The Dixon Rule: Chapter 41

POLICE STATIONS SUCK. AND NOT ONLY BECAUSE THEY SMELL LIKE STALE coffee and the fluorescent lights give you migraines. They make you feel like you’re in trouble, even when you did nothing wrong. It’s an irrational response, I get that, but I can’t fight the feeling that everyone is judging me as I spend my Sunday at the station in Hastings.

I’m forced to go over my statement several times. The detective in charge prints all the photos and the text messages from my phone, then advises me they’ll need to contact my phone provider and verify things on their end too. Time stamps and such. She says they’ll do the same with Percy’s phone, once they get a warrant for it, and that they plan on bringing him into the station this evening.

I plan to be long gone before that happens. The idea of facing him makes me want to throw up. Yes, I faced him all summer. But this is different. It’s like we had this closet full of skeletons and both agreed to lock the door. And then, without his permission, I unlocked that door and shone a light onto what he did.

Percy’s not going to be happy, and I think Detective Wendt recognizes that because she also advises me to get a restraining order against him. Which means I need to repeat the story all over again to another officer and make another statement. By the time that happens, my dad finally arrives.

I don’t know how Shane got his number, but when Dad joins us at the station, he says Shane’s the one who called him. True to his word, Shane hasn’t left my side all day.

The cops said I could get a lawyer, but I didn’t want to wait around for hours on end for my dad’s attorney to show up. Besides, my statement is one hundred percent the truth. If Percy’s lawyer wants to twist my words later, let him. I’ll hire a lawyer once we get to the next step. According to Detective Wendt, this is all very preliminary anyway. She’s really nice, and there was nothing but sympathy on her face when I explained why I waited months to report the assault. She said she understood.

Flanked by two uniformed officers, Wendt approaches as we’re leaving the station. She says they’re going to arrest Percy now and bring him in for questioning.

But it’s not until Dad, Shane, and I are outside on the front steps that my father drops a bomb on us.

Turns out, Percy already has another assault charge on his record.

Shane curses. “Are you kidding me? Why didn’t Detective Wendt tell us that when Diana was giving her statement?”

“They’re not allowed to disclose it at this point in the investigation,” Dad says in a flat tone. “But I got my chief to run Percival’s name through our system at the precinct while I was driving down here. It showed up in the search.”

“Who did he assault?” I ask weakly.

“His previous girlfriend. Chief Stanton didn’t have access to the entire report, so we only know the basics.”

It suddenly gets hard to breathe. “I can’t believe he’s done this before.”

My father hangs his head. “This is on me. I should have done a background search when you started dating him.”

“Dad, come on.” I can’t help but laugh despite the gravity of the situation. “Of course you’re not going to run a background check on my boyfriend.”

“That’s what any good cop would do.”

“Dad, stop.”

“What exactly do we know about the other incident?” Shane presses.

Dad quickly fills us in, but he’s right—there’s not much to go on. Apparently, my ex-boyfriend assaulted a woman he dated when he was doing his undergrad in New York. And while Percy’s lawyer pushed to get the charges dropped on account of it being his first offense, the case went forward because the victim’s mother was some big shot who fought for it. Percy only got probation, though.

It doesn’t surprise me that he decided not to share this juicy tidbit with me. Why would he? Oh, by the way. I smacked my last girlfriend around too.

But this demonstrates a history of violence, and as awful as it is to think another woman might’ve suffered, it does make me feel slightly better about my own situation. Makes me wonder if maybe what happened to me was inevitable.

Although I drove to the station with Shane, my father insists on driving me home. While he goes to get the car, I stand on the curb with Shane, furrowing my brow at him.

“How did you get my dad’s number?”

He hesitates.

“Shane.”

“I asked Gigi for it,” he finally reveals.

Anxiety rushes through me. “You told her what Percy did?”

“Not at first. All I said was that you were at the police station and needed to call your dad. I told her you were okay, but she kept insisting on driving down from Boston unless I gave her some answers. So eventually I had to tell her the truth.”

I reach into my purse for my phone. It was off during the interview, and now I turn it on to a flood of texts from Gigi.

GIGI:

Are you okay?

GIGI:

I really hope you’re okay.

GIGI:

I’ll have my phone on me at all times, literally glued to my hand, waiting for you to text back. Love you.

“Are you pissed?” Shane asks nervously.

“No, it’s fine. I would’ve had to tell her anyway now that I’ve pressed charges.”

My dad’s pickup truck stops in front of us.

“See you at home?” Shane says. “I can come over.”

“Maybe later?”

He nods. “Shoot me a text if you want me.”

After a beat of hesitation, I step forward and give him a hug.

He hugs me back, and there’s something almost desperate in the way he clings to me.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” I say quietly.

Shane tucks my hair behind my ear, his voice thickening. “I hope you don’t feel like I pushed you into it.”

“No, you were right. Deep down I always knew it was the right thing to do. It needed to be done.”

There’s a reason I kept all that evidence. I think I knew I’d eventually be here, at this police station. My only regret is not doing it sooner. I hope to God that Percy’s lawyer doesn’t try to paint me as some scorned girlfriend who tried to score payback after the fact.

“And one more thing,” Shane says, tugging on my hand before I can leave. “You are unstoppable. Don’t let what this one asshole did convince you that you’re anything other than unstoppable. You’re Diana Dixon, for chrissake.”

I crack a smile. “Damn right I am.”

And yet in the truck, I don’t feel very strong. My dad doesn’t say much on the drive to Meadow Hill other than to ask how I’m doing at least four times. The fifth time he asks, we’re walking down the path toward Red Birch, and I stop to sigh in exasperation.

“Dad, it’s not like this happened last night. It happened months ago.”

His jaw tightens. “Right. And I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t report it.”

“I already explained why.” I start walking again.

He chases after me. “Diana, you know what I do for a living. I protect people. If you told me, I could have protected you.”

“It was already over and done with. The bruise healed.”

“It wasn’t done. This fucker moved into your apartment building!”

“I know, but I had Shane.”

“And thank God that you had Shane!” Dad’s face turns red, but I know he’s not angry with me. He’s upset. “What if Percy cornered you in the apartment? Did you see the layout we just walked through? That goddamn Sycamore building and now this winding path like we’re in the goddamn Caribbean? What was your aunt thinking buying a unit here? What kind of security nightmare is this?”

“There are cameras everywhere,” I remind him. “And you can’t step foot on the property without going through the Sycamore building first.”

“He was in the building, Diana. Do you not get that?”

Desperation clogs my throat. “No, I get it. I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“No. Don’t apologize. I’m not blaming you for anything,” he says as we enter Red Birch and climb to the second floor. “I’m just worried. You’re my daughter. I don’t want anything like this happening to you again.”

“It won’t.”

“You’re right. It won’t. And now we’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen to anybody else.”

“I’m sorry I waited so long to tell the police.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

It’s hard to speak past the lump in my throat. “Because you think I’m so tough.”

Dad watches as I unlock my front door, an incredulous look on his face.

“You are tough, kiddo. Even after what this fucker did to you, you’re still the toughest person I know.” He trails inside after me, reaching for my hand to stop me from keeping my back to him. “Admitting that you’re weak sometimes doesn’t mean you’re not strong. It means you’re human.”

“I didn’t want you to think differently of me.”

“I would never think differently of you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t invite this. Despite what you tried to put in your report, you didn’t provoke this asshole. You were defending yourself, and his response was dangerously disproportionate. He left marks on you.” Dad spits out a low, growled curse.

I sigh. “Are we going to need to get a restraining order against you to keep you away from him?”

“Probably,” he says, deadly serious. “It’s requiring all my willpower not to go and gather up the squad. Drive over to his house and disappear him.”

“Disappearing people isn’t even a SWAT tactic. Stop being so extra.”

“It is when someone messes with your daughter.” He chuckles. “And if you think I’m being extra, wait until your stepmother hears what this psycho did. She’ll claw him up like a mama bear.”

I groan suddenly. “Oh no. I’ll have to tell Mom about this too, won’t I?” Panic sparks in my gut. “Can you do it for me?”

Reluctance digs into his forehead. “Di. I think you need to be the one—”

“Please?” I beg. “I can’t have this conversation with her. Not right now. I can’t handle it. Can you just fill her in and tell her I’ll talk to her about it when I’m ready?”

“If you really want me to do that, I will.” He lets out a breath. “But I need you to understand something. You can handle anything that life throws your way. You will always be the strongest person I know. Hell, way stronger than I am.”

“That’s not true.”

“I mean, I divorced your mother. You still have to keep dealing with her.”

I manage a laugh. “She’s not so bad.”

“She isn’t,” he agrees. “But I do know you put on a front when you’re with her because she brings out your insecurities. And then you put on this front with me, and with your brother, that nothing bothers you. But things are gonna bother you, and bad things are going to happen. They happen all the time, unfortunately. And it kills me that I can’t stop them from happening to you. You’re my entire life, you and Tommy.”

A vise of emotion squeezes my heart.

“But here’s the thing. Even though you’re strong and capable of taking care of yourself—and I truly believe in that—you also need to be strong enough to know when to ask for help.” His expression sharpens. “And when something like this happens? You fucking ask for help, Diana.”

I bite my lip so hard, I feel a sting. “Okay.”

We settle on the couch, and Dad runs me through what will likely happen with Percy. Basically, my role in this is over for the time being. Now it’s a matter for the detectives to investigate and then the courts to handle if the DA pursues the case.

After Dad leaves, I take a shower and reflect on this day from hell. It started off so promising too. Golfing with Shane and Blake, having a great time. And somehow it ended with me having to sit in a sterile interrogation room and share my humiliation with total strangers.

I rub my face, letting the shower spray beat into my forehead. Fuck. I need to start reframing the way I think about this, I know that, but it’s difficult not to view this as embarrassing.

I just need to keep reminding myself that what happened doesn’t make me weak or pathetic. I would never dream of looking at victims of domestic abuse and thinking, gee, they’re so pathetic. I would champion them until the death. So why can’t I do the same for myself?

Although this isn’t a new thought to me, for some reason it really takes root this time. No one deserves to be hit. No woman, no man, no child. An intimate partner should not be doing that to you, ex-boyfriend or not. It’s not right.

What Percy did was not right.

I get out of the shower and towel off, then go to feed Skip. He death glares at me, and I death glare back. After his fat belly is full of diet food, I call Gigi and we spend the next hour talking about everything that happened. She’s upset I didn’t tell her about Percy and even more upset when I blubber on about how ashamed and mortified I felt. But she assures me, like my dad and Shane, that I didn’t do a damn thing to provoke this.

When we hang up, I find a text from my dad.

DAD:

I filled your mother in. Told her you would reach out when you’re ready to talk. She said okay.

Hurt stabs into me at the glaring absence of my mom’s name on my notifications list. She knows what happened with Percy and didn’t even contact me? Yes, I said I’d reach out when I was ready, but she could’ve at least checked in. A one-line text would have sufficed. Listen, I know you don’t want to talk, but I’m here for you and I’m waiting.

But that’s not Mom’s style. She’s so unemotional. This entire situation probably makes her extremely uncomfortable.

I also find a message from Shane, asking if I’m doing okay. I type back a two-word answer.

ME:

Come over.

He’s in my apartment literally a minute later. Also showered and changed, clad in a T-shirt and sweatpants, his feet bare.

Those dark hazel eyes search my face. “Rough day, huh?”

“Understatement much?”

“Yeah, I know.” He pulls me onto the couch and wraps his arm around me. “Should we watch something?”

“Sure.”

As Shane scrolls through the rows of titles on my movie channel, he looks over glumly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss Fling or Forever.”

“Me too,” I moan.

“Do we really have to wait until May?”

“May? What kind of hope planet do you come from? The new season starts next July.”

“July? We don’t even get it in June?”

“It’s tragic. The fan base has been petitioning for two seasons. Some reality shows have a summer and winter season, but so far, TRN hasn’t caved. I don’t know if they have the budget.”

“What budget? It’s not like they do anything extravagant.”

“The hacienda is pretty extravagant. And that yacht where Zoey fucked the Connor for the first time must have cost a pretty penny to rent.”

“I guess.” He absently runs his fingers over my shoulder, scanning the film options. “Ugh. There’s nothing good here.”

I take the remote from him and turn off the TV. “Let’s go to bed.”

“It’s only nine. You’re tired?”

“I didn’t mean we would be sleeping.”

His lips curve. “Oh. Got it.”

“I just need…” I give him an earnest look. “I need some TLC. Can this be a me-night?”

“Baby, it’s always a you-night. Even when I’m calling the shots, it’s always about you. You’re the only one I care about in there.”

Oh hell. When he says things like that, it’s impossible to deny my feelings.

Shane surprises me by lifting me up. Laughing, I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on to his neck. He carries me as if I weigh nothing at all and lays me on the bed so freaking gently.

“I’m not going to break,” I tease him. “I mean, I got punched in the face and survived.”

“Too soon,” he mutters. “Still makes me murderous.”

“Sorry.”

“You might have had months to deal with it, but I only found out this morning. It’s still fresh for me.”

“I get it. I won’t make jokes about it. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

His big, muscular body hovers over me, supported by his elbows. He starts kissing my neck and a shiver runs through me.

“Shane?”

“Hmmm?” His lips explore the sensitive tendons of my throat.

“Thank you for being there today.”

His breath is warm against my flesh. “You’re my girlfriend. Where else would I be?”

He didn’t say the word fake. Usually when we’re alone, we refer to ourselves as fake boyfriend and girlfriend.

Rather than point that out, I close my eyes and lose myself in his ministrations. His lips trailing over my collarbone. His hands pushing my shirt up and then his mouth coming down on my stomach to kiss it. He kisses my abdomen and my rib cage. The valley between my breasts as he slides my shirt off my neck. When I’m lying there in nothing but a pair of cotton bikini panties, he runs his hand over my bare legs, propped up on one elbow as he admires my body.

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

Shane’s eyebrows fly up. “Wow. You said thank you.”

“What do I usually say?”

“I know.” He snorts.

I shudder out a laugh. “You know I’m joking when I do that.”

“Yeah. And you know I’m dead serious when I tell you you’re gorgeous. Because you are.”

His hand skims upward again, flattening against my stomach as it climbs higher and higher until curling around my breast. He squeezes softly, fingers toying with my nipple. Then he lowers his head and slowly starts kissing my breasts.

Shane unleashes a flurry of sensations in my body. He leaves no inch of skin unkissed. It’s sweet and slow and exactly what I need. I’m gasping by the time his mouth finally travels between my legs. He plants a kiss over my underwear, smiling as he lifts his head, then slides his fingers underneath the waistband and pulls them off my ass, down my legs, and throws them away. He spreads me open and licks a sweet swirl against my clit before dragging his tongue through my slit.

“I love doing this,” he says hoarsely. “I love how responsive you are. The noises you make.”

I bite my lip as I watch him. He’s being so gentle. I know he probably thinks I’m an emotional wreck tonight, but I’m not. I would be fine if he wanted to be rough. But I don’t mind sweet Shane. I don’t mind these soft kisses. I don’t mind the tenderness of his fingertips as they dance along my hip on their way up to my breasts. With his mouth locked on my clit, he uses his other hand to ease one finger inside me. It’s the most exquisite torture.

“Don’t stop,” I plead as my hips begin to move.

“Never,” he promises.

When I feel the telltale tingling, pleasure rippling and building in my core, I start to squirm in agitation. My thighs tremble. Opening and closing of their own volition. Shane chuckles. He knows I’m close. And he knows what’s happening to me right now. That desperation I feel when I need it so bad but for some reason my body won’t give it to me.

He also knows exactly what I need to get there. He pinches my nipple and that’s it. Game over. The orgasm floods my body. Not an explosion but delicious waves of pleasure that languidly spread through me. I feel warm and cozy as Shane climbs his way up my body to kiss me. I taste myself on his lips when our tongues meet.

He cups my face, and I hook my leg over his hip. I’m completely naked, squished up against his fully clothed body.

I sigh happily. “That was nice.”

I wait for him to take off his pants, but he stays fully clothed, lazily kissing my neck again.

“You’re not gonna fuck me?” I complain.

“Not yet.” His breath tickles my chin. “I’m just enjoying this.”

We lie there kissing for what feels like ages, until eventually he gets naked and eases his thick cock inside me. The feeling of him sliding in bare is utterly exquisite. I don’t come again, but he does, groaning into my hair as he shudders with release. Afterward, I leave to clean up and pee, then crawl back into bed next to him. Shane throws the covers over us, and I peek up at him, smiling.

“Are you staying over?”

“Mmm-hmm. Is that cool?”

“Yes.”

In the three months we’ve been doing this, we’ve never spent the night together. It’s been our way to keep it strictly friends with benefits. Or rather, friends with most benefits except for sleeping over, because that feels a little too intimate.

My head rests on his chest, and it feels so good to have him holding me. For a second, I almost ask him what we are. I’m no longer fighting my feelings for this man. I want a real relationship with him, yet I’m still not sure if he wants to be serious with me. But I don’t want to spoil the moment. We can get into that another time.

Right now, my only focus is melting into his arms. I don’t want him to leave tonight. And clearly, he doesn’t either because he snuggles even closer and doesn’t let go of me the entire night.