“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, pushing his hand away. But he still crouched over me.
“First, he was drunk.” Andrew glanced at the empty bottle of alcohol. “Done that. Then he started yelling, you know, that I’d never be anything but a loser, that sort of thing.”
A funny feeling tickled my nose. “Oh, Andrew. Fuck him.”
“Yes,” he said. “That’s pretty much what happened.”
And he smiled. Something had happened. The man-boy hovering above me wasn’t Andrew, my friend, the person I loved and trusted. He’d been replaced by an echo of his father, sick and sadistic.
It wasn’t exactly the same, he said. Because I was a girl, it would hurt less. That’s what he told me anyway, but with my wrists in his hand and my body forced open, it hurt a whole hell of a lot. And then it was over, but the pain never stopped.
Chapter Three
My heart thudded, in that moment long past but never forgotten, and here in the present. Colin pulled me closer. I wouldn’t have thought I’d like to be touched right then, but it calmed me.
“I said no, but he didn’t listen. It…happened anyway.”
“He raped you,” Colin said in a flat tone.
“No,” I said. “It wasn’t like that. We were friends.”
Colin just looked at me.
Tears blurred his image. “We were best friends. I…loved him.”
Colin’s arm tightened around me.
“Why didn’t he stop?” I whispered. It wasn’t a rhetorical question. I’d been searching for that answer, desperate to understand, ever since it’d happened. Maybe Colin would know.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I understood why Andrew got so angry when I’d asked that. I didn’t want to hear that. It wasn’t an answer to the question. What did “I’m sorry” really mean, anyway? I’m sorry this happened to you, but I’m glad it wasn’t me. I’m sorry you’re broken, but life goes on. It wasn’t anything good or anything helpful; it was just pity. Fucking pity.
I took a deep breath. “After that, he drove me home. I just sat there. I didn’t know what to say. I should have screamed or cried or something, but I couldn’t. Why couldn’t I cry then, but I can’t stop crying now? He was my friend, but I hate him. So much. You don’t understand how much I hate him.”
“I think I do,” Colin said. He was squeezing me almost to the point where I couldn’t breathe. I doubted he even realized it, but I wanted more. There’s a certain magic to being held. No one could hurt me there.
“I heard he left town right after that. I didn’t see him again.” Not until a week ago, when he showed up at my apartment.
“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Colin asked. His voice was even, without the judging lilt I’d expected, but I didn’t want to talk about that. There was enough bitterness in the room to choke on without adding more.
I shook my head and tried to blot the tears out of my eyes. “It wasn’t really…”
“Rape? Yes. It was.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I know, but I just… It’s better if I don’t think about it like that. I know I never should have gone out with him or let him kiss me. I should have fought harder. I should have—”
“No.” I winced at his raised voice, and he lowered it. “God, is that what you think?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Christ, now I was doing it. “I just…I don’t want him to know Bailey. I know that fathers”—I practically choked on the word—“have rights and that Bailey deserves a father, but he isn’t…he’s not…” My voice broke, and I bit into my lip hard to stem the tears. I also clutched Colin’s hand a little too hard, but I couldn’t seem to let go.
“I don’t want him near Bailey.” I was babbling. “I can’t be near him, either, but it’s not just for me. He doesn’t care about her. He doesn’t even know her. What if he takes her away from me?”
“No. He’s not getting anywhere near you or Bailey.”
Colin held me while the threat of tears passed. The rhythm of our breathing synced, as if to steady us both.
The quietude was interrupted by the ringing of Colin’s cell phone. Without releasing me, he reached into his pocket.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
The faint buzz of another person speaking.
“I can’t come now,” he said.
More buzzing, slightly louder this time.
“I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up.
“If you need to go…” I said. Hell, my problems had stewed for this long. It was hardly an emergency.
“It’s fine,” he said, stroking my hair.
“There’s something else I have to tell you,” I said into his shirt. “Earlier today, some cops came by. Detectives, I mean. They were asking about you.”
His grip tightened to just this side of bruising before subsiding. “What did they say?”
They said I wasn’t safe. Bailey wasn’t safe here. “Nothing.”
“Don’t talk to them again.”