“Judge—”
“Jesus Christ. I was here. I asked him.”
“Judge, you’re hurting me.”
I look down at where I still hold her and see how I’m squeezing. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I loosen my grip but don’t let go. “Come home with me. Please. I can protect you.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “This is my home, Judge.” Are her words forced, or am I imagining it?
“No, it’s not. Let me protect you.”
“My brother—”
“Please, Mercedes. Let me take you home.”
“You need to go. I want you to go.”
I stare at her, not wanting to hear her. She pries my fingers from her arm and turns her back to me to call for the dogs.
“I will keep Pestilence. But you need to respect my decision and go. Now.”
“Don’t shut me out.”
She drops her head. “Please, Judge.”
“At least—”
She spins and slaps her hands against my chest. “Just go. Fucking go! Just this once, put yourself second and do what I ask for a fucking change!”
Tears wet the skin around her eyes, and I see the effort this is costing her. See how my being here is hurting her. I watch her for a long minute, letting the look in her eyes burn itself into my brain, the pain inside them like a brand on my skin.
I nod. Because I can’t speak. And when the puppy comes strolling up the stairs, I scoop her up and walk through the house and out the front door.