As if he needed proof, his gaze roamed over me, taking in my outfit. The hand he’d slapped me with dropped, patting down my sides, then went for my skirt.
No fucking way.
“Get off of me!” I shoved at his shoulders with all the force I could muster, despite his hold on me.
He brought me forward only to shove me hard against the storage container, my head snapping back again. My skull rattled, tiny black dots blooming across the corners of my vision. He continued moving his hand down, fisting his fingers in my skirt, lifting it.
I did all I could not to cry. He was checking me for money.
That’s what I told myself.
That was all he was doing.
My head lolled back against the metal as I closed my eyes, trying to avoid thinking about the pain in my head and arm. I couldn’t take it anymore. If I quit the fight, I wouldn’t get it as bad.
That was how it worked all those years I suffered his wrath.
But before my dress could lift any higher than my thigh, his hand released me with a tug, and my eyes shot open at the sound of a scuffle.
I blinked away the haze to see Callan swinging a fist into Jason’s cheek right before he fell to the ground. I spun my head toward a shout at the end of the alley to find Lennon shoving the other man up against the storage container, his forearm pressed firm to the man’s throat.
Callan went down with Jason in front of me, sending punch after punch into his jaw. Jason tried to fight back, but Callan was too fast. People were crowding the end of the alley, gasps and shouts being thrown about as Lennon held the man firm. He was shouting something at him, but Lennon wasn’t giving in to the bait as he kept an eye on both him and Callan.
Three officers shuffled down the passageway, a fourth grabbing the stranger from Lennon so he could release his hold. One of the officers heading our way shouted at Callan to stop. After another punch that sent Jason’s head snapping to the side, Callan wiped his mouth on his arm and stood, his eyes instantly finding me.
I hadn’t realized I was breathing so heavily as the panic set in further.
“Baby,” Callan murmured, stepping over Jason’s leg to wrap his arms around me. He led us out of the alley, the crowd parting for us to get through. Once in the opening, he moved his hands to my cheeks, looking over every inch of me. “Are you hurt?”
My eyes felt heavy, lagging to keep up with his movements. “My head.”
His gaze snapped to mine, surveying my face. His eyes landed on my cheek, which I guessed was red from where Jason had slapped me.
My hand came up to touch the back of my head and I winced once my fingers found the little knot.
He moved my hand away gently. “Did he hit your head?”
“Against the storage unit.” I didn’t mention that it was twice.
His eyes narrowed as he studied my face, most likely looking for some sort of sign that I had a concussion.
“Is she okay?” an officer asked behind me.
I turned, quickly wishing I hadn’t moved so fast as my head swam. Callan steadied me as I swayed on my feet. Between the adrenaline and the pain, I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. There was too much going on. Too many noises, lights, people.
“Possibly concussed,” Callan told him. “Do you have an EMT on site?”
The officer nodded. “I’ll bring you to them.”
Behind the officer, the other two emerged with Jason in cuffs, his face bruised and bloody. I averted my eyes, focusing on the officer as he began walking toward the end of the row littered with food trucks.
I kept my gaze downcast as people watched us pass. They weren’t being nosy, they were just concerned about what had happened, but I still couldn’t bear to look. Having issues arise publicly in Portland was bearable, but in a small community like this, it felt wrong, like I was the one disrupting their lives. Everyone was so peaceful, and I brought Jason here, tainting the beauty of it all.
With Callan’s hand in mine, his thumb brushed my skin in a soothing stroke. All I wanted was to go home and wish tonight never happened.
“You’re safe now,” he whispered to me, inching closer as we walked.
I nodded once, not looking up from the ground with the fear that the panic would set in again if I took in the busyness of the fair.
I felt safe next to Callan, knowing he had found me, and I had him thinking of me enough to go looking.
If he hadn’t, I didn’t know what Jason would’ve done. How far he would have gone.
The officer brought us over to an ambulance that was parked a few dozen feet from the fair, and I sat on the back step, letting the EMT check me over. He confirmed it was a mild concussion, but that I should be fine. He also looked over my cheek for swelling, and made sure my hand or arm wasn’t broken.
In just a few minutes, Jason had inflicted so much pain, and after a lifetime of it, I was so tired.
Callan thanked the EMT as I stood. He brought me a couple feet away, then lifted my chin gently so I’d look at him.
“None of this was your fault, okay?”
I nodded once.
“Baby, talk to me.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but a rock of emotion instantly lodged itself in my throat, and the tears fell. Callan gathered me in his arms, holding me tight to his chest while remaining wary of the parts of me that hurt.
But it wasn’t just the physical that pained me.
