The moment his hand slides between my legs, I bring my knee to his groin. But I didn’t give Kenny enough credit. Her presses closer, stealing my leverage at the last minute. His sweaty hand grabs at my inner thigh and I try again, using the very little room I have to draw up hard with my knee.

At first I think I hit him with more power than I have because he flies off me and slams against the opposite wall.

Then I see Asher, fists clenched and eyes blazing as he bears down on Kenny.

“What the fuck, man?” Kenny whimpers. “Get your own bitch.”

“She told you to back off,” Asher growls.

“And who are you? Pussy patrol?”

The sick crunch of knuckles connecting with jawbone echoes in the small corridor.

People are gathering at the end of the hall, attracted by the shouts and the familiar sounds of a bar scuffle.

Kenny sneers, his lip bloody. “You can have the cunt,” he grumbles. “She was asking for it, but a dick’s a dick to her. Mine? Yours? What’s it matter?”

Asher’s nostrils flare. As I step forward to stop him, he sweeps Kenny’s legs out from under him, taking him down.

“Asher,” I cry, but he doesn’t hear me.

Asher’s on the floor, leaning over Kenny when Will appears in the throng and pulls him off.

Asher’s eyes blaze as he rounds on Will.

“Let it go, man,” Will says. “He’s not worth it.”

Kenny pushes himself up on his elbows and moans. His lip is bleeding and his right eye is already swelling. His buddy Craig helps him off the floor, glaring at me the whole time. “Why are you getting messed up with Lucy anyway?”

Asher jumps forward at those words, but not before Will can wrap an arm around his waist and hold him back.

I have become that helpless woman who can do nothing but stare as the world moves around her, and before I know it, the police are there, and I want to cry because I recognize both of the uniformed officers who come into Brady’s. They both went to my high school. They’re both life-long “bros” with Kenny, and they don’t ask a single question before they take Asher to the back of a patrol car.

“Wait!” I call, my voice weak. “He was protecting me!”

“We’re just taking him in for questioning,” one officer promises, but I f**king know this town and I know how the good ole boy system works. Asher won’t get to say his piece. They’ll hold him as long as they can and record whatever story makes Kenny look the best.

“I was on my way to take a piss,” Kenny’s saying, “and she kinda pushes me against the wall and presses her hand to my crotch.”

My jaw drops. The officer is jotting down notes as if Kenny’s story is more than a load of bullshit, and I can’t find my tongue.

“I should have pushed her off. I should have, but I’ve been drinking and I guess I let my dick think for me. Next thing I know her boyfriend’s throwing punches right and left, throwing me against the wall and slamming my head against the floor.” He wipes the blood from his nose with the back of his hand and a waitress hurries over with a napkin. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend and didn’t think to worry about it. I wasn’t thinking at all, honestly.”

“You weren’t thinking because you were too busy trying to force your hand up my skirt to listen to me say no, let alone think.”

“Everyone knows Asher Logan’s a hot head,” Kenny’s buddy says, crossing his arms. “Only reason he’s even in this town is so he can stay out of trouble while he serves his probation.”

“No. He was protecting me. Asher didn’t do anything wrong.” My voice trills with the panic that’s weighing heavier and heavier on me. My lungs are shrinking and I can’t get the air I need.

“Who are the police gonna believe?” Craig mutters in my ear. “Their life-long friend or the slut with a track record for f**king married men?”

I can’t breathe. There’s no air back here. “Get away from me,” I scream, pushing at Craig because I know what happens next, I know what this means for Asher.

“Maggie!” Hanna and Lizzy appear at the edge of the throng and push their way back to me.

“We’ll need to talk to her,” an officer says without looking up from his notes. Kenny’s still waxing redneck poetic about my hallway seduction. I have no doubt his wife will know about this before the night’s out. Just another person who hates me in this town and for once I don’t give a shit what they think. But Asher…

“Maggie,” Hanna is saying, “breathe, sweetie.”

“She needs air,” Lizzy announces, clearing a path through the crowd. For the officers, she tosses back, “We’ll be outside when you’re ready to talk to us.”

“What the hell happened?” Lizzy asks as we push through the front doors.

“Hush,” Hanna barks. “Can’t you see she’s in shock?” She settles me onto a concrete bench in front of the bar and takes my face in both her hands. “Breathe.”

“I’m fine,” I object. But I’m not fine. I haven’t been fine since I was a little girl, since before my body turned on me and ruined my life. I focus on my breathing, expanding my belly until it hurts and exhaling slowly. “I need my purse.”

Lizzy hands it over, and I dig out my anxiety medication and pop one in my mouth.

“What’s that?” Hanna asks softly, taking the bottle from me. “Jesus, how long have you needed this?”

I blink at her. How long have I needed it or how long have I been taking it?

“I can’t believe what they’re trying to say about you,” Hanna says. “As if that was your fault?”

They can’t hurt me. They don’t matter. I am not the sum of their accusations.

The mantras from my therapist do nothing to soothe my panic when this isn’t about me. It’s about the man who probably just lost everything protecting me.

“Oh.” Hanna pops up and shoves the bottle in her pocket. “Hi, Will.”

Will stands a couple of yards from me, his broad shoulders silhouetted by the street lamp and his face masked in shadow.

“Are you okay?” he asks me softly, running a hand through his hair.

I nod. “Kenny didn’t hurt me. He didn’t get a chance.”

“They’ll probably keep Asher overnight. There’ll be an arraignment in the morning and the judge will set bail. Kenny doesn’t need medical attention, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. A fine, maybe? It’s going to be okay, Maggie.”

I swallow hard. My. Fault. “He’s on probation. He can’t have any charges brought against him or he’ll lose his daughter. He’ll have to serve that old sentence for assault.” I’m shaking. “He’ll go to prison.”

“Shit,” Will mutters.

“But who gets to decide?” Hanna pipes in. “Who listens to everyone’s side and decides if they should even press charges?”

“If it’s the goddamned cops in this town, Asher is screwed,” Lizzy says.

I wince and Hanna says, “Liz!”

“The police don’t make that call,” Will says.

We all look at him, waiting, until I realize what he’s not saying.

“The prosecutor,” I whisper.

“Oh, no,” Hanna cries.

“He’s an outsider, Mags,” Will says, jaw hard. “This doesn’t look good.”

Lizzy props her hands on her hips. “I’m so damn sick of this backwards town.”

I don’t reply because out of the corner of my eye, I see the flashing lights of the patrol car edging around the corner. I stand and let my fingers slide against the glass of the back door as it passes as a crawl.

Asher’s head is inclined against the back of the seat, and he winks at me and flashes me a sad smile.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, alerting me to a text. From Asher. They must not have taken away Asher’s phone yet.

I love you. No regrets.

I lift my eyes to his as the car pulls onto Main Street, and I watch as the lights fade into the darkness.

“He was just protecting me.” But if the prosecutor gets to decide whether to press charges, protecting me may be the worst thing he could have done.

I haven’t talked to her since I was fifteen and she was divorcing her husband for sleeping with me.

***

“Do you want me to go with you?”

I grab a mug and fill it with coffee, shaking my head at Krystal. “I want to go alone.” It’s barely seven-thirty in the morning, but I’m going to be at the courthouse when the doors open. When I went to the station to give my statement last night, they confirmed what Will had guessed. Asher would be held overnight and bail would be set at the arraignment in the morning.

My stomach churns with anxiety over the price Asher might have to pay for doing the right thing.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, you know,” Krystal says softly.

Purse halfway to my shoulder, I pause and turn to my sister. I set down my purse, settle my mug and my keys next to it and wrap my arms around her. “I know that now.”

She squeezes me hard. “Okay.”

I pull into the lot behind the courthouse and cut the ignition by 7:43.

Last night was miserable, giving my statement to those men, knowing they didn’t believe me. Knowing they wouldn’t care even if they had believed. But I survived it.

I take a last swig of coffee and step out of my car.

“Maggie?”

I turn at the sound of Ann Quimby’s voice. “Ms. Quimby.”

She’s dressed in a smart blue skirt suit and holding a briefcase and looks every bit like a prosecutor should. She narrows her eyes at me. “What are you doing here?”

“I…Asher Logan…last night…” I stutter. I always liked Anna and seeing her again would be awkward under any circumstances, but is especially so under these.

She shakes her head. “Mr. Logan was released this morning.”

“Released?”

“I’m not pressing charges. Between your story and Kenny’s track record, I have enough reason to believe Mr. Logan used justifiable force to protect you.”

My jaw goes slack. “But…Kenny said…” Oh, what I would give for the ability to construct a complete sentence. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“You can file a protective order against Kenny,” she informs me. “I know Brady doesn’t want him in his bar anymore, so you won’t have to worry about seeing him there.”

I nod. “I will. Thank you.”

She turns toward the courthouse.

“Ms. Quimby?” I call.

She stops and turns back to me.

“You don’t know how much this means.”

She nods. “I’m not in the business of blaming the victim, Miss Thompson.” She cuts her eyes away from me and sets her jaw. “I never have been.”

We both know she’s not just talking about Asher’s case.

Chapter Twenty-One

Asher

When Maggie pulls into my driveway, I run outside and pull her against me. She wraps her arms around my neck and cries.

“It’s okay, baby,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “I’ve got you.”

“I thought they were going to send you to prison,” she whispers. “You would have missed a whole year of Zoe’s life, and it would have been my fault.”

“No.” I pull back and hold her face in my hands. “Not your fault. You understand? You didn’t ask for Kenny to do that to you.”

“But Asher, they could have—”

“I won’t let you blame yourself for what some as**ole did, Maggie.” I kiss her. Hard. When I saw Kenny pushing himself against her last night, I could have killed him. The punches I threw were nothing compared to what I wanted to do.

“I love you,” I whisper in her hair.

“I love you too,” she whispers back, clinging to me.

***

Maggie

“Asher?” I call as I step into the house.

We decided to meet here before heading over to the gallery opening, but I decided to come early. If I take my shower and get ready here, that gives Asher and me time alone before we have to leave.

I call for him again as I walk toward the stairs. The house is quiet.

Neither of us slept much last night. Maybe he decided to take a nap.

A smile curves my lips at the thought of Asher laid out across his bed, his broad, bare back exposed, his expression soft in sleep. The thought sends a flutter through my belly, and I toe off my shoes before heading up the stairs. I’m already unbuttoning my jeans, already planning on stripping bare and sliding into bed with him. I’ll wrap my arms around him and let the sound of his breathing lull me to sleep.

But when I step into his bedroom, I don’t see the darkened space I expect. Instead, I see candlelight and hear the softly thumping beat of the Infinite Gray album.

Licking my lips, I pull my shirt over my head and follow the candlelit path around the corner into the master suite.

I expect to see Asher waiting for me. I expect to see him reading in the chair by the window or sitting in the bed, that wicked smile on his lips. I expect he’ll take over for my hands that are currently unbuttoning my pants.

But I don’t see Asher at all.

I see a woman on his bed. A long-legged, blond, surgically enhanced, na**d woman.

My first thought is that I’m in the wrong place. That maybe I somehow walked through the door, up the grand staircase and into the bedroom of the wrong house.