Page 152 of Wild Thing
"Would you say you were trying to protect yourself?"
"I was in reputation management mode," I say truthfully. "I knew news would spread throughout the workplace once a formal complaint was made. Marie convinced me to do it though. I can't remember everything she said… I just knew she was right."
Dr. Crowe leans forward slightly, her pen poised over her notebook. “After you pressed charges, how did you feel?"
How did I feel? Like I wanted to fucking die.
Still do, actually. Fuck, I am so fucking sad and lost.
"Numb. Empty. Traumatized."
"What happened next?”
I pause, exhaling slowly. “I saw Brax for the last time.”
“And how did that go?”
I sigh and close my eyes.
I'll tell you how it went: Not well, bitch.
Forty-One
DYLAN
Sunday
Ipaced nervously around the hotel room, killing time. My suitcases were packed and neatly positioned near the door. Marie arranged a new room for me. I didn’t bother unpacking anything. It was just a place to wait before I needed to leave for the airport.
There was a knock at the door. I knew it would be Brax, but I checked the peephole just in case.
Steeling myself, I opened the door. “Hey.”
“Hi. Can I come in?”
I opened the door wide, indicating for him to follow me to the lounge where we sat down. Crossing my legs underneath myself, my knee grazed Brax’s thigh. I tried to ignore the zap that coursed through my body. There was still so much electricity between us.
“How’d it go with the police?”
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Steven will be charged.”
A couple of seconds passed.
“Wonder what his face looks like today?” Brax asked, breaking the silence.
“Fucked up six ways from Sunday.”
Brax smirked. "Be a hell of a mugshot.”
I replayed the brutal bashing Brax gave Steven. I'm surprised Steven wasn't in the hospital. I wondered if he would press charges against Brax. Criminal charges would be the fucking cherry on top. Brax didn't seem concerned, so I didn't ask.
"Thank you doesn't seem enough," I said softly.
He took my hand in his and gripped it tightly. The memories of what happened flashed across my mind again.
It sounded dramatic, but I really felt I owed him my life. I wanted to tell him how I really felt, tell him how grateful I was, how much I loved him.
But I couldn't. Instead, I tightened my jaw and stiffened as I remembered what I had to do. I pulled my hand back, changing the subject. “When’s your flight?”
