Page 91 of Down Shift (Driven 8)
Seconds tick by. My knuckles throb. My body vibrates from the adrenaline. My thoughts clear. Getty.
Desperate to see her. To feel her. To make sure she’s okay. I turn around. And there she stands.
Time slows down. Seconds stretch out.
Hair a mess. In her bra and shorts. One shoe on. Her brown eyes are wide. Her lips parted. They quiver. But it’s the look she gives me that steals every last part of me.
“Oh, Getty.” It’s all I can say, all I can think, as I cross the room.
“I’m okay,” she says. And just as I reach her, she collapses in my arms, against me. Into me. So I do the only thing I can. Hold her. Breathe her in. Feel her heart pounding against mine. The warmth of her breath under my neck.
And I repeat her name again. Over and over. To tell her I’m here. That it’s over. That she’s okay.
“I’m okay,” she repeats, but I know differently. Can feel her body trembling. Can hear the hitch of her breath. How her fingers dig into my biceps.
“Let me look at you,” I murmur against the crown of her head as I breathe in the scent of her shampoo one more time before I take her shoulders and hold her away from me. “Getty. I— Did he hurt you?” My gaze roams over every single part of her. Checking. Looking. Making sure. “I forgot my phone. I didn’t know—I would have—”
“No. No,” she repeats again, shaking her head, trying to stop me from blaming myself, but good fucking luck with that. “I’m okay. It wasn’t that bad—”
“Wasn’t that bad?” Is she fucking serious? The fury returns again. The need to make him pay returns with a vengeance. But something flickers in her eyes.
And suddenly I’m struck with a memory of my mom with that same look. The same response.
It’s hard to swallow after that. Hard to think. Hard to breathe as my worlds collide.
My hands are on her cheeks, eyes trained to hers. There are no tears. There is no show of emotion other than her fingers gripping my arms tight, telling me to not let go yet. I can’t help myself, though. I need to touch her, feel that she’s safe, to know she’s really okay. I brush my thumbs over her cheeks.
“You could have told me, Getty.” I have to say it. Have to let her know I understand. I already knew. And it’s okay.
“About what?” The aversion of her eyes. Dodging the question. The shifting of her feet.
“I would have understood. About him, about the abuse.” I realize I’m walking a thin line in this moment. One she can no longer deny after what just happened. One I’ve suspected all along.
“He’s never hit me, Zander.” Her words are rushed. Panicked. Denying the obvious.
But I also see the shame. The fear I’ll see her differently after knowing the truth. And it kills me. Fucking wrecks me that she’d think I’d put the blame on her.
Gently, proceeding cautiously, I use my hands to direct her gaze back to mine. To make sure she sees my eyes when I tell her what she needs to hear. What she needs to know. What she needs to believe.
“You don’t have to hit to leave bruises, Getty.”
* * *
Stubborn fucking woman.
She ignores me like she’s done since she got here, despite my constant glares from the far end of the bar. Just like she did when the cops left with Ethan in cuffs and I told her I’d already called Liam and she wasn’t going in to work. Our conversation replays in my head.
“I’m going,” she stated, voice defiant, while pulling one knee-high sock up.
“No, Getty. I explained to Liam that something came up. He understood.” My frustration grew as she picked up her second sock. “What happened was serious. You need time.”
And then she leveled me with a look. The same one she’d been giving me since we called the cops. The I’m fine. The it’s not a big deal. I know that look hides all the emotion she’s trying not to show. But it wasn’t until she finally spoke up that her reaction knocked me flat on my ass.
“No. I don’t need time. I need to get to work. I don’t want to sit here and think about it right now. I want to be busy.”
“But—”
“No, Zander. Don’t you see? This was my life. For years this was all I knew how to do. How to cope. Tears weren’t allowed. Something like this would happen and then I’d have to paint on a pretty mask, go to some event, and pretend I was okay.” Her breathing sounded shaky. I had to fight every instinct I had not to pull her against me because that statement made me see the brutal truth of how she’d lived for so long. Not lived. Survived. “I’m putting on my mask, Zander. Let me do the only thing I know how to do so I don’t fall apart. If I fall apart, he wins.”
