“Come home with me.”
There was a startled silence in the room at the sound of the deep voice.
“Really?” Jenny found herself getting teary again. The thought of staying in that wonderful little house with Will was incredibly tempting. Just having him next to her made her feel safe and settled the deep panic that kept flaring up all too frequently.
“Really?” Pearl’s tone was more skeptical. Will met her eyes steadily and nodded.
“Thanks, Will. That would be great,” Jenny said.
“Are you sure?” Pearl asked her, looking from Jenny to Will.
“Positive.” Jenny’s eyes were definitely drooping now and her mother gave her hand a pat.
“Well that’s settled then.” She gave Will another hard glance. “You
will
take good care of my daughter?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Pearl considered him for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” she said firmly. “Get some sleep tonight.”
Jenny gave her mom a sleepy smile. “I will. Thanks, Mom.”
Pearl eyed the two men sharply. “I trust you both will be leaving shortly after I do so that Jenny can get some rest?” Somehow, it was more of a command than a question. Both men nodded obediently. Satisfied, Pearl left.
Will let his breath out. Christian grinned at him. “She’s something, huh? Wait until you meet the sisters.”
“Quit scaring him, Chris. The sisters aren’t
that
bad,” Jenny said unconvincingly.
“Uh-huh,” Christian said skeptically. “Whatever you say, dear.” He turned to Will and said in a mock-whisper, “You must humor the concussed one.”
Jenny looked for something to throw at him but had to content herself with flipping him off.
“Well, I’m out of here.” Christian leaned down to kiss Jenny’s cheek. “Don’t let this guy talk your ear off,” he said, nodding toward Will, who gave him a small grin. Jenny laughed a little.
“Bye, Chris. I’m glad you came.”
With a final wave, Christian bounced out of the door. His “I’ll call you” floated down the hallway to Jenny, who leaned back and closed her eyes, exhausted.
“Do you think he was talking to me or the cute nurse he bought the flowers for?” she asked Will, who had taken the chair by the bed. When there was no response, she opened one eye. Will was watching her somberly.
Such tragic eyes, as if what had happened to her had happened to him at the same time. Jenny offered him her hand and he wrapped his own around it, dwarfing hers. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles before lowering their clasped hands to the bed next to her. As Jenny prepared to let sleep overtake her, she wondered why Will’s touch was so reassuring when she couldn’t stand to have any of the nurses or doctors touch her in even the most clinical of ways.
She could only remember small flashes of her trip to the hospital and her first hours there. The rhythm of the seams in the road during the ambulance ride, lights—so many lights—flashing red and blue at the house, white in the emergency room, pen lights glaring into her eyes, fluorescents overhead that silhouetted strangers’ heads and blinded her. She’d had a rape exam and Jenny remembered screaming during it. It was stupid of her, a small part of her brain understood. They were trying to help her. She knew that, but it hurt and hands were touching her between her legs and Jenny was exposed and powerless to stop anyone from doing whatever they wanted with her.
The coldly logical part of her brain had reminded her how useless it was to cry out now, safe at the hospital, when she had been muted during most of the attack. It was as if her lungs had been trying too late to make up for their failure, for not doing their part to protect her body.
So she had screamed and screamed and the nurse told her later that it had taken a medical student, two interns and a nearby janitor to keep Will, waiting in the hallway, from crashing into her exam room.
Jenny’s mother had driven home to Rochester the night before and an unexpected snow had kept her away from the hospital the next morning. Pearl lived on a turn-around street with almost no traffic, so it would be at least another day before the snowplows got around to clearing it.
She called Jenny, who was both disappointed and relieved—it had been reassuring to have her no-nonsense mom around but Jenny would like to feel a little less fragile before she had to be the buffer between her mother and Will. The CIA had nothing on Pearl when it came to interrogation techniques.
Will had brought her clothes from her house. She had to press a smile away when she looked through the duffel bag he’d proudly placed on the bed. He had packed almost every single pair of panties that she owned, even the ragged cotton granny-panties that she had forgotten lived at the very bottom of her underwear drawer. Jenny had a moment of embarrassment that Will even saw the white monstrosities. He must be a strong believer in the “you should always have clean underwear” maxim.
She wasn’t so lucky with her bra selection. Will had chosen only three—all of them wispy, lacy bits of nothing. Jenny held one up and sighed. What she really needed was her sturdy, comfortable support bra that clipped in front—not as pretty but much more practical and easier to get into.
She dug through the rest of the clothes and found some yoga pants—for those, she forgave him for the deficiencies in his bra selections—and a hoodie sweatshirt that zipped up the front. He must have just grabbed a handful of socks, because none matched. She did find two wool ones that looked kind of like a pair, if you didn’t look too closely and were colorblind.
Will was waiting to help her dress but he was muddled together in Jenny’s mind with sex and nakedness and self-consciousness and she didn’t want him seeing her battered body, the bruises and scratches livid on her skin. She still felt the taint of Evan’s touch clinging to her, hovering around her like a nasty smell. It was one thing to have Will hold her hand but another to let him see her naked, marked flesh. She wasn’t ready for that yet.
She opened her mouth, trying to think of a way to explain how she felt without hurting his feelings, and then shut it again without speaking. Jenny wasn’t supposed to feel shame and embarrassment for something that wasn’t her fault—she knew that. She was
supposed
to feel cleansing rage and pride of survival and other empowering emotions, but it didn’t matter. She just knew that if she had to strip naked in front of Will right now, she would just curl up into a huddled ball of humiliation and wish to die.
He was watching her as she stood unmoving in her backless hospital gown, her wild thoughts rampaging through her head. It ended up that she didn’t have to say anything.
“I’ll get a nurse,” he told her and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
Angie, a petite brunette nurse, popped in just moments later.
“Need a hand?” she asked.
Angie was efficient, touching her as briefly as possible, for which Jenny was grateful. She was soon dressed with a minimum of pain or fuss.
“Thanks, Angie,” Jenny told the nurse as she zipped up the duffel.
“No problem. You take care and just let us know if you need the name of someone to talk to, okay?”
A rape counselor had stopped by but the idea of talking about what had happened, especially to a stranger, was horrifying to Jenny. The counselor had left her with a card and instructions to “call anytime”. Jenny had thrown the card away.
Now she just nodded, fussing with the zipper tab on her sweatshirt.
“Go get that handsome man of yours,” Angie said, grinning. “The rest of the nurses are ready to tackle him and have their way with him. You better not leave him on his own too long.”
Jenny gave a huff of laughter at the thought of Will running from a hoard of nurses. She hobbled to the door—holy balls, every muscle in her body hurt—and swung it open. Will was leaning against the wall, arms across his chest, staring at the floor with a moody expression.
“Hey,” Jenny said. His wary gaze shot to her and he pushed away from the wall. Will took a step forward and then hesitated.
“Ready to blow this joint?” she asked with a tentative smile.
“You don’t—” He looked away, rubbing a hand over his head and blowing out a hard breath. “You don’t have to go to my house if you don’t want to. I’ll take you home or to Christian’s or your mom’s or wherever you want to go.”
It was Jenny’s turn to flinch. “Don’t you want me there?” she asked, hating the little-girl-lost note in her voice.
“Yes! I want…” Will moved another step closer to her. “I
do
want you to come home with me. But if you’re afraid…you don’t have to.”
“Will.” Jenny closed the distance between them and slid her arms around his hard waist. His body went rigid and it was like hugging a statue.
A warm, breathing statue with a racing heartbeat
, she thought, resting her ear against his chest and breathing in his Will smell. “How could I be afraid of you?” she asked.
Will’s hand cupped her skull so gently that it didn’t hurt any of her various lumps and sore spots. “I would never hurt you,” he said, the bass in his voice shuddering through her. “I’m not like him.”
“Of course you’re not,” Jenny said in surprise when his words finally registered. She pulled her head back a little so she could see his face. He was staring hard over her head, his jaw muscles bunched so tightly they were vibrating.
“Will.” She laid a hand on each cheek, soothing those tense muscles with her fingertips and gently tipping his face until he met her eyes. “I’d never think you were
anything
like him. You’re the opposite of him—the anti-Evan. The dressing thing wasn’t because I was scared of you. I mean, it
was
, but only because I didn’t want you to see me. I’m embarrassed about how I look right now…the bruises and everything…so ugly.” Jenny’s hands slid away from his face and she dropped her eyes to his chest.
Will lowered his head until his forehead was touching hers, creating a closed space that held just the two of them. “You’re not ugly. You could
never
be ugly. You’re
hurt
.”
He turned his face and his rough cheek rubbed lightly against her temple. Something contracted hard inside her chest, forcing tears up behind her eyes and nose. Jenny concentrated on blocking their exit, pushing them back down where they came from. If she started to cry, she didn’t think she could stop until there was nothing left of her.
“Your wheels are here,” said a cheery voice—Angie. She rolled a wheelchair toward them. Jenny knew it was traditional to complain about the ride out but she was grateful. Whether from the muscle strain or emotional turmoil, her legs were definitely shaky. Will pulled away from her with a small sigh and helped her to sit.
“Go grab her bag, Tarzan, and we’ll get this show on the road.” Angie was already pushing Jenny down the hall toward the exit.
The drive home was cold. Most of the snowstorm that had trapped her mother had missed them and only sparse snowflakes spun off the windshield of Will’s car. She could tell he was driving carefully, avoiding any possible bumps or swerves that would jar her sore body. The heater was on full blast but Jenny was still freezing. She shivered and each vibration made her head pound a little more.
After what seemed like hours, although it was only a few miles from the hospital to his house, Will pulled into his driveway. Even feeling as sick and sore as she did, Jenny felt a glad warmth at the sight of the welcoming purple house. Will opened her car door and helped her out. By this time, her shivers had turned to shudders and she had to clamp her sore jaw tightly closed to stop her teeth from chattering.
“Are you okay?” Will asked with concern. He looked ready to shove her back into the car and take her back to the hospital.
“Fine.” Jenny’s voice was tight. All she wanted to do was get inside and go to bed. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to walk but she could do it. Going back to the hospital, with the probing lights and questions and examining hands, was
not
an option.
The world suddenly tilted and she thought she was fainting until Jenny realized that Will had picked her up.
Good
, she thought woozily.
That solves the whole walking problem.
She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest as he managed to unlock the door, let them both in and fend off a hysterically happy Rosie, all without dropping Jenny on the floor. In a half-conscious way, she was impressed. Mostly, though, she was just very, very tired. Will climbed the stairs and Jenny remembered the last time he had carried her up these stairs, under very different circumstances. Was that just three days ago? Four?
Too tired to do math
, she thought, giving up the effort.
Finally, the wonderful softness of a bed surrounded her, cushioning her sore muscles and pulling her deeply into sleep. Her last awareness was Will pulling off her boots.
The images came in stuttering strobe lights. She saw movement, the shadowed outline of a man’s shoulder, then darkness. A flash and he was in front of her, Evan and not Evan, the flesh of his face curling away, widening his grin obscenely.
Run!
Her mind screamed but her muscles were frozen, her legs as stiff and useless as a mannequin’s. He was dressed in a multicolored clown suit and his erection, glowing red and cartoonishly large, poked out between two of his puffball buttons. Clown Evan looked down at it and then his empty eyes focused on her.