Page 48 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars
“Oh? How’s he doing?”
“He’s okay.” I turn the bone over in my fingers. “I told him you were here, and you’d let it slip that he sent you away.”
He stops cleaning, leans on the table, and looks at me. “Did he deny it?”
“No. He tried to defend his actions, but I told him how upset I was, and he went quiet. I asked him how he could do that to you, after everything you’d been through. I was quite angry with him.” I begin to brush the bone with the toothbrush.
Linc doesn’t say anything. After a moment, I look up. He’s watching me, his eyes filled with emotion, although I’m not sure what—surprise? Affection? Admiration?
“Thank you,” he says softly. “For being on my side.”
“I was always on your side, Linc.”
“Yeah, Joel told me.”
My eyebrows rise. “Did he?”
“Last night. We went for a drink after we left your place. Joel said that when I left, the other kids were angry that I didn’t say goodbye, but you always defended me, and that you didn’t blame me for going.”
I flick some earth away with the bristles of the brush. “There were times I was angry at you because I missed you.”
He falls quiet again. He watches me work for about a minute, as I clean the bone, measure it, and start sketching it in my notebook.
Eventually, he says, “They told me.”
I stop halfway through drawing a line and look up at him. His expression is hard to fathom.
“What did they tell you?” I ask carefully.
“About what happened to you when you were eighteen.” He frowns. “Lora, I’m so incredibly sorry.”
I stiffen and look down. “They had no right to tell you that.”
“It’s not their fault. I pushed them. I knew something had happened. And Fraser told me not to let on that I know, but I couldn’t not tell you. It’s so fucking shit.”
That makes me give a short laugh. “Yes, it is fucking shit.”
He gives a small smile. “It still sounds odd when you swear.”
I give a long sigh. He leans an elbow on the table and rests his head on a hand as he studies me.
“Why didn’t you want me to know?” he asks.
“It’s private. People treat you differently when they know. Like you’re a victim. Someone to be pitied. And I’m not.”
“I know,” he says. “Anyone less like a victim I can’t imagine. I was thinking this morning how brilliant you are. So accomplished and confident. It hasn’t changed how I look at you. You’re still beautiful to me.”
Feeling my face warm, I move a pile of tiny bones to form a square, then add a triangle on top to make the shape of a house. “It has affected me, though. I have these weird behaviors. I have to double check locks, and make sure I know where the exits are when I’m in a strange place. I can’t go to the bathroom in places I don’t know. I get claustrophobic and panicky in small rooms where there’s only one door. And as for men…” I trail off, and then clear my throat.
There’s another long pause.
“Fraser said you told them you don’t remember what happened during the attack,” he says. “Do you remember?”
I make a garden path with the bones. Then I look up at him. “Every second.”
We study each other for a moment. His expression is carefully blank.
“Have you dated since?” he asks.
