That man touched me. Said creepy things to me. He might have been harmless, but I’d been instantly assailed by fear. Yet again I put myself into a situation I found difficult to get out of, and I can’t expect Ethan to rescue me every single time.
I chance a look at him, see the way he’s gripping the steering wheel as he drives, his jaw like granite, his usually lush mouth drawn into a thin line. He looks mad. I hope he’s not mad at me.
An irrational thought, I know, but I can’t help it.
“I feel terrible, Katie,” he finally says. We’ve been silent most of the drive, making unnecessary small talk until finally I pretended to doze so I wouldn’t have to talk anymore. It’s not that I’m mad at him or blame him for what happened. I just don’t know how to react. How to behave.
Everything’s a big, jumbled mess and I feel like it’s my fault.
“Why?” I ask, my voice small.
“I should’ve never left you alone, not even for a minute.” His tone is grim, as is the set of his mouth. “That jerk pounced only because he thought you were by yourself.”
“I have to deal with the occasional jerk pouncing, Ethan,” I tell him. “It’s a part of life.”
“I put you into that situation.” He sounds tortured.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I brought you to the club. I left you alone.”
“I told you I would be all right,” I counter.
“But you weren’t,” he says, pointing out the obvious.
“I could’ve handled it,” I say, hating the uncertainty in my voice. Could I have handled it? I don’t know.
And I hate that. The doubt. It hangs over my head constantly.
“You really think so?” He sends me a look, full of skepticism.
My blood starts to boil. Now I’m mad. He has no faith in me. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, considering I have no faith in myself. “You can’t run in and be my hero every time, Ethan. I don’t always need to be rescued.”
“Could have fooled me,” he mutters.
Anger has me nearly sputtering. I clamp my lips shut and cross my arms in front of my chest, my mind a constant whirl as we remain silent for the rest of the drive. If he thinks I’m inviting him in after that particular discussion, he has another thing coming. I’m too angry, too upset at his doubt, at my own doubt.
As we draw closer to my house, I think of my therapy sessions with Sheila. How she believes I want a hero in my life. Is that true? Am I drawn to Ethan because he shares those same hero-type qualities with Will? Guilt engulfs me and I press the back of my head against my seat, closing my eyes. That’s not fair, comparing them. Feeling guilty over my feelings for Ethan. My lingering feelings for Will. Those lingering feelings mean nothing; they’re only based on old memories I should store away for good. I reach for my bracelet, then remember that I broke it, and disappointment crashes over me.
I think I’ve bitten off way more than I can chew.
The moment Ethan pulls his car in front of my house he turns it off, the warm engine ticking in the otherwise quiet of the night. I feel him watching me and I open my eyes to find his penetrating gaze seeming to see right through me. “You never did tell me what happened to you. In your past.”
I gawk at him. He’s going to bring this up now? Really? Well, maybe the truth will set us both free.
“You didn’t look me up?”
Ethan slowly shakes his head.
I’d half hoped he would, just so I wouldn’t have to say anything. But then again, with me in control of the information, I don’t have to tell him everything. He may search for more info later, but at least for this first conversation, I am in control. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I decide to be done with it. “When I was younger, I was—I was raped.”
The word falls into the air, settling between the two of us, and I press my lips together, thankful I just said it, that it’s out there. I wait for the repercussions, wait for him to say what everyone thinks are all the right things, but he says nothing.
Nothing at all.
He turns away from me, his jaw still tight, his hands resting loosely once more on the steering wheel. I decide to forge on.
“I was almost thirteen. It happened at the amusement park, where we met. That’s where he—he took me.” He turns then, his gaze on mine once more, and we just watch each other. “It was—it was awful, what he did.”
Pain flashes across his face and he releases the steering wheel, almost as if he wants to reach across the car and touch me. I lean back into my seat, not wanting to feel him, not wanting anything from him as I continue to talk.
“But I’m okay now. Mostly. I’m trying. To deal, to move forward. It’s been a long time, but it’s not an easy thing to get over.”
“I-I’m sure it’s not.” His voice is a croak, his gaze dark. “Katie, I—”
I hold up my hand, silencing him. “Don’t say anything. Don’t tell me you’re sorry, don’t think you need to offer me comfort or anything like that. It happened. There’s nothing we can do to change it. It’s in the past and I’m trying to focus on the future.”