by T. K. Leigh
“So what’s next?” I ask.
“Her bail’s been set,” Sophia states in an authoritative voice. “The DA requested two fifty, but I got them to lower it to one hundred.”
I’d prepared myself for this, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear that they believe Londyn to be such a threat to society that they’d set bail in an amount she’d never be able to afford.
“Even though she acted in self-defense?”
“Like I told you,” Sophia replies in a soothing tone, “when determining bail, all they care about is her probability of appearing in court to answer for any charges filed against her.”
“So what do they need? I assume the great state of Georgia doesn’t accept personal checks for that amount of money.”
She laughs under her breath, the moment of levity welcome. “You assume correctly. If you want to post a cash bond, it needs to be in the form of a cashier’s check, money order, or cold, hard cash. The other option is to put up a property bond.”
“We’re happy to put up our house as collateral,” Diego offers, stepping forward. “We don’t want you to feel like you have to bear this burden alone, Wes.”
“And I appreciate that.” I smile, grateful that, even if Londyn and I had never crossed paths, she still has people in her life willing to help, to go above and beyond. Then again, if Londyn and I had never crossed paths, I doubt she’d be in this situation right now. “But I have the cash. I reached out to my money manager last night to alert him to the situation. He just needs the final amount to prepare the cashier’s check.”
“Here.” Sophia pulls a file out of her bag and hands me a slip of paper. “This is the precise amount of her bond.”
I squint at the small type. “If her bail’s only a hundred grand, why is the total over one fifty?”
“The state likes to add fees to everything.”
“Of course they do,” I mutter under my breath as I retrieve my phone from my pocket, then fire off a quick text to my money manager with the full amount. He instantly responds that he’ll have it for me to pick up within the half-hour. I shudder to think what I’d do if I didn’t have resources at my disposal.
I look back at Sophia. “Now what?”
“Once you’ve got the money, you’ll post bail. Also, you’ll need to bring her some clothes to go home in.”
“Clothes?”
She nods. “They had to take her clothes as evidence.”
“Evidence? Wh—”
“They were covered in blood, Wes.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching my lips together.
“Bring the money and her clothes to the bail office,” she continues. “After that, they’ll have to do a bit of paperwork, so it’ll take a few hours for her to be released. Once that happens, they’ll alert the police department, which will then send an officer to her house.”
“Why?” I demand, my jaw twitching. “Isn’t it enough they arrested her for something any reasonable woman in her shoes would do? Now they’re sending a cop to her house? Her only place of sanctuary and peace?”
“One of the conditions of her bail is to surrender all of her firearms.”
“But she acted in self-defense!” I counter once again, my blood boiling more with every passing second.
“It’s useless to get angry over something we can’t control. Like I explained—”
“I know, I know,” I interrupt with a labored sigh. “That will come out during the next phase.”
“Precisely.” She smiles compassionately. “Right now, your sole focus needs to be on Londyn’s mental well-being. Nothing else. She’s going through something most people can’t even begin to imagine. The next few days…hell, weeks are going to be trying. It’s most likely only going to get more difficult. Just show her you respect her. That you love her. That you believe her.”
She looks from me to Hazel and Diego, then back at me. “Trust me when I say that this type of case is never easy. There’s a reason only thirty-five percent of rapes are reported.”
“Thirty-five percent?” I ask incredulously.
“And of that thirty-five percent, only fifteen lead to an arrest. Of that fifteen percent, only ten percent are convicted. So of all the rapes that occur, less than one percent lead to a conviction, a statistic that is so far below the trend for every other crime, it’s disgusting. And if you think that’s bad, you should look at the same numbers for Hispanic and black women. It’s even lower, especially if the perpetrator is white.”
“Is this supposed to be your pep talk that this asshole’s finally going to answer for his actions? Because if you’re trying to cheer me up with these statistics, you missed the mark, Soph.”
“I’m not trying to cheer you up. I’m telling you the statistics so you’re prepared. And also to explain why the best thing you can do is offer Londyn your unwavering support. To never question her. If she knows you’re on her side, perhaps she’ll fight even when she’s on the brink of giving up. Even when she feels like the world is out to get her.”
I struggle to breathe through the lump in my throat. Hearing these statistics is a rude awakening, shattering the rose-colored glasses I’ve worn most of my life. I should have known better, especially after all the time I spent with Gampy.
“She’s a fighter,” I manage to say.
“I know she is. You know she is.” Sophia squeezes my arm. “Now you need to help Londyn see that she is, too.”
Chapter Six
Londyn
I smooth a hand down my sweater and jeans, savoring the feel of the fabric, something I’ve never truly appreciated until this moment. Until spending nearly twenty-four hours dressed in a scratchy, orange jumpsuit, the material made of the lowest thread count possible. It’s no wonder the judge set an unreasonable bail. I actually looked like a criminal when I walked into that courtroom for my hearing. But as Sophia assured me, Wes would get me out. And he did.
In truth, the prospect of seeing Wes is more nerve-wracking than sitting in court and listening to the numerous offenses I’d been booked on. Will he understand why I did what I did? Will he still stand by my side? Or will he be like everyone else in my life and abandon me when I need him the most?
I still don’t know what to expect when I see him. Part of me wonders if this entire ordeal will be easier on both of us if he keeps his distance.
But that’s at odds with the part of me that’s grown to crave him for my own serenity. My own comfort. My own security. He’s done what I didn’t think any man would ever do again. He’s chased away my demons. I need that more than ever right now.
I struggle to keep my eyes open as I sign paper after paper in order to be released. Once my personal items are returned to me, apart from my clothes that are now considered evidence, I follow the officer’s direction toward a solid metal door. When it buzzes, I push it open, making my way down another long corridor before coming to yet another door. I place my hand on the push bar, drawing in a deep breath before opening it.
As I step over the threshold, I squint, the bright lights of the lobby like a spotlight shining directly on me, revealing my sins to everyone waiting. I scan the dozens of people in the sitting area, but it doesn’t take me long to spot Wes. The instant my gaze falls on his slumped frame, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, my heart cracks at the utter despair and exhaustion emanating from him.
Able to sense my presence, he snaps his head up, relief covering his expression when his gaze meets mine. He jumps to his feet, eating up the distance between us in a few long strides. Without a moment’s hesitation, his arms swallow me, clinging to me as if I’m his only source of sustenance. His lifeline. His anchor.
I close my eyes, basking in the warmth and familiarity of his embrace. After the past twenty-four hours, I welcome it. But for how much longer will I be able to relish in the love pouring from his heart and into me? I’m free now, but only physically. While Sophia seemed hopeful the DA may not pursue charges, not with a justifiable de
fense, I’m not so sure. No one believed me all those years ago. What makes me think anyone will now?
“I’m so sorry, Lo.” Emotion chokes Wes’ voice, his body trembling against mine.
There are no questions about what happened. No accusations about why I lied to him about my plans yesterday. Just unwavering devotion. As always.
He pulls back, but keeps his arms wrapped around me, as if physically unable to release his hold. When he brings a hand to my face, pushing one of my ringlets behind my ear, I melt into his electrifying touch.
“I should have figured it out.” Licking his lips, he shakes his head, the lines of his face scrunched up in a mixture of guilt and frustration. “Should have put the pieces together long before now. I knew Nick was a professor, that he taught English and was obsessed with Greek mythology. Never in a million years could I have expected—”
Not wanting to relive the worst moment of my life, I push out of his hold, squaring my shoulders. “It’s okay,” I say, fighting against the memories, the debilitating fear that consumed me when he had me pinned to the floor.
I thought it was history repeating itself. Instead, I managed to fight. But for what? Will it matter? Will anything be different this time? Or will he get away with it once again?
Unable to peer into Wes’ compassionate eyes, I avert my gaze, noticing Diego and Hazel standing off to the side.
“Hey, fighter,” Diego says with an encouraging smile, although there’s a touch of sadness that typically isn’t present.
“Hey, D.” I walk into his outstretched arms, allowing him to pull me into his firm embrace. He holds me longer than normal. When he finally releases me, Hazel flings herself at me, squeezing tightly.
“You’re okay, Lo,” she assures me with a quiver. “You’ll get through this.” She pulls back, her hands gripping my biceps as she levels a stare on me. “Like I told you the day you walked into my self-defense class… Broken girls turn into warriors. And you’re a fucking warrior.”
“Thanks, Haze.” I try to find some sort of encouragement in her words, ones I once believed. I’m too beaten down to possibly pick up my sword and fight right now.
“I love you, Lo. Always.” She holds my gaze another moment, then releases me. “Come on. I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to have a nice long soak in the tub and sleep for a month.”
“That may be the understatement of the year.” I turn toward the glass doors, desperate for fresh air after spending the night in a cell that reeked of body odor and urine.
Wes is quick to sidle up beside me, placing his hand on the small of my back as he steers me out of the building. It’s a small gesture, one most people wouldn’t think twice about. But that one gesture means the world to me. His silent assurance he’s with me. He’s by my side.
I lift my eyes to meet his, dark brown to his vivid blue, and give him a smile. He returns it, all the anguish, despair, and hurt he’s endured the past several hours visible. I take a moment to drink in his features, a welcome sight after everything that’s transpired. I find comfort in the familiarity of his proud nose, chiseled cheek bones, and the bit of scruff dotting his square jawline.
As we step outside, a chill envelopes me, goosebumps prickling my skin. I wrap my arms around my midsection to fight against the cold air.
“Here.” Wes shrugs out of his wool coat and drapes it around my shoulders.
I inhale the familiar scent of wood and spice, pushing away the stench of citrus and leather I thought would be permanently ingrained into my nostrils, mocking and tormenting me. Being wrapped in Wes’ warmth offers me a short reprieve, transporting me to before.
Before he walked into the New Year’s Eve Gala.
Before I tried to take matters into my own hands.
Before history nearly repeated itself.
I wish I could live in that moment. In before. It’s where I still had hope. Had love. Had a future.
Now that’s all gone.
“I didn’t think to grab one of your coats,” he explains apologetically. “I was solely focused on getting you out of that place and back home as soon as humanly possible.”
I smile, but fear I fall short. “I prefer your coat anyway.”
“I prefer you in it, too.” He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, much like my mother used to whenever she sensed I needed a reminder I wasn’t alone. “My car is right down the street.” He holds out his hand for me.
“You don’t have to drive me.” I move away from him and toward Hazel.
“Lo…,” he begins in a deep voice.
“You’ve already done more than enough,” I continue, not looking directly at him. “You must have a ton of work to catch up on. I don’t want to take up any more of your time when Hazel and Diego can drive me.”
Wes advances, wearing an expression I can’t quite explain. It’s almost like a combination of pain and helplessness. “I don’t care about that,” he declares passionately, taking my icy hands in his, warming me from the outside in. “I care about you, Londyn. Care about making sure you’re okay.”
I peer into his eyes, wishing I could find comfort in his devotion. But my world’s been turned upside down. “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again,” I admit, much to my surprise.
His strong demeanor cracks at my confession, a single tear sliding down his cheek. “Then let me help you.”
“I…” I shake my head, dozens of emotions warring within.
“Diego and I aren’t going straight home anyway,” Hazel interjects. “We have a bunch of errands to run. And since I’m sure you don’t want to go to the grocery store, hardware store, home goods store, and a whole slew of other places right now, you should just let Wes drive you.”
She pins me with a stare, silently telling me to cut the shit and let Wes do this for me. During self-defense class, she often berated me for telegraphing my moves before I attacked, making it easy for her to defend against me. I suppose I do that outside of the ring, too.
“Please, Lo,” Wes begs.
I look at him as he extends his hand toward me once more, eyes imploring me to choose him. To give him this… Whatever this is.
With a subtle nod, I link my fingers with his. He gives me a small smile as he leads me away from the building and toward his car. At one point, his hand wrapped around mine felt so natural. Now everything seems almost foreign. Like Jay — Nick — has even tainted Wes’ skin on mine.
We approach his car and he opens the passenger door, helping me into my seat as he always does. Once I’m situated, he closes my door, then rushes to get behind the wheel. As he pulls into traffic, I lean my head against the window, focusing on the sights of the city I once viewed as the place of my rebirth. Now it’s all polluted.
“Do you want me to put on some music?” Wes asks, breaking through the silence.
I look at him and shake my head before peering out the window again, inching closer to the door. It’s a stark contrast to how I normally sit in this car — leaning over the console to be as near to him as possible.
Picking up on my reluctance to talk, Wes doesn’t utter a word the remainder of the short drive back to my condo. When he parks in my driveway, I stare at the exterior of the familiar building, everything about it different than when I last saw it. How can that be? How can one man wield so much power over me?
“Come on. Let’s get you home.”
I nod, unable to tell Wes this isn’t my home. Home bears a connotation of safety and security. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel that again.
My steps are slow as I follow him into my condo, coming to a stop when Zeus runs toward me, practically jumping on me as he showers me with kisses.
“Hey, boy.” I bend down, scratching his head, finding solace in his stinky breath and rambunctious tail wagging.
“Zeus. Down, boy,” Wes orders, and his dog complies with his master’s command. “Hope you don’t mind I brought him here. After yesterday, I needed something to cheer me up, and, well… Dogs ar
e great for that.”
“I’m glad he’s here.” I shrug out of his coat and hang it up in the foyer before stepping farther into my house.
Everything looks exactly as it did when I left. Then why does it feel different? Like there’s a darkness hovering in the air and clinging to the walls.
“Would you like some tea? Or a whiskey? Maybe a little of both?”
I face him, but maintain my distance. “I just want to soak in the tub for the next week. I need to wash—” I stop short, unable to finish my statement. I don’t need to. Wes knows what I was about to say. That I need to wash him from my body.
“Understood.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down in a hard swallow, the pain on his face unmistakable. “You start drawing a bath. I’ll bring you up some tea. Then I’ll order us some sushi. Or Korean barbecue. Or pizza. Or even a combination of all three. Whatever you’re hungry for, I’ll make it happen.”
“Thank you,” I say, then turn.
“Hey, Lo?” he calls out as I’m about to head up to the second floor.
I pause, glancing over my shoulder, our gazes locking. “Yes?”
With slow steps, he walks toward me. I fully face him, my breaths coming quicker, as always seems to be the case whenever he’s near. Then he wraps his arms around me. This embrace is markedly different from the way he hugged me in the jailhouse lobby. That one was more relieved, laced with desperation. This one is more comforting and affectionate.
He places a soft kiss on my forehead. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he murmurs.
I exhale, melting into him, breathing in his scent. How can one man be so perfect? How can one man read my mind and know exactly what I need when I don’t even know myself?
This was all I wanted from my father and Sawyer when I told them the truth, yet I never got it. But Wes remembers. It’s such a small thing, but it speaks volumes as to his character. That despite knowing who Nick is, he’s still here. He’s still with me. Just like he promised.