She softened into me and nodded against my chest, still holding me tight.
I wanted to say more. I needed to make sure she knew without a doubt that I had the utmost confidence in her, that whatever she lacked in glibness and coordination, she more than made up for in a million other ways, but she’d had enough for one day, and the tough part hadn’t even started yet. So I let it go. For now. “Strong as fuck. You’re the best, baby.”
She started to smile at me, but her face dropped and she quickly turned away.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled.
“Juls, does your mouth hurt?”
A long pause and then a slow nod. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry for upsetting you. Let me get you painkillers.”
“My fault,” she mumbled. “Just ibuprofen.”
I hated that she was in pain and wanted to insist she take the stronger medicine. But I was smart enough to know when to stop, so I handed her two ibuprofen and a glass of water.
“Thank you,” she said. “Let’s finish the tacos. You can use the knife.” The corners of her lips tilted in the tiniest smile.
“No knives needed. We have enough cut already, unless you want more?” I held the handle to her in a peace offering, but thankfully she shook her head.
“Let’s make burrito bowls instead, okay? It’ll be easier to eat.”
Juliette nodded, and I wanted to kick my own ass.
By the time we finished cooking and eating, Juliette had relaxed and was talking again. Thank God all she’d needed was the meds and a little time to recover. She hadn’t even yelled, but just forcing the words out in anger was more strain than talking.
“You ready for this?” I asked gently as we pulled up to the station. It was too late to offer her an out. Even though I wanted to, so badly. We were going, and she needed my support. Under the best circumstances, she’d dread speaking to the cops. And now, with the pain and numbness in her lips, it was uncomfortable for her to talk, and her speech was less clear than usual. The officers would have to make sure they understood her correctly, which meant they’d ask her to repeat herself as many times as needed. I hated that for her.
Juliette nodded and held my hand, leaning some of her weight on me as she hobbled in her boot, smiling up at me as we walked in. Reassuring me. She was so incredible, so damnstrong. As worried as she was, she was pretending she was okay for my benefit, and that was unacceptable. My guilt was hurting her. Making her hide from me.
A receptionist greeted us and led us down a couple of hallways and into an empty room.
“Juls,” I rushed to say before we were interrupted. I held her face gently in my hands. “I’m sorry I’ve been an ass. I know this isn’t easy, and I promise I’m not going to react with anything but support and encouragement. You don’t have to hide anything from me. It’s okay if you’re nervous or scared. I’m not going to stand in your way. I’m so damn proud of you. You’re going to do amazing.”
“You’re not an ass. And you’re right, I am nervous. But that has nothing to do with you. I just need to get through this. Later, when it’s over, we can talk about it, okay?”
I kissed her forehead. “Strong as fuck, baby.”
Juliette answered all of Quint’s questions, speaking slowly and carefully. She only had to repeat herself a couple of times. Fire raged through my veins at once again hearing everything Kayla had said and done, but Juliette was calm and composed. At the end, she got to ask the question that had been on her mind. “What will happen to Kayla?”
“She committed assault with a deadly weapon. She’s going to prison.”
“She was on drugs, right?”
“I can’t tell you that, I’m sorry.”
“Well, if she was on drugs, I think she should go to rehab, not jail. And she should get a psychiatric evaluation. Maybe she needs a psychiatric hospital.”
“I can include your request in the report, but it’s ultimately up to the judge.”
We all shook hands and thanked one another, then, finally, we were in the car on the way back to her place.
We hadn’t been back to my apartment yet and I didn’t know when we would be. She’d been hurt in my home, a place that should be safe for her. Juliette said she was okay being there, but I wasn’t ready. I’d never get over the sight of her bleeding and scared, a knife at her throat and guns aimed inches away from her.
A few minutes into the drive, Juliette deflated. Her breath whooshed out of her, and she slumped in the seat, as though without that tension holding her together, she was left with nothing.