Page 43 of Protected from Malice
Then he just stands there with his hands on the windowsill, his entire body vibrating with tension.
Or is it anger?
Disgust?
His fist slams onto the windowsill with a heavy thud.
My stomach curls into itself.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I couldn’t?—”
Rafe spins back around to face me.
All his emotions are right there, carved into every feature.
Pain.
Devastation.
Fury.
“Don’t be sorry.” His eyes close for a second before reopening. “Eden. Don’t be sorry. Don’t… Shit. Fuck.” He hits the windowsill again. “It’s not your fault.”
And even though I know he’s right, even though I’ve been through this with my counselor over and over, I can’t ignore that little voice in my head that asks,What if? What if I’d come home earlier? What if I’d had my pepper spray in hand? What if I’d run the moment I heard the footsteps?
“I should have driven around until I found a closer parking spot,” I reply weakly. “Or?—”
“No.” Rafe leaves the window and comes back over to me. He stares at the mattress for a few seconds before sitting again. This time he leaves a few feet between us. He doesn’t reach for my hand.
A dagger slashes across my heart.
That silent voice whispers,He’ll never look at me the same way again.
After a few seconds, he asks, “Did they catch him? The police?”
“No. I never saw his face. Just… his clothes. Jeans. A dark jacket. A ring. But nothing that could help.”
Rafe’s tone is carefully controlled. “But the police were involved?”
“Yes. I called them right away. But… the man. He wasn’t in the system. And without a description, there was nothing to go on.”
“Fuck.” He takes a few deep breaths. “And you think… Shit. It could be him. Coming back.”
My breath catches. “Maybe.”
Rafe shifts so he’s facing me. Then he touches my hand. I drag my gaze from my lap to meet his.
For a moment, I can’t breathe.
Not from the memories. But from the pain in his eyes.
“Does Indy know?” he finally asks.
“No. When it happened, you guys were overseas. Even if I could have gotten a hold of Indy, I wouldn’t have told him. Not then. He would have wanted to come home. It would have distracted him. Put him in danger. Put all of you in danger.”
Rafe sighs. “And after—” He stops. “Shit. Then he got hurt.”
“I couldn’t tell him then, Rafe.” I turn pleading eyes to him. “It’s not like I wanted to keep it a secret. But he almostdied. Then there were the months of surgeries. Rehab. You know how depressed he was. I was scared he’d—” Fresh tears spill free. “How could I tell him something that would make him feel worse?”
