Page 28 of Crash

She spun on her heel with a muttered, “Two minutes,” that sounded more like a threat than a concession.

I crouched before Tessa, forcing gentleness into my voice, even as acid burned through my veins. “What party, Cupcake?”

Tears welled in her glassy eyes, and something primitive in my chest howled at her pain.

“I shouldn’t have had three beers at a frat house,” she whispered. “I knew better.”

My muscles coiled tight, bracing for impact.

“He said he wanted to show me his book collection. I knew better than that too.”

Every cell in my body went cold.

“Who?” I fought to keep my voice steady. “Who wanted to show you his book collection?”

“It’s not like I just met him,” she said. “I had class with him. We’d talked before. I thought … I thought I could trust him.”

“Tessa.” I brushed hair from her face, touch featherlight. “Tell me what happened.”

Her lower lip trembled. “He …” She looked down. “He pushed me down. I told him no, but he was so strong …” She sniffled, unable to go any further.

I tilted her chin up with my finger, my other hand fisting at my side. “You don’t have to tell me more. But I need his name.”

“You don’t care what he did?”

I care more than my next breath.

“I won’t make you relive that hell. But I require a name.”

“He didn’t …” She tugged at my white coat like a child. “A guy mistook his door for the bathroom, so he got interrupted. He hurt me, but he didn’t fully …you know.”

“If you think that lessens his punishment, you’re wrong. His fate was sealed the moment he touched you.”

“I don’t want you to see me as damaged goods.”

Fresh rage exploded through me. She’d been the victim of something unimaginable, and nowshelived with a scarlet letter on her self-esteem?

“Listen carefully.” I cradled her face. “Nothing, nothing, could make me think less of you.” When she pressed her forehead to my chest, I kissed her crown, breathing in the scent of her. “Knowing you survived this? It only proves what I’ve always known about your strength. Now. Please. A name.”

“Why do you want to know?” She pulled back, eyelids growing heavier.

Damn. Should’ve gone with 1 mg.

“Police said they can’t prove the letters are from him.”

I lifted her chin. “What letters?”

She tilted her head. “In movies, they have handwriting experts. How come they can’t do that?”

“Focus, Tessa. What letters? Did he contact you after?”

“Are you going to find out why I’ve been sick?”

I exhaled slowly, trying to find my patience. “Working on it. What’s from him? Did he contact you?”

“He was so handsome,” she mumbled, playing with her IV. “Could’ve had any woman. He didn’t need to …” Her lip quivered again.

“Name, Tessa. Give me his name. Now.”