Tough Enough

“My fists?” I try not to let the look on Rogan’s face affect me. He looks like I physically slapped him. “God, Katie, I would never, ever hurt you. Ever!” He raises his big hands up in front of him. “These hands will never touch you in anger. I’d rather die than see fear or pain on your face. How could you think otherwise?”

It burns in my chest like acid, that he could still, after all this, make me feel anything but disgust for him. And yet he does. He looks heartbroken that I would even suggest such a thing. And seeing him this way hurts me. Even though I hate him right this minute, and even though what he’s done is unforgiveable, I still don’t want to see him hurt.

“I’m not saying you would ever hit me. I’m just saying that I can’t watch things like that. I can’t cheer you on while you beat the crap out of another human being for money or fame or beautiful women. Or for whatever other reasons you do it.”

“I told you why I fight, Katie.”

“I know, but . . .”

I trail off, hoping he’ll just take that as enough explanation and go. Just go.

But he doesn’t.

“That’s not it, though. Or at least that’s not all. I saw you in the hallway. You turned so pale. I saw it. Something else happened.”

My stomach turns in on itself, like it’s going to eat a hole all the way through my spine, leaving me hollow in the middle. As hollow as I feel.

“Everything happened. Everything happened and everything fell apart.” It kills me that my voice is so deplorably small. Once again, my anger has abandoned me. As quick as that, as quick as his question. The agony of betrayal is the only emotion available to me now. Even when I’d rather hold on to my fury, I can’t find it beneath all the hurt. “I watched you pose with two women, like some sick love affair. I watched you smile with the man who had my case dismissed as an accident. And then I watched you have your picture taken with the person who set my car on fire.” Rogan’s brows knit together for a few seconds before he pales beneath his tan. I see how my words affect him, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I can’t give him an inch or I’ll crumble. “And then, as if that weren’t enough, Victoria played her hand and exposed my scars for all the world to see. Scars that she said you told her about.”

I hate that my voice trembles. I hate that my chin quivers. I hate that he can see how weak I am, how weak and pathetic. But this will all be over soon and I’ll be on my way back to Enchantment. There, I can hide. There, I can lick my wounds in private. There, I can disappear until I find a new way forward. Until I can get away and start a new life.

Again.

Rogan shakes his head as though to clear it, like he’s overwhelmed. I guess he didn’t think he’d get caught so red-handed. Or maybe he just thought he’d never get caught at all.

When he finally collects himself, he drops to one knee in front of me, his eyes trained steadily on mine. “Katie, listen to me. I don’t know what she said or why she’d tell you that, but as God is my witness, I never told Victoria your secret. I’ve never told anyone. I would never do that to you. I thought you trusted me.”

Again, he looks wounded. And again, it kills me to see his hurt.

I remind myself that it’s probably not even real, though. It’s probably as fabricated as everything else has been between us. Facts don’t lie. And I’m drowning in facts right now.

I can’t give in. I can’t trust him. That’s why I’m in this position to start with.

“I did trust you, Rogan. And look where it got me.”

“I don’t . . . I didn’t . . . Katie, I swear I—”

“You’re the only one who knew except Mona. And even if she were going to betray me after two years, she certainly wouldn’t tell Victoria of all people.”

Rogan bows his head in defeat. I won. Only I don’t feel like the victor.

After several seconds of quiet, his head snaps up and his wide eyes lock onto mine. “Ro

I frown. I had forgotten about the incident with Ro

Even in my tiny little world inside the studio, I’ve heard the rumors floating around about Ro

“I’m sure neither of us rank high on his list of favorite people,” Rogan adds, watching me with hopeful eyes. “Please, Katie. You have to believe me. I would never, never do something like that to you.”

Like he’s been able to do from the day we met, I feel Rogan softening me, taking the edge off my anger, soothing my hurt. Breaking down my defenses. But it’s no matter. The fact remains that he can’t be trusted. His associations prove that.

“Fine. I’ll give you that one, but what about Senator Sims? And Calvin? How could I ever trust someone who’s in league with men like that?”

Sadness steals over Rogan’s handsome face and stabs at my heart. “They’re just business associates, Katie. Nothing more. I had no way of knowing what they’d done to you.”

“But you can understand why I can’t have anything to do with them. Nothing. At all. Ever. Right?”

Rogan gazes intently at me. His silence might be more painful than anything else. Something tells me that this is the one thing he can’t explain away. Can’t fix. Can’t or won’t.

He looks defeated.

“Yes, I completely understand. And as much as I hate them both for what they did to you . . .” I see his jaw flex as he looks away from me, like he’s resisting murderous impulses. “As much as I’d like to tear them both limb from limb, there’s nothing I can do about it. They’re . . . I can’t . . . There’s just nothing I can do.”

Suddenly I feel desperate, desperate for him to explain it away in terms that won’t rip me apart. But I’m terrified that he won’t. “But why? What are they to you?”

“They’re . . . well, Senator Sims is my benefactor.”

I guess, when it boils down to it, I was secretly hoping that Rogan would be able to explain away his association with the two most awful men that I know. Part of me even expected that he might chase me down in Enchantment and explain it all away and we could pick up where we left off. But reality isn’t like a romance novel. Sometimes there isn’t a happy ending to be had. Sometimes things just don’t work out.

“So this is about money? You’d keep people like that close to you for money? Knowing, now, what they did to me?”

I’m incredulous. I’m confused. I’m devastated.

“It’s not about the money.”

“Then what is it about?”

Reaching out to take my clasped hands in his, Rogan closes his eyes and drops his forehead onto them. “Katie, please. You just have to trust me.”

You have to trust me.

That’s not an answer. Not a denial. Not an explanation. Not a promise or a platitude. Because it’s the truth. He can’t even deny it. He has no quick excuse or story to tell. So he’s hedging. The fact of the matter is Rogan has a price. A literal price. And nothing is worth more to him. Not even me.

“Trust you? Trust you? How can I trust you? I feel like I don’t even know you.”

There is a physical tightening of everything from my sternum to my navel. It feels as though an excruciating weight is bearing down on me and I’m struggling to resist. My muscles tremble with the effort not to be crushed.

I just want to fold over, to curl into myself and vanish. How could I be so wrong about someone?

You were about Calvin. Now it’s happening again.

Rogan releases my hands and leans into me, cupping my cheeks. I feel the tears that I can’t hold back stream from the corners of my eyes to pour over his fingers. His expression is urgent, determined. Desperate.