“Just because he didn’t want to break up, that doesn’t give him the right to—”
“I know,” she said sharply, her hand still rubbing her neck.
His gaze narrowed, studying the way her long black hair fell over her shoulders. Her pale skin offered a stark contrast to her dark locks. Except around her neck. The area beneath her fingers appeared red. He had to look hard to see it. But a series of scratch marks stood out against the creamy white skin. As if she’d been trying to tear something away from her neck—or someone. Like the person who’d left behind those angry red marks.
“Ah hell, Josie.” He moved closer and drew her into his arms. At first it was like hugging a two-by-four length of wood. But gradually, she relaxed and wrapped her arms around him. And he just held her, not trusting himself to speak. If he opened his mouth now words like “I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you again” would tumble out. But he couldn’t make that promise. He couldn’t stay by her side, ready and willing to save the day. His dad and grandmother were depending on him to show up at basic training and go wherever the hell the marines needed him.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” she whispered, her cheek against his shoulder. “Not my dad. And please promise me you won’t breathe a word about this to Dominic.”
“Josephine.” He drew back and looked down at her. “Travis hurt you. He deserves to rot in a cell for what he did.”
“It’s his word against mine,” she said softly.
“I saw him,” he ground out. “His hand raised above you—I saw him.”
“You’re leaving in two weeks. And then it will be just the same as it was after the homecoming dance when we were caught in the hay wagon.”
“What?” His brow furrowed. He couldn’t draw the parallel between two teenagers discovered in a somewhat compromising position—and they’d both had most of their clothes on—to a two-hundred-pound man slapping his girlfriend and wrapping his hands around her neck.
“Everyone saw Travis holding my underwear and thought, ‘Boys will be boys,’ ” she said. “But then they looked at me and thought, ‘Slut.’ I swear there are still some people in this town who think I hypnotized him with my breasts and made him follow me to that wagon. He couldn’t help himself. And it will be the same thing this time. They’ll take one look at me and think, ‘No! Not our football star!’ ” She delivered those words in a familiar high-pitched, condescending tone.
“Josie—”
“Face it, Noah. As soon as you leave, Travis will take your place as the town Golden Boy. He’ll be the hero everyone pats on the back. They’ll tell the story of his winning touchdown at that game leading up to the state championship over and over just like they told yours.”
“We won state my year,” he pointed out. But after four years, the thrill of the win had faded. He hadn’t been able to afford college. And while he’d been the best in a small town, he wasn’t good enough for a full scholarship. He stayed in Forever along with his two best friends, all lost in a town they’d lived in their whole lives.
Now they’d finally settled on something. Military service. A career with purpose, challenge, and a steady paycheck. They were going to do something good and become heroes for something other than throwing a piece of pigskin.
“Travis will be untouchable,” Josie continued. “And I’ll still be . . . me.”
“There is nothing wrong with you,” he said quickly, wishing like hell she hadn’t hit the nail on the damn head with her summary of Forever, Oregon.
Sure, not everyone tossed Travis up on a pedestal. But most did. Football had a tight grip on the town. He knew that better than anyone. He’d spent years on his podium in the clouds. And yeah, it might have gone to his head if he hadn’t faced the day-to-day struggles of life with a widowed father working to make ends meet for him and his grandmother.
“There’s plenty wrong with me,” she shot back. “I’m stubborn, headstrong, and my best friend’s mother owns a strip club outside of town. Oh, and I like sex.”
“Nothing on your list points to a character flaw,” he said, lumping every bullet point together, not wishing to point out that “I like sex” was definitely in the plus category as far as he was concerned. But if her brother heard those words, he’d probably have a different opinion. And Noah should be approaching this situation—and any other that involved Josie—as if she were his kid sister.
She pulled away, stepping out of his reach. “I need your word,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “That you won’t tell anyone.”
“Three conditions.” He folded his arms across his chest in a pose that mirrored hers. “First, you stop seeing him.”
“Done,” she said. “I’ll tell him again and again until he gets the message.”
He shook his head. “No. You can call him. But I’ll make sure he understands. That’s my second condition. I’m going to have a chat with your soon-to-be ex.”
She nodded.
“Third condition,” he said, knowing this one would be tricky. “If you ever land in a situation you can’t handle, call me.”
She let out a raspy laugh. “And you’ll what? Ride in on your white horse and save me? From Afghanistan? Or Iraq? Or wherever else they’re sending recently enlisted marines these days?”
“Call, email, or send a letter. Hell, send a carrier pigeon. I don’t care how you get in touch, or where I am. If you need me, I’ll find a way to help. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing. You’re like family to me, Josie. And I’m always here for you.”
“Like family?” She raised an eyebrow. “So you’re doing this for Dominic? Because my brother is your BFF?”
“No, I’m doing this because I care about you,” he growled.