Hate To Love You

“Yeah, but if it were me, I wouldn’t want anyone to know. Not until I chose to tell them.”

He was quiet for another moment. Then, so damned softly that the kindness I heard from him dislodged more tears, he said, “Then you have to go to her. I’m guessing she hasn’t said anything.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” I had to go. I didn’t want to. My fingers had formed knots around my pants. They didn’t want to let go either.

“Look, do you want to talk to Linde about it?”

I should, but I heard myself saying, “No.” Linde was easy. He was a surface friend. Things were good with him. Things weren’t with Shay, but he was someone I’d already gone deep with. That made sense. That was why I called him and not Linde.

I had to go.

“I’m going to go talk to her.”

“You want me to come, just be there for you?”

I barked out a quiet laugh. “That’d be weird.”

“I know, but you seem like you could use some support.”

I could have him come. I could tell Kristina. I could put this on either of their shoulders, but that wasn’t the right thing to do. His presence would put the whole dorm in upheaval. If he visited any girl there, everyone would know. If I told Kristina, I’d be breaking Casey’s confidence, even though she hadn’t chosen to give it to me.

Both were easy-outs, and I couldn’t indulge in either.

“I’m going to hang up and go talk to her.”

“Okay. I’ll have my phone on all night. Call if you need anything.”

That felt nice, but I frowned. “I still hate you.”

He laughed. “I know. I hate you, too.”

We hated each other again. Everything was right again.





Kristina was in their room, but Casey wasn’t. Their door was open, but I still knocked, rapping my knuckles against the wood. “Hey, uh, where’s your roommate?”

She was sitting in a similar position I just stood from, and putting her feet back on the floor, she motioned for me to come inside. “You can shut the door. I think they’re downstairs baking.” She laughed under her breath. “Sarah wanted to send cookies to some guy—” Cookies again! “—and they decided it was the greatest idea in the world. The last plan I heard was that they were going to do a bunch of cookies, put them on plates, and give them away as gifts.”

I joked, “Linde might like to be their friend.”

God.

Worst timing ever.

I was horrible at this stuff.

I lingered in the doorway. I didn’t come inside, and I hadn’t closed the door.

Her slight grin lessened. “Haven’t seen you all week.”

“Yeah.” I lifted up a shoulder, holding it because that was the most awkward thing to do, right? I had to remember to let it drop. “Just been busy with stuff.” A girl came up through the back door, and I could hear laughter coming from in there. I looked over, thinking it may have been Casey.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” My attention went back to Kristina, but she had returned to her book. Her highlighter was in the air. “Anything happen with you guys this week? You okay? Casey . . .” I looked back to that door to the stairway.

“Yeah. Why?” She ran the neon yellow marker over some words.

“No reason.” I edged back. I got my answer. “I’ll—uh—I’ll talk to you later?”

“Sure.” I heard her response but was heading for the door. “Wait. What—” That came as I opened the door.

Heading down the last two sets of stairs to the kitchen in the basement, I could hear them laughing down there.

Sarah was saying something.

Laura shrieked.

I waited, but no Casey. I pushed open the door and rounded the corner. Aromas of baked cookies filled my nostrils. I could identify the chocolate chip right away.

Casey was sitting on the counter, fiddling with a fork.

Laura was mixing the dough. Sarah was rolling the dough into a large spoon and putting them on the pan. The two were talking to each other, but not Casey. She seemed zoned out.

“Hey!” Laura noticed me. She held up a different mixer covered in dough. “Want some? We’ll get you your own spoon.”

Sarah turned my way, too, but not Casey. She continued looking down, still holding that fork.

I gestured to her. “Actually, Casey.”

She looked.

“Could I talk to you for a second?”

“Me?”

Even Sarah and Laura were surprised, sharing a look.

I nodded, feeling my neck and legs still filled with lead. “Yeah.” Holy shit, I didn’t want to do this. My insides were screaming for me to turn around, but there was something in the middle of my chest not letting me. If I did, I’d regret it. I didn’t know why, or when, but I knew I would. Alarms, and gut instincts. This was the year I was listening to mine.

I motioned for the hallway. “Maybe in the chapel or something?” That’d be empty, for certain.

All three exchanged looks, but Casey shrugged and jumped off the counter. “Sure.” She followed me inside.

I stopped, surprised by how quaint and cozy it was. There was red carpet, a small altar, two sitting chairs, and a wood counter with a Bible on top. It was also creepy. I sat on one of the chairs, folding my knees against my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

Casey frowned, sitting on the bottom step of the altar. She threaded her hands together, letting them fall onto her lap. Her legs stretched out before her. “What’s up?”

Um. I heard you were raped. Were you?

Was that a decent start for this conversation? No. That didn’t seem right. “Uh . . .” Kristina was going for social work. She was nice and sensitive. I should’ve dropped this on her lap to deal with. It was too late for that. “Okay. This is—weird for me, but I have a brother who goes here. I don’t know if you knew that.”

Her eyebrows smoothed out, arching slightly. “No. I didn’t know that. Wait.” They pulled back together. “Not Gage Clarke?”

Fuck. She knew my last name. I nodded. “Yeah. Gage.”

“We partied with him Sunday night. I had no idea he was your brother, but”—her eyes narrowed and she nodded to herself—“yeah, I can totally see it now. You guys look just like each other.”

And speaking of Sunday . . .

I coughed. A lot of phlegm was in my throat. “Um, okay.” I put my legs down, rubbing my palms over them. They were suddenly sweaty. “What do you remember from that night?” Wait. Did she not even know herself? Was I going to be the one to tell her?

Maybe I shouldn’t do it then. If that were the case, maybe I should make a pathetic excuse and talk more to Gage, get more facts before I said anything. Yeah. That felt more right. I was more comfortable with that.

Then she murmured, her eyes flooding with tears, “You know, don’t you.”

My throat stopped working. That hadn’t been a question.

Her head hung down, and her hands reached for the bottom of her shirt. She balled it into her fists. “I can’t believe you know.”

My voice was just as soft as hers. “So, it’s true.”

Her head lifted, just a little bit. “Yeah.”

She was raped. Gage told me, but a part of me hoped it wasn’t true.