and…
She pushed that horrific thought aside.
“He yanked his hand back,” she continued on, monotone, “but I still wasn’t free because he was stuffing his shirt into my mouth instead, and my arms were pinned by my side, and I couldn’t get any leverage to kick him in the balls. I don’t know…this next part…”
She drew in a deep breath. Almost there, almost there, almost there.
“I’ve tried to remember what happened next – even went under hypnosis one time to see if they could help me remember – but it’s just this blur and in the end, all I know is that my clothing was either torn to shreds or gone completely, and that I finally got my foot free enough to kick as hard as I could against the examining table. It was steel and the heel of my knee-high boot against it caused quite the racket. A nurse walking by popped her head in to see what was going on and found us rolling around on the floor…”
Gage was smoothing his hand down over her hair, again and again, saying nothing, just listening.
“The police came, my boss was in there, and I couldn’t stop shaking…I was mostly naked other than my boots and finally, one of the nurses found some blankets and wrapped me up in them. The police took the guy away as soon as they got there so I didn’t have to look at him, but I’ll never forget what he looks like.”
She cuddled against Gage’s broad chest – his frighteningly huge, muscular chest – and sighed. She’d only gotten through the story in its entirety from start to finish one other time – when she’d told her parents what had happened – and she felt boneless now, as if every bit of what made her her had been sucked out and wrung out and hung out to dry.
“What was the guy’s excuse?” Gage asked, and she swore she could feel the question as much as she could hear it. The rumble against her cheek…she nestled down further. It was warm here in his arms, even with the cold nighttime temperature outside trying to seep in through the doors and windows, and if she could just melt into his body heat, she’d be happy then – happy for the rest of her life.
Never move again.
It sounded lovely.
“Excuse?” she finally mumbled.
“Yeah. He would never admit that he’d actually tried to rape you. So what piss-poor excuse did he try to give?”
Cady could’ve kissed him then.
Could have, but didn’t, of course.
He believes me.
No questions.
No, “Are you sure you didn’t lead him on?” No, “Are you sure it wasn’t just some sort of crude come-on move?” No, “What did you wear to work to make him think he could do this to you?” No assumptions at all that she was at fault when you got right down to the heart of the matter.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. A little too stunned to take it in properly, honestly.
“He said…” She drew in a deep breath. “He said that it was all a big misunderstanding.” She snorted a little at that. It really was the most ridiculous defense on the planet. “That I had started to fall over and that he’d tried to catch me, and that this had made me think that I was being attacked so I’d fought him and he’d just tried to protect himself from me…it was total bullshit. Everyone knew it. The story had more holes in it than a block of Swiss cheese.”
“What happened to him?” Quiet. Steady. Unwavering.
“The usual,” she said sarcastically. This part – this was almost more painful than the attempted rape had been. The aftermath. She’d been so scarred by it all, and he went right back to his life as if nothing had happened.
Because to him, it had been nothing.
“He was forced to write me a letter of apology for the ‘misunderstanding,’ the university paid out a large settlement to keep me quiet, and he was back on the field the next season. He’s playing in the NFL now. I hate it, you know – part of the agreement is I can’t ever speak publicly about this. I can’t even tell you his name. Last year, a small story showed up about a domestic violence charge being brought against him by his girlfriend but she dropped it soon after and it didn’t make big waves. I only know because I have a Google Alert set up for the bastard. I want to know every time he twitches his nose. He’s playing for a team on the East Coast, far, far away from here, so at least that’s a consolation.”
It was quiet then between them as Gage thought through what she’d just said.
“Why aren’t you still working as a physical therapist?” he asked, still just as quiet and steady as ever.
What would it be like to be this steady and calm?
She had been once. If she strained hard enough, she could remember back to a time when she’d been friendly and outgoing and cheerful and steady as a rock.
That was Innocent Cady, though, and that version of her was long gone.
“I tried,” she admitted. Failure. She was nothing but one big ball of failure. “I went back to work the next week. Walked into an examination room – not the same one; they weren’t stupid enough to give me the same room again – and the panic just closed in on me from all sides and I threw up in the trash can. Told them I had the flu and went home. Tried one other time, and…couldn’t. Suddenly, every athlete was just way too big and strong for me and every one of them freaked me the hell out just by walking into the room. I know you probably haven’t noticed,” she said wryly, “but I tend towards the smaller side, and pound-for-pound, I was outmatched. Even the long-distance runners on the BSU track team had a weight and height advantage on me. Women get hurt too, but not nearly as often or as badly as guys do, and anyway, the little appeal that physical therapy had held for me had disappeared completely by that point.”
Another long silence and then, “Is this why you hate it when I walk up behind you?”
She flinched. She wanted to lash out at him. What made him think he had the right to ask all of these questions? What business was it of his anyway?
But then a small voice peeped up, quiet and niggling and oh-so-terribly correct, that the real reason she hated the question was because he was right.
Why did he have to be right? Why did he have to keep pushing and prodding at every single sore spot on her soul?
“Probably,” she equivocated, and then paused.
And groaned.
“Yes,” she finally admitted. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I didn’t used to jump at every little sound and noise and movement. That’s definitely a new development. And someone coming up from behind? That’s the worst.”
She felt his chin rub up against the top of her head as he nodded, and then, just as she thought they were done excavating her soul and they could go on to do something fun for a change, like shoving wooden toothpicks under her fingernails or something else equally as delightful, he went a step too far.
“Have you talked to someone about this? A therapist or something?”
And with that, the loose-boned feeling disappeared – gone in the blink of an eye. She bolted straight up and folded her arms over her chest protectively.
Dammit all, he’d really gone and stepped in it this time. It was bad enough that he thought he could force her into talking about the worst day of her life – he didn’t need to imply she was insane at the same time.
“I don’t need a psychiatrist!” she snapped. “I’m not crazy. I just went through something hard, is all. People go through hard things all the time, and aren’t crazy afterwards.”
“Whoa, whoa,” he said, holding up his hands. “No one said you’re crazy—”
She shifted on his lap so she could really glare at him – she could get a good glare going when she had a mind to – when they both felt it.
Directly underneath her ass was the start of a hard-on. Her eyes got wide, his eyes got wide, and they just stared at each other, dead silence between them for a moment.
“It’s just a biological reaction,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry. You’re a cute girl, wiggling your ass across my lap…I can’t control…”
But that didn’t make her feel any better. A guy who’s not able to control his lust?
No, no, no, that did not make her feel better, not one little bit.
The panic was welling up again and instinctively, she fumbled for the door handle and this time, he didn’t try to stop her. She spilled out onto the cold ground and then scrambled to her feet, brushing off her knees even as she demanded, “Go! Go away. Get out of my car. I’m going to go home now.”
He looked around the interior of her vehicle as if surprised to see that he was, in fact, in her Jeep, and then pushed himself out of it, palms out. “It’s fine. I’m not going to attack you,” he said slowly. “I’m just gonna walk back up to the party. You could come back with me. Are you sure you want to leave?”
That was such a ridiculous question, she didn’t even bother answering it. Did he honestly think she’d stay now? After what just happened?
They sure did grow them big and beautiful and stupid up in the mountains of Idaho.
She was shaking – shaking so hard – and a part of her realized that she was right back where she’d started. Except now, Gage knew everything there was to know about her. All of the bad stuff was laid out in the open, and she still didn’t feel any better.
She marched on wobbly legs to the driver’s side and slid in, slamming the door closed behind her and breathing in deep. Calm down. It’s going to be fine.
Except the faint smell of sugar and yeast and flour was left behind, a smell she was beginning to associate with Gage. It was drifting through the car, taunting her. Even a simple birthday party ended in disaster when she was involved.
Her Jeep roared to life and, slamming her foot to the floor, she tore backwards out of the parking space and into the street. She realized with an inward grimace as she threw her Jeep into drive that she’d forgotten to check her mirrors before roaring out into the street. It’d been nothing but sheer luck that she hadn’t run straight into someone.
Well, at least she’d had one tiny piece of luck today.
God only knew that in every other aspect of her life, she hadn’t had even that.