“Have you eaten breakfast? I can make pancakes.”

What? “I’m not hungry, Rach, come talk to me.”

“You’re always hungry.” She walked past me and into the kitchen.

“If you’re hungry, we can get something later. But for now, come talk to me about what just happened.”

She faltered somewhat but kept walking into the kitchen. When she hit the pantry she shrugged and looked over her shoulder at me. “Mrs. Adams caught me at a bad time, I was just getting out of the shower. I didn’t feel like helping her this week.”

“Bullshit, you’re the only one who will help her. You said she needs it. Why were you crying?”

“Cramps.”

“Woman, get the f**k out of the kitchen and come talk to me!”

Her body went rigid as she turned to completely face me. Her blue eyes were massive and after a few seconds she laughed awkwardly and turned back to the open pantry. “First time in the history of the world a female was told to get out of the kitchen.”

“Damn it, Rachel. I’m not kidding! I want to know what the f**k happened to you; you’re done throwing up your damn shield with me!” Calm down, man. Calm the hell down. You’re going to scare her and she’s going to run rather than talk to you. “Rachel.” I lowered my voice and spoke softly. “Get your ass on the couch. Now.”

Without a word, she made her way back into the living room and sat on the far corner of the main couch, exactly where she’d been when I walked in earlier. Taking another deep breath, I forced myself to sit on the opposite side when all I wanted to do was pace or pull her into my arms. I waited until I’d fully calmed down before saying anything. She still had yet to look at me since she’d sat down, and I decided this was the day I’d throw out that shield for good. I never wanted her to use it around me again.

Praying to God that Mason and I were wrong about this, I started off how I would with anyone else I was questioning. Like I knew exactly what they were hiding. “Tell me who the guy is who did this to you.”

Her head snapped up and her eyes widened before she could look away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her body started shaking again and she pulled her knees up to her chest like earlier.

Oh f**k. No, Rach . . . God, no. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I kept going. “When did it happen?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated.

“What’s his name?”

“Whose?”

“Do you know him, or was it a stranger?”

She paused before answering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kash.”

“You know him. Does Candice know about this?”

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

God, baby, trust me, I don’t want to be. “When did it happen?”

We continued to go in circles as I asked the same questions over and over, and then asked somewhat different variations of the same questions, every now and then throwing in an assumption, and after almost ten minutes, the tears started falling down her face. It killed me, but I couldn’t stop. I kept my voice monotone and forced myself to stay in my spot on the couch as her body tried hopelessly to curl in on itself while it vibrated almost forcefully. When I finally had her on the edge, I softened my voice and asked the question I didn’t want to know the answer to but needed to.

“When were you raped, Rachel?”

“I wasn’t raped!” she yelled, and her hands flew up to her face as a sob left her. Her shoulders began shaking harder with the sobs that were now coming, and I ground my jaw as I waited for her. “He didn’t—he wasn’t able to finish—Candice came back!” she cried. “He tried . . . he started to, but she came back. I tried to get him off me! He was choking me, I couldn’t breathe.”

“So, Candice knows?”

Her head shook furiously back and forth. “I tried—tried to tell her. She wouldn’t listen, and she won’t believe me. She . . . everyone thinks he can do no wrong. But he’s crazy, Logan.” She looked at me, her tear-streaked face breaking my heart as she willed me to understand. “He told me no one would believe me, he said I was his and he wouldn’t let anyone touch me. H-he’s crazy, I swear!”

“What’s his name?” She shook her head again and I wanted to shake her. “I need to know his name, Rach. What’s his name?”

“He works at the school. I have to see him every day because of my major. Candice too. But no one will believe you. Everyone loves him.”

This sick f**k is a professor? “Name. What’s his name?” When she didn’t respond, I went back to my earlier questions. “Did this happen last night?”

She jerked back and stared at me. “N-no! I haven’t seen him since that night. It was the week before school let out.”

“This morning?”

“I had another nightmare about him. He showed up at the door. This time—” She broke off on a sob. “No one was there to stop him before he finished this time.”

Rachel. I wanted nothing more than to hold her, but with how she’d flinched away from us earlier, that would have been anything but helpful. My heart continued to break as she mumbled, “It felt so real,” over and over again.

Giving her a second, I stood up and walked into my room, threw a pair of sweatpants over my shorts, and shrugged into a sweatshirt. God, how was she shivering? I was already sweating with this on. But if I couldn’t comfort her in the way I wanted to, I was going to do it in the only other way I knew how. I’d just be there for her. When I walked back through the living room, her sobs had quieted, but she was still in a ball. Heading into the kitchen, I grabbed two bottled waters, a spoon, and the pint of Ben and Jerry’s she always made sure I had in the freezer. I put everything on the coffee table, grabbed the remote, and searched the DVR until I found Bridesmaids. I didn’t give a shit about the two hundred dollars or breakfasts I would owe her for this.