“I’m just…ready to go.” That’s a good enough answer. It has to be.
“Something happened back there. I want to know what.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, something I haven’t seen her do in days, and I realize it’s a defensive gesture. She’s trying to be tough, showing that she won’t back down.
Well, I’m not backing down either. We can’t have this conversation here. Now. “Let it go, Fable. Seriously.”
“No.” She steps forward and shoves me right in the chest with both hands. “I’m tired of pretending there’s nothing wrong. I’m sick of you blowing up and freaking out and then telling me you’re fine. I know you’re still grieving for your sister. I know you feel guilty over her death, and I get that. But there’s more going on here. Something else happened that you’re not telling me. And I really need you to tell me, Drew.”
I slowly shake my head, the air leaving my lungs all at once. “I—I can’t.”
“You have to.” She reaches out to shove me again and I grab her wrists, stopping her. “I need to know. How else can I help you get past this?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” I let go of her and turn to my bag that’s sitting on the bed but she grabs my arm, jerking me around so I’m facing her once more.
“Don’t shut me out. I’m here for you. After everything we’ve been through, after what we’ve just shared.” She sighs and closes her eyes for the briefest moment, as if she’s completely overcome. “I’ve bared my body and my soul to you, and I have never, ever done that for anyone before. So please, I’m begging you. Tell me what the hell happened!”
I stare at her, desperate to confess. Scared of her reaction. I part my lips, but the words won’t come. It’s like the world is sitting on my chest, crushing my heart and turning it to dust.
“Can I guess?” Her voice is so soft, I lean in to hear her. “I…I have my suspicions. Can I ask you questions and you answer me yes or no?”
What she suggests is the coward’s way out. And considering I’m pretty much a coward at this very moment, it’s the only way out for me.
So I nod.
Breathing deep, she takes a step back, leaning against the dresser behind her. “Whatever happened to you in your past, happened here, didn’t it? Not in the guesthouse but here, at this house. Not at school, not anywhere else, right?”
I swallow hard and nod once.
“Okay.” She presses her lips together, her eyes clouded with what looks like worry. “I think…it has to do with Adele, doesn’t it?”
I’m silent. Paralyzed. I want to say yes. I want to run. She’s so close. So close to figuring it out and then I realize she probably already has figured it out, and I’m so full of shame, I want to throw up.
“Yeah,” I say on a ragged breath, rubbing the back of my hand across my mouth. I swear I’m going to puke.
Fear is in her eyes as she looks at me. Sympathy and worry and tears I don’t want her to shed for me. “She—she molested you, didn’t she?”
I shake my head, shocked at her choice of words. “She didn’t molest me. I knew exactly what I was doing with her.”
Fable’s mouth drops open. “What?”
“We were having an affair. That’s it. No molestation, no her touching me when I was a little kid. She went after me, seduced me, I fell for her, and we had an affair for years.” I spit the last words out, so disgusted with myself I can hardly see straight. “There Fable. There’s your answer. Now that you have it, what do you think? I’m disgusting, right? Sneaking around with my stepmom, having her slip inside my room in the middle of the night. Fucking her furiously again and again. She always knew how to get me hard and I couldn’t stand how easily she had control over me.” I’m shaking, my breath is stuttering in my lungs and my teeth are chattering. I can’t fucking believe I just said all that. I told her everything. Everything.
Fable just stands there gaping at me, her eyes still flooded with tears. “How—how old were you when this first started?”
“Almost fifteen.” Horny as fuck, too. Adele knew it. She was beautiful, mysterious. She flattered me, flirted with me and I responded. She’s only eleven years older than me, she’d tell me we had more in common than she and my dad did, and then the next thing I knew, she was sneaking into my room in the middle of the night, touching me. Going down on me, making me come so hard, I thought I would black out.
I was young, full of hormones and eager to fuck. Constantly. And despite the shame and the hatred I had for myself and for her, I secretly wanted her to get me off. Sought out her attention because for a brief moment, I felt wanted, desired, loved.