“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“Bummer.”

At some point last night she’d decided not to drink alone, but to drink with everybody else. Drinking had been her first mistake. The company she’d chosen had been her second.

Eleanor tried to sit up but Lisa stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

“You’ve got a saline IV in your arm. You’re dehydrated. Try not to move.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No, I’m not. I’m with the rape crisis center. They called me.”

“Why?”

“The young lady who called 911 said she found a boy on top of you.”

“I’m gonna kill Katie.”

“Katie?”

“My freshman-year roommate. Women’s studies major. She’s the one who called, right?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Sean and I were making out. Katie overreacted. She’s trained to overreact.”

“Sean who?”

“Sean, the drunk guy. I pulled him on top of me because we were both drunk off our asses and wanted to make out. I fell asleep in the middle of it. As drunk as he was he probably didn’t even notice. I think I puked on him.”

“Eleanor, many victims go through a denial stage—”

“Oh, my God.” Eleanor lowered her voice as her own words caused her brain to vibrate against her skull. “I am hungover. I am exhausted. I am dehydrated, and I need a ten-hour shower. And last night I was stupid. But I am not now, nor have I ever been, a victim of anything or anyone but my own bad decisions, okay? Now, I’m sure somebody got raped in this town last night. How about you go help her?”

“Eleanor,” Lisa said with an annoyingly soothing voice. “Please let me help you.”

“You can help me. I’m going to give you a phone number. I need you to call it.”

“I can do that, Eleanor. Am I calling your mom?”

“A woman named Sam will answer the phone. Ask for Kingsley. Tell him what hospital I’m at. Tell him I was brought in for alcohol-induced stupidity and, for God’s sake, tell him to please come get me.”

Eleanor closed her eyes and willed herself back to sleep. When she woke up again, she had a much firmer grasp on consciousness. She turned her head and saw a woman, about forty years old, sitting in the chair next to her making rapid notes onto some sort of form.

“Are you Lisa or did I dream that?”

“I’m Lisa. Can I get you anything?”

“Did you call that number?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened to you, Eleanor?”

“I got shit-faced and passed out. I woke up puking.”

“Would you consent to a rape exam?”

“I must be speaking a foreign language. No means no, you know? No, I didn’t get raped. But do the test if it’ll shut you up finally.”

That didn’t seem to be the answer Lisa wanted or expected. Still, two nurses and a female doctor came in her room only minutes later.

The exam was over and done in a few minutes. She’d never had a pelvic exam before but knew what was involved. The speculum didn’t hurt, although it made her stomach feel weird. In ten minutes, she had her clothes on again.

“They’ll run some tests on the swabs they took, but they didn’t see any evidence of trauma. In fact, your hymen—”

“Is intact. And so is my brain.”

“It’s still possible … We’ll wait for the test results.”

“Can I go now?” Her head ached, her body ached, her heart ached.

“We’ll get your discharge papers. There is someone waiting to see you.”

“Is it a superhot French guy in Hessian boots?”

“Um, no. This man is a priest. But if you don’t—”

“Let him in. Right now. Please. And you can go.”

“Of course.” Lisa gave her a kind, sympathetic look that Eleanor wanted to rip off her face.

She left the room and seconds later Søren pushed open the door. Before she could even speak Søren had her wrapped in his arms.

He wore his collar and clerics and she’d never in her life been so grateful to be in love with a priest. The clergy were more welcome in a hospital than any other place on earth.

She rejoiced in his arms around her, rejoiced in his chest that she rested her head against, rejoiced in that scent of him, clean as a midnight in winter.

“You’re back early,” she whispered through tears.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Any reason?”

“I never need a reason to come back to you.”

She looked up at him.

“I guess I ruined the surprise.”

He brushed tears off her face.

“Never, Little One. Never.”

He kissed her forehead, and she clung to him even tighter.

“I was at Kingsley’s when the hospital called. They said you had alcohol poisoning.”

She winced at the abject concern in his voice. Judgment, anger … that she expected. The kindness hurt worse than a beating would have.

“I got stupid drunk last night for stupid reasons and it led to stupid behavior.”

“If it helps, the last time Kingsley and I drank together we both ended up on the roof of the rectory. For the life of me I can’t remember how we got down again.”