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Every time my brain starts circling back to Grant putting his hands on her, I have to remind myself that Goldie’s okay and I’m almost there.

I don’t even let myself consider what could be worse than what she’s already told me because I’ll lose my shit.

Her SUV’s sitting in the driveway when we pull up. Colston parks my truck behind it, shuts off the engine, and hands me the keys.

“Fuck sitting in the truck in this heat,” he says as he unbuckles. “I’ll make sure she’s okay, then I’ll hang out back while you guys talk.”

I nod and shove my door open.

The humid air hits me the second I climb out, but I’m already heading up the walkway by the time Colston shuts his door behind me.

My house key’s between my fingers when I reach the porch, and I unlock the door and step inside on autopilot.

The living room is cool after the heat outside, but I barely register it. Goldie’s curled into one end of the couch with her bare feet tucked beneath her skirt, her sunglasses and purse dumped on the coffee table. Ellie’s leaning against the kitchen island with another glass in her hand, but my attention goes straight to Goldie.

Her eyes are swollen and red.

Fuck. It kills me when she cries.

She looks up at me, and whatever was holding her together before I walked through the door shatters. She sets her water on the table and leans forward, reaching for me before I even reach the couch.

I drop into a crouch in front of her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Her voice wobbles, and then her arms are around my shoulders and her face is tucked into the space between my shoulder and neck.

I wrap both arms around her and hold her as tight as I can as she trembles.

She takes a shaky breath against my skin, then another. I just hold her while her fingers knot into the back of my shirt and wait for her breathing to settle.

A few feet behind me, Colston and Ellie stay quiet.

When Goldie finally loosens her grip, I lean back enough to see her face. I wipe the dampness from beneath one of her eyes with my thumb.

“Show me where he touched you.”

Her mouth pulls to one side. “It’s nothing.”

“Goldie.”

“I told you I’m okay.”

“I heard you.” I keep my eyes on hers. “Show me anyway.”

She sighs like I’m being a pain in the ass, which is enough like normal Goldie that I can breathe a little easier. Then she lifts her left arm.

Four red marks sit above her elbow, marking where that motherfucker’s fingers dug into her skin. For a second, all I can think about is breaking every finger that put them there, but I force my attention back to her arm. The skin isn’t broken, and the marks don’t look deep enough to bruise much. I take her wrist and turn her arm enough to check the other side.

“Did he touch you anywhere else?”

“No. Just my arm.”

“I slapped his hand off before he could do anything else,” Ellie says from the kitchen.

I glance over at her and give her a nod. “Good. Thank you.”

Goldie looks past me toward the front door. “Colston?”

I glance back.