Be with Me (Wait for You, #2)

He grinned. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have dinner.”


“True,” I laughed, but the sound died off as he pulled up to the sidewalk. I was reluctant to leave him. Today . . . today had been a great day. Jeep idling, he reached for the door handle. “You don’t have to walk me up.”

“But—”

I silenced him with a kiss. If he came up, I wouldn’t want him to leave, and I needed to talk to Deb. “You don’t have to do it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He took his hand off the door. “Text me before you go to bed.”

My lips split into a wide grin. “Okay.”

Before I could pull away, he wrapped his hand around the nape of my neck and kissed me. At once, my mouth opened to his. He tasted me in a way that made it even harder to leave. “Night, Tess.”

I closed my eyes as I pulled back. “Night.”

Jase waited until I was inside before pulling away and I hopped along on my crutches, taking the elevator. Like I suspected, Deb was in the dorm.

She was sitting on the bed, cross-legged, hair pulled back and wearing an oversized hoodie. When she looked up, she smacked her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God.”

I stilled in the door, confused. “What?”

“Crutches!” She unfurled her legs but didn’t make it far. “I knew you would be on crutches, but I just . . . I don’t know.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

Placing the crutches against the wall, I carefully walked to my bed and sat down. I didn’t know how to start this conversation, but I knew I was going to tell her about my past. It just wasn’t easy to say, by the way, I dated a fucking loser who beat me. “Debbie—”

“I broke up with Erik.”

I blinked, thinking I hadn’t heard her right. And then hope sprang within me. “What?”

She got up and sat beside me. “I broke up with Erik earlier today.”

“That’s . . .” What did I say? Great? Fantastic? That seemed inappropriate because I think Deb really cared about him.

“It needed to be done. It had to be because . . .” She ducked her chin, hiding her gaze. “Because you were right on Sunday. Erik . . . he can be a really good guy, but . . .”

“But he hits you,” I said quietly, and for some damn reason, my chest began to squeeze.

She nodded slowly. “He didn’t hit me often. You know, it wasn’t all the time. Sometimes he would just grab me or yell at me. He always—always—seemed to regret it afterward. Or at least his apologies seemed believable, and I always forgave him.” She paused, drawing in a deep breath. “No one has ever said anything. Not until you did. I think it was partly because he’s been—uh, losing his cool a lot more lately, but everyone just looked away.”

“It’s hard to say something,” I said, tucking my left leg against my chest. “I didn’t want to make you mad.” Or embarrass her because that was the main emotion I had felt when my family discovered what I’d been hiding.

“I wasn’t mad. I was ashamed,” she said, confirming my thoughts. “Because why would I stay with him when it’s so obvious he doesn’t treat me right?”

“Because sometimes he treats you like a queen?” I fiddled with the frayed hem of my jeans. “And you hang on to those moments because you know he’s capable of being a good guy.”

I could feel her eyes on me. “You’ve been . . . ?”

Without saying anything, I nodded.

She let out a low breath. “And you broke up with him?”

“Not really.” I barked out a short laugh. “My mom and Cam saw the bruises and I finally told them the truth. I wanted to leave him before then, but I was scared and . . .”

“And you loved him?” she asked in a quiet voice that was laced with pain.

Tugging the little white strings on my jeans, I swallowed hard. “He was my first—first of everything. I thought I was in love with him. Looking back now, I know it was more about being afraid of being—”

“Alone?” she said, and I nodded. “We’re pretty stupid, huh? Being afraid of being single outweighs the fear of being hit.”

“You’re not stupid anymore,” I pointed out. “You broke up with him.”

“I did.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked tightly.

The squeezing pressure moved up my throat. I was happy for her—thrilled to be exact, but I knew this had to be hard for her. The first night things were over between Jeremy and me had been the hardest. Because like with Erik, Jeremy had this almost magical ability of making me forget the bad moments. He excelled at that, so much so that it was also one of the reasons why I hadn’t left him. Now that I was older, I realized that was a hallmark of an abuser. They could be as charming as sin when required, and that made them as dangerous as a rattlesnake.

“How did Erik take it?” I asked.

A wobbly smile appeared. “Not very good.”