Jules.
We were in his bed.
“What happened?” he asked groggily.
“What do you remember?” I asked, my voice like gravel.
Instead of answering, he began to hyperventilate.
“Shit.” I rolled him onto his back and leaned over him. “Look at me, Jules. You’re safe.”
His wide eyes were shining with fear and confusion, his lips parted, and his cheeks flushed red as he stared up at me.
“You’re safe, Jules,” I repeated softly.
“I… don’t remember everything.”
“That’s okay.”
“I don’t remember coming home. Or why we’re in my bed together.” He swallowed hard.
“You had a nightmare.”
“Oh.” He looked away. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I said stiffly.
If anyone should apologize, it was me.
I’d been too late to stop Gavin from hurting Jules. If I’d been any later…
“Do you remember what happened in the bathroom?” I asked.
Tears filled his eyes, and he blinked several times in rapid succession.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks for stopping him.”
I didn’t bother answering and gently traced the backs of my fingers over his warm cheek. “Tell me the truth, Jules. Are you okay?”
He shook his head, tears spilling over his cheeks.
I folded him into my arms and rolled us so I was on my back, and he was half on top of me.
He buried his face in my neck, sobs racking his smaller body.
I let him cry, let him get it out. I didn’t tell him it would be okay or that I was there for him. He didn’t need empty placations. He needed to feel his pain so he could start processing it.
“I don’t understand what I did,” he said into my neck once his tears had subsided.
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I led him on last year.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jules. Breaking up with someone isn’t leading them on. You didnothingto deserve this or to make it happen, okay? This is him. He’s theonlyone to blame.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to the party.”
“Why did you?”