Meet Me Halfway(36)

He increased his attempts at first, each action growing wilder and more desperate than the one before. He squeezed my ass hard enough to bruise, and when that didn’t pull anything from me, he bit my lip.

Only then, when I’d still failed to react, did he pull back. I didn’t avert my eyes from the spot on the wall, and it took everything in me not to wipe at the smears of saliva across my lips and chin.

Keeping my voice as flat and calm as I could manage, I asked, “Is there anything work-related I can help you with?”

His head pulled back another inch, brow creased, and his lips thinned. He released me, dropping his arms at his sides. He stared, his expression tight, and for a moment he looked nervous. But he wiped it away with an arrogant smirk. He raised a hand, wiping his thumb across his mouth.

“Not work-related, no.”

“Then I need to go,” I said, rearranging my armload of bent pages. “Excuse me.”

He stepped to the side, and for one glorious moment I thought he’d actually let me pass without another word, but he snatched my elbow in a firm grip. “Don’t make this into something it wasn’t. No one needs to know what we do in private.”

Was he trying to convince me or himself? If he thought I was running to Jim’s office to report him, he was wrong. Why would I waste my time? I’d verbally complained about Rob to both Evaline and Jim several times, and nothing had ever been done. Rob was just being friendly.

So no, I wouldn’t run to Jim. I was going to walk my butt right back into my own office, sit at my desk, and finish preparing the list I’d promised Evaline.

Only then would I address the issue in a written email, sent directly through the company network. Hopefully, he’d finally take me seriously this time.

I calmly unhooked his fingers from my elbow, knowing I only succeeded because he let me, and walked out of the room. He followed me, stopping at the doorway to my office, watching me.

It didn’t bother me; I was still safely tucked away in my corner. So, I ignored him, pulling my chair up to my desk and going about my job. He said something before he left, but I was no longer listening.

A hurricane was screaming around me, debris crashing at my feet, hair whipping across my eyes, but I sat through it, signing my name on document after document. It was fine.

It’d all be fine.





“Quit.”

“I can’t quit. It’s my main source of income.”

Layla’s string of expletives echoed out of the speakers of my Jeep, “If they don’t fire him before you show back up tomorrow, fucking quit, Mads.”

“He will be.”

“He better.”

I was confident he would. The speed with which Jim arrived at the door of my office before his lunch was even over, beat even what I’d anticipated. My email to him had been short but clear.

Mr. Grayson:





Attached you will find a spreadsheet documenting every interaction that has occurred between myself and Rob Spencer since the first date of my employment. It includes each date, the occurrence in detail, and whether or not I approached yourself or Mrs. Grayson.





The list is up to date, including today’s occurrence. I would like to schedule a meeting at your earliest convenience.





Sincerely,

Madison Hartland





Something else I’d learned in life, between college and abuse, was that written, dated notes were everything.

Our meeting had been brief. Everything that needed to be said was documented in my email. He’d apologized profusely and been adamant that Rob would no longer be welcome at the company. Although I was relieved that he wasn’t trying to blame me, I refused to thank him for taking action only after being forced into it.

Jim wasn’t an awful person, nor was he necessarily a bad employer, overall. He just hadn’t taken my complaints seriously until now. He fell under the long list of people who brushed “harmless” harassment accusations under the proverbial rug. “That’s just how he is” or “He was just flirting.” I wasn’t even angry, only disappointed.

Jim sent me home immediately after, promising to pay me for the rest of the day, and I’d called Layla the moment I started my vehicle.

“Do you want me to come home?”

I turned into my driveway, wanting nothing more than for this day to be over. But hey, glass half full, at least I’d gained a few hours to laze about the house before I needed to pick up Jamie.

“No, enjoy your time with lover boy after work. I’ll probably take a shower and rest.”

“Bish, no you won’t. You’d make it one minute before picking up a damn textbook.”

I laughed, the sound feeling foreign in my husk of a chest. She knew me way too well. “I’m hanging up.”

“Love you, wench.”

I turned off the ignition and stepped out onto the drive, heels dangling from my hand. Something looked different. I tilted my head, examining the house, trying to pinpoint what it was. My brows met my hairline. My yard was mowed, and my fence was…white.

From the day we’d moved in, it’d been almost solid green from the massive amount of pollen that saturated the air each year. The landlord never came out to do anything—hello, broken dishwasher—and I didn’t have the means to do it. I didn’t even own a garden hose.