Tortured Sinner by Tessa James

Johnny - 30

It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with Claire, because holy fuck I do—I just can’t.

At least, not yet.

And maybe it was because I was doing the very thing she asked me not to, treating her like she’s this fragile person. It’s not that I don’t see Claire as this strong woman, it’s that so many terrible things keep happening in her life, and I don’t want to add to that. She deserves kindness and gentleness. To be treated like the goddess I see her as.

Everything bad was too fresh. The accident with Griffin, even what went down tonight. I haven't made a dent in redeeming myself for the way I've treated her the first couple weeks we knew each other. I can't bring myself to taint such an intimate experience because I can't keep it in my pants. I've been with other girls, but in hindsight, every time was totally meaningless compared to Claire.

And honestly, just processing all of this is a huge fucking surprise to my own system. She's absolutely stunning. Her body is a complete knockout, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't imagined what it would be like to be inside her. What guy in his right mind would turn Claire down? But that's the whole point. I don't want to be like every other dude that crosses her path. Maybe I'm being a fool, constantly overthinking and trying to protect everyone else. I've already risked so much by being with her, and I have to be careful with how many more lines I cross.

I glance up ahead to see Bram standing on a short ladder out front of his shop. He fidgets with the lightbulb in his sign, and it flickers in response.

“You need a hand?” I say when we get close enough.

He turns it one last time and the light becomes steady. “Nope. I think I’ve got it. Thanks, though.” Bram carefully climbs down. “What are you two up to?” He tries to hide his grin, but he fails epically.

“Just heading home,” Claire replies.

“Actually.” I point into the café. “You hungry?” Without letting her respond, I add, “I’m starving.” It’s not totally a lie, but it’s a surefire way to deter her from her previous train of thought.

Teenage me would kick me in the ass for not taking Claire home immediately.

“Great idea,” Bram says while opening the door for us.

Claire sort of side-eyes me but goes along with my change of plans.

I grab the ladder. “This go in the storage room?”

"Yep, thanks, Johnny." Bram turns to Claire and smiles. "Sit wherever you want." He follows me into the back. "Right over there is fine."

I place the step stool on the hook and make sure it’s securely in place.

“I’m glad you’re taking my advice.” Bram is terrible at being subtle.

“Yeah?”

“I’m telling you”—his gaze trails off like he’s recalling a distant memory—“the moment I saw her, I knew you two would hit it off.”

I laugh and lean against the wall. “Think so?”

Bram nods aggressively. “Absolutely. And I’m not often wrong about such things. I know you’ve been messed up with some stuff lately, and I get that you don’t want to talk to me the way you used to, but you and Claire are good for each other…she’s your light at the end of the tunnel.”

Somehow, I understand completely what he’s talking about.

“It’s going to be hard, but try not to push her away like you have with everyone else.” Bram unties, readjusts, and reties his apron. “It’ll be worth it in the long run.”

I let his words settle over me. It’s nothing that I hadn’t already thought of myself, but to hear him say it—to see it—it’s refreshing to know I’m not just imagining it all.

Bram grips my shoulder and gives it a firm shake. “I love love, don’t you?”

He leaves me behind with that single term.

Love.

Such a foreign thing in my life. Something I haven’t known since I was young, and even then, I don’t really feel certain that’s what it was. A parent’s love is strange, almost forced. There’s no real choice in the matter. They either love you or they don’t. Not that falling in love with someone is ever really in your control either, but it takes a conscious effort to maintain.

Love is deliberate; it’s raw, it’s powerful.

And I am fully consumed in it.

* * *

Iwake to the sound of knocking. My eyes blink open and I take in the sight of the beautiful creature in my arms. Somehow last night I managed to distract her from having sex by putting her in a food coma. It was highly effective, considering she passed out shortly after we got to her place and she stripped out of her tight black crop-top and sexy skirt.

Trust me, denying the temptation brought on from her undressing in front of me was nearly too much to handle, but I persevered.

Managing to control the nonstop boner she kept giving me was an added challenge, too.

“Claire.” I gently nudge her.

She mumbles and grabs my arm, pulling it between her breasts to cuddle.

My skin grazes hers and I fight the desire that builds up inside of me to flip her over and do what I’ve wanted to do all night.

Instead, I regain my composure. “Were you expecting company?”

“What?” She lets go of me and sits up, rubbing her eyes in the process.

I bite the inside of my cheek to distract myself from her soft curves.

Baseball. Old men. Dirty socks.

Only, all of my thoughts come to a halt when I notice the discoloration of Claire’s arms. Any thought of sex is quickly erased by murderous thoughts about Griffin. How could he ever think what he did was acceptable? Who in their right mind would do that to someone? Someone they supposedly care about. How can hurting a person make you feel better about them breaking up with you?

“If I can’t have her, no one can.”His words cut through me.

I’d rather die than hurt a hair on Claire’s head. Even if she didn’t want to be with me. That’s a reality I’d rather face than doing what Griffin did. Losing her would kill me, but I’d do it ten times over if it meant her happiness.

The knock rattles again, this time a little louder.

She hops off the bed and reaches for the closest piece of clothing, which happens to be one of my fitted T-shirts. It’s dark and hangs loosely on her body. She slides into a pair of cotton shorts and throws a knitted cardigan over her arms. “I’ll be right back.”

I raise on my elbows. “I’ll—”

“No, stay here.” She rushes out of the room and down the hall.

The front door creaks open and I wait impatiently for any sign of who it might be. There’s a peephole, so I’m sure Claire was mindful in her decision to greet the random person showing up at her doorstep bright and early on a Sunday.

“Morning,” a man says. “Miss Cooper?”

“Yeah.” Claire clears her throat. “Yes.”

“Officer Donovan. Do you mind if I come in to ask you a few questions?”

As in police officer? Fuck.

“Um, sure.”

“It’ll only take a few moments.” He steps inside.

I stay quiet in her bed, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. It drives me fucking crazy not to be out there with her, but she’s already done so much to protect me; I’d be stupid to ruin it now.

I listen intently to every single move they make.

Their bodies shuffle toward the living room, giving me a little better vantage point to hear what’s going on.

“Do you, uh, want some water or something?” she asks him.

“No. Thank you, though.”

She settles into one of the seats in the awkwardly laid out space. Her breath catches, and even this far away, I can tell she’s trying to steady herself.

She’s nervous, for obvious reasons.

“I’d like to talk about what happened the other night, if that’s okay?” The officer has a friendly, casual tone, despite the gravity of the situation.

“Sure.”

I concentrate hard on sending Claire all of my strength to get her through this conversation. I’m sure it’s meaningless, but it’s the best I can do given the circumstances.

“Can you walk me through the events?” He clicks a pen and waits for her response.

"I was heading to my place when Griffin showed up out of nowhere.”

“And this Griffin, how do you two know each other?”

“We dated, for a while, back home. But we recently broke up.”

“I see…so you weren’t aware of his visit?”

“No, not at all. It was a shock, really.”

“What happened next?”

“Um, he…” Claire’s voice trails off as she recalls the traumatic experience.

“Miss Cooper, I understand these types of things can be difficult to discuss.” His words are followed by the sound of a shuffling of paper. “I’d like to show you something.”

She must be looking the document over because there’s nothing but silence.

Finally, she says, “I had no idea.”

“But tell me, does this surprise you?”

She sighs. “No.”

“This man has a history of violence littering his past. You weren’t his first victim, but my hope is that you’re his last. And with your help, I might be able to make that happen.”

Rage builds inside of me at the idea of how much time Claire had spent under Griffin’s thumb. It’s a miracle he hadn’t done something much worse.

“What do you mean, my help?” Claire seems confused.

“Your statement of what transpired. The state would like to build a case to prosecute Mr. Thomas.” The officer adds, “You’re not in trouble for defending yourself, Miss Cooper.”

Only, it wasn’t Claire that shoved Griffin down the stairs, it was me. I’m the one who should be being questioned right now, not her. Claire’s hands are clean, and I’m sitting in here letting her take the heat for something she didn’t do.

Her voice cracks. “He, um…he grabbed me. He was really mad. Madder than I’ve ever seen him be. He just kept…shaking me.” She lets out a breath. “He had been drinking, I could smell it on him.”

The officer mumbles something of an acknowledgment for her to continue.

“He kept guiding me toward the steps, just out there.”

I imagine her pointing toward the spot outside her door.

“His fingers—he gripped my arms tighter and tighter until we were right on the edge. I begged him to let me go, I really did.” She remains calm, despite the storm I know is raging inside of her. “It all happened so fast…one second he was screaming at me, the next he was tumbling down the stairs. I think he slipped or something. He must have misjudged his footing. I ran down after him and called for help immediately.”

Clearly, she omitted the part where I showed up, guided him to move to get Claire safely away from the top, and then grabbed him by the collar. Plus, the whole shoving him with force when he threatened the implication of ending Claire's life.

“And to confirm, you were alone? No one else was with you?”

I cringe at the question, knowing damn well what her answer will be.

“No, I had just gotten done studying and was going inside.”

I never meant to put Claire in the position where she would have to lie, especially to authorities. She could get caught, she could be charged with making a false statement, and that would probably ruin the State’s chance of prosecuting Griffin, not to mention make Claire out to be a liar.

He doesn’t press the topic of her company anymore. “You’re correct about the alcohol consumption. The hospital did a blood test to determine he was under the influence.”

Claire doesn’t respond.

“One more thing, before I leave you be.”

“Yes?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in her tone.

“You mentioned Mr. Thomas grabbing your arms, can I take a look?”

I can only imagine the dread consuming Claire. She does her best to conceal the bruises and not allow anyone to see them. Even me. It’s clear she carries shame and who knows what else with the visual reminder of the assault.

She must pull up her sleeves, because the officer quietly clucks and sighs.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he tells her, compassion and sympathy lining his voice. “If I could just snap a few photos for the record.”

Which must be another punch to Claire’s gut.

It doesn’t take him long, but I’m sure every second is antagonizing for her.

“I’ll be in touch,” he tells her. “I’m hoping to get a statement from Mr. Thomas, but I’m not sure if that will be possible.”

“Oh?”

I strain to hear the rest of their conversation from their spot near the door.

Officer Donovan pauses before leaving. “You’re unaware of his condition?”

Claire must shake her head because he continues.

"At this point, he's in a medically induced coma to try to give the swelling on his brain time to reduce. Doctors seem unsure of his prognosis."

The door opens, and I can’t hear the rest of what’s said.

I quietly hop up from the bed and impatiently wait for Claire to return.

She comes down the hall a minute later. "That was humiliating." Claire holds her arms close to her chest like she's shielding herself from the world.

From everything, including me.