“Fucking bitch!”
I don’t wait to see if he gets up. I just run, back to my car where my purse is still lying on the ground. I nearly slip and fall on the gravel beneath my heels as I run as fast as my legs will carry me.
As I reach down to grab the handle of my purse, a hand rests on my shoulder, startling me so I stand up flinging my fists at the person.
“Woah! Hey, calm down,” the man says with his hands in the air. “I’m just trying to help. I heard screaming out here. Was that you?”
I nod, feeling tears forming now in my eyes. “Yes. I was attacked. He’s over there.” I point at the area where I left Jesus, seeing him still clutching his stomach on the ground and my body continues to tremble.
“Shit. Stay here.” The man races in that direction and pins Jesus to the rocks beneath him, holding his hands behind his back with a knee between his shoulder blades. “Call 9-1-1!” He yells over at me as I nod and dig through my purse, locating my phone. I press the buttons with shaky fingers and wait for a voice to pick up on the other side of the line.
Within five minutes, two police cruisers and an ambulance are in the parking lot of the brewery, as well as most of the patrons that were inside. I’m sitting in the ambulance being assessed by a paramedic and asked questions by a police officer when the man that held down Jesus for the cops comes back over to check on me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. I’m just shaken up a bit.”
“With good reason. I’m Wyatt Gibson, by the way. I own this place.” He reaches out to shake my hand and I reciprocate.
“Sydney Matthews.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Judge Matthews’ daughter?”
I roll my eyes. “Yup, that’s me.”
“So that explains why he’s here.” My eyes shift to where his gaze trailed and sure enough my father is searching the parking lot with desperation all over his face.
“Jesus Christ!” He runs over to me once our eyes lock and pulls me into his arms. “Sydney, are you alright? My God, what happened?” I watch him survey my entire body as I huddle under the blanket the paramedic gave me.
“I’m okay. I was … I was attacked again.”
“Shit,” he mumbles. “Did you use your gun?”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “I actually kneed him in the crotch and kicked him in the face. I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.”
He huffs out a relieved breath and then tilts his head at me. “You learned that in that self-defense class, didn’t you?”
My head bobs up and down as tears fall once more. He pulls me into his arms again and I cry, letting out every ounce of anguish running through my body while finally feeling safe after yet another traumatic evening in my life. I silently wonder how many nights of sleep I’ll lose because of this attack and debate if I have any sleeping pills left at all.
“Hey, it’s okay, honey. I’m here.”
“I was so scared, Dad,” I mumble between breaths against his chest.
“I can only imagine. But you did good, sweetie. You were able to defend yourself, just like you wanted.”
As I push away from him and wipe my face, I peer up at his eyes. “Yeah. And I wouldn’t have been able to if it weren’t for Javi.”
My admission rests between us as red and blue lights swirl in the night sky and people mill about, even though I feel like my life has come to a complete stop.
By the time I give my official statement and get cleared by the paramedics, my father follows me home and offers to stay the night in my guest room if I want him to.
“No, it’s okay, Dad. I’ll be alright. I’m just going to take a hot bath and relax.”
“I let Byron know you won’t be in tomorrow.” He continues to click keys on his phone as he stands at the bottom of my staircase.
“I appreciate that. But I need to work. I have court tomorrow.”
“Court can wait, Sydney. Your life is more important than your job.”
I descend the stairs, staring up at him, fighting back tears again. “Thank you for being here, Dad. I love you.”
He kisses me on the top of my head while pulling me close. “I love you too, Sydney. You’ll always be my little girl.”
“I know.”
We say our goodbyes and then I head for my bathroom, filling the tub with scalding hot water, welcoming the burn against my skin since it makes me feel alive.
I could have been another victim of Jesus’s tonight if I hadn’t been prepared.
If I hadn’t taken my safety in my own hands and done something about it months ago.
If I hadn’t trusted Javier to give me the confidence I so desperately needed after the first attack on my life.
And now that he’s been arrested, perhaps he can suffer the consequences he actually deserves for what he did to Selena—and to Javi.
As I curl up under my covers and will my mind to sleep, the only thing I want more than anything after tonight is to tell the man I love that he saved me—and yet, I don’t know that he’d want to know, not when he’s been radio silent for weeks.
I reach for my phone, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard as I contemplate telling Javi what happened tonight, but my pride wins out. I don’t want him to reach out to me out of pity or obligation. If he finally comes to his senses, I want it to
