I was too creeped out by Harris to pursue it, in fact, I actively avoided dealing with him, but with every day that passed, Dante became increasingly disturbed, and I became progressively more paranoid.
I dropped out of drama exactly three days after the attack. Gram's house was just too inviting for me. And of course, there was Gram herself, always there to greet me when I arrived. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a home I was welcomed in, and I spent as much time there as I possibly could. I'd have dropped out of school without a qualm if I hadn't known it would've disappointed her.
Dante didn't like it. He threatened more than once to quit football in response to my change in schedule, but perversely I was the one that talked him out of it. We were co-dependent enough without inventing new reasons not to leave each other's sight.
A few weeks later, I was willing to rethink my position on the matter. He was fighting again, I could tell. More than he ever had before, in fact, coming home with more bruises than he could hide or football practice could account for.
I didn't have to ask. The guys must have been talking about me again, and I knew just the types of things they'd be saying. When girls with my reputation were attacked, it was a no-brainer, to my mind at least, that I'd be blamed for whatever the rumor mill was saying had happened. It'd likely been blown out of proportion, and I figured I was either being called a liar or a slut.
I didn't hear any of the rumors directly myself, but every new bruise on Dante's body told me the story as clear as though I were reading it on paper.
Just when I thought I couldn't love him more.
Detective Harris came to the house twice to talk to me, but he had no new information about the case, and as soon as he realized that Gram was as good as glued to my side, he quickly found a reason to leave.
"I do not like that man," Gram said, after the second visit. She was studying my face. "Darling, do me a favor, always insist that I be there when he needs to speak to you. Always."
I agreed happily, but Harris never came back to her house after that. Instead, he started pulling me out of my classes at school when he wanted to have a word. So much so, rumors started to go around that I was having an affair with 'the hot cop,' as he'd been fondly nicknamed by the girls at school.
It infuriated me, especially so since he never seemed to be doing anything to find the man that had attacked me. Instead, he wanted to have short, intense, meaningless conversations with me, always pretending it was 'official business.'
The third time he pulled me out of class, I was outright hostile toward him. "Any updates on finding the man that attacked me, or are you just here to ask about my health again?"
We were standing near my locker—he'd asked me to show him where it was—and he was looking around, barely paying me any mind at all.
I clenched my jaw. "And if you want to talk to me, I'm going to need to call Vivian Durant. She's insisted that I not be alone with you."
That got his attention, his head snapping toward me, eyes narrowing on my face. "What did you tell her? You remember what I said, don't you? Everything about this case is confidential. If you share any information, with anyone, you could get yourself into big trouble, and we will never catch this guy."
I bit my lip, it wanted so badly to tremble. What did this man want from me? I honestly didn't know. It seemed to me he enjoyed terrifying me, but I also knew I had some serious baggage where law enforcement was concerned. "W-w-why did you pull me out of class?"
"I told you, I want to see your locker. Go ahead and open it up for me."
I did, stepping back so he could look inside. "What are you looking for?" I asked him.
"How are you feeling?" he countered.
"Fine," I bit out.
"Breasts still tender? I see you can wear a bra again."
My shaking hands were in fists. "They're fine. What are you looking for?"
He was standing right in front of my open locker, not touching anything, just looking. "Clues. I'm a detective, you know."
"You sure don't act like one," just sort of slipped out.
I was immediately sorry. He didn't touch me, didn't lay one finger on me, but I felt physically intimidated nonetheless as he stepped into my personal space.
"Just because I'm police," he said very, very quietly, right into my face. "Doesn't mean I'm not a man. Doesn't mean I can't be riled, so I would show a little more respect, if I were you, Scarlett. Not only am I the only one who is willing to help you, no one else on the force would lift a finger if something were to happen to you. Do you understand? You've burned every bridge but this one."
I tried to take a step back, and that's when it happened.
Harris grabbed my arms to stop me, to keep me from moving away, and I swear I felt his presence before I saw or heard him, like electricity in the air. Rage on the wind.
"Get your fucking hands off her!"
My eyes shut tight. In relief. And horror. Because I was saved, and Dante was about to get himself arrested.