Page 61 of Ordinary Secrets

Trey’s mouth turns into a grimace. “He used to do this a lot, didn’t he? Mark you up.”

I nod, unable to respond any other way.

Leaning in to me, he gently says, “I will never hurt you the way he did. You have the power to stop me from touching you if you ever don’t want it, okay? Just saynoorstop, and I will.”

I gape into his eyes, trying to make sense of his confusing words. What does he mean that I can just saynoand he’ll actually stop?Is that even a thing?

I finish wrapping his hand, then pack up the first aid kit.

“Thank you, Doctor Rance,” Trey says, offering me a honeyed smile.

I smile back, and it’s not forced this time. “You’re welcome. I’ll bill you next week.”

“Can I pay you in the form of a dinner date?”

I don’t miss a beat. “It’s against the official doctor code for me to date my patients.”

“Hmm. That leaves us two options, then. Either you quit your job or I will find a new doctor.”

I’m not sure what comes over me. One second, I’m chuckling, and the next, I’m throwing myself into his chest. Trey doesn’t hesitate to circle his muscular arms around me as I bury my face into his shirt. The longer he holds me, the more warmth washes through me.

“Thank you,” I breathe as a tear drips down my cheek. It’s more from relief than anything. “You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to cut him out of my life.”

My throat closes up as I remember the threats Nathan used to hiss at me for saying I wanted out. He used to tell me he’d kill me before I could get away.

Trey draws back to look at me. “He’s out of your life now, baby. And I’ll be right here to make sure it stays that way.”

Because I don’t have the words to express my immense gratitude, I just smile at him. He smiles back, then pulls me closer against his hard body and holds me. Nothing else.

He doesn’t talk.

He doesn’t move.

He just holds me.

For the first time in years, I feel safe in a man’s arms.

18

TREY

I’ve got two options.

One: Don’t show up.

Two: Play it off like it’s no big deal.

I’d get more shit for ditching, so I text Liz and ask her to come to rehearsal early with her makeup bag. Then I suck it up and drive to the Soul House.

The second I enter the back door, Liz takes one look at me and plants a firm hand on her hip. “You know we have a show tonight, right? Like, in front of people?”

“Did you bring your makeup bag?”

She groans, glaring at me. “Sit your ass down so I can fix your face before the rest of the band comes, or more importantly, Monique.”

On the sectional, Liz slips off her gloves, then unrolls a bag with a collection of items I have no idea what to do with.

Liz remains quiet while she applies skin-colored goop to my purple cheek.

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