Page 146 of Terms of Exposure

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She flinched.

Her breathing was too fast—every inhale snagging, every exhale trembling.

"Candace," I tried again, voice low and steady. "You're safe."

Her head shook violently. "No. He—he'll come back. He always—he always comes back."

I reached for her again, but let my hand fall. "Not tonight," I tried instead. "Everything will be—"

"You don't know that." Her voice splintered. "If he thinks I called the cops—"

She went still, the air evaporating from the room.

"He'll make me pay."

Behind me, Damien sucked in a breath. I glanced over my shoulder.

Bloody knuckles. Pale face. Back flat against the wall.

A problem for another time.

I turned back to Candace. "Can I hold you?"

A nod this time, small but certain.

I reached around her, circling my arms around her small frame.

"It's okay," I murmured. "Just breathe with me. Slow.Right here."

She tried. God, she tried. Her chest hitched, throat working around another sob.

"I'm so stupid. I should have known he'd show up. I should have—"

"Shh," I shushed her. "You don't carry his choices. You don't get punished for his behavior."

Candace squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders shaking. "Someone has to."

"Not you," I managed, my eyes burning.

I looked over my shoulder. Damien had slid down the wall to the floor. Eyes fixed at the back of his hands.

Candace's voice cracked. "I can't talk to the police, Emma. I can't. He'll blame me."

Her forehead pressed into my collarbone. Her breath was hot and uneven through my shirt.

"I'm right here," I whispered.

Behind me, Damien exhaled—quiet, strained.

Candace nodded against me. Exhausted.

I held her. Minutes, maybe longer. Time measured in shaky breaths and the slow unclenching of her fists against my shirt.

Eventually the trembling stopped.

A yawn cracked her jaw.

"I'm exhausted."

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