44. Matthew

Chapter 44

Matthew

I can't get Dylan's words out of my head. The way she froze when Jacob mentioned Brock's name, the way she paled, as if the blood drained right out of her body. I knew it was something more serious the minute she walked into the room—her posture tense, her smile forced. But I never thought it would be this.

Fucking Brock Johnson.

The name alone makes my fists clench involuntarily. The fact that she had to carry that around for so long, all by herself, makes me sick. She's been hurting, and we didn't even know.

I'm pacing in the living room now, trying to contain the rage that's building in my chest. Ford has his arm around Dylan, holding her close, and Jacob's sitting beside them, silent and brooding. No one says a word for what feels like forever, the weight of what she just told us hanging heavy in the air.

Brock tried to assault her. He pinned her down, tried to take what wasn't his, and then had the fucking audacity to spread rumors about her afterward, making her the pariah of her own school. I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears, my hands trembling with the urge to find him, to make him pay for what he did to her.

I force myself to stop pacing and take a breath, but it's not working.

I glance over at Dylan, tucked into Ford's arms, her eyes still red from crying. She looks so small right now, so fragile. I hate it. I hate that she had to go through that, and I hate even more that we weren't there to protect her when it happened.

"Matthew," Ford says softly, his voice cutting through the haze in my mind. "Sit down."

"I can't," I mutter, running a hand through my hair, feeling the frustration bubbling up. "I just—" I stop, not even knowing how to put the jumble of emotions I'm feeling into words. It's a mix of fury, helplessness, and this overwhelming need to do something, to fix it, even though I know I can't.

Ford's eyes lock on mine, and there's a silent understanding there. He feels it too. We all do.

"We should break his fucking legs," I finally say, my voice low but full of venom.

Dylan's head snaps up, her eyes wide. "No," she says quickly, shaking her head. "Matthew, please. I don't want you guys to do anything stupid because of me."

"Stupid?" I repeat, disbelief coating my words. "Baby, this isn't about being stupid. This is about what that asshole did to you."

"I know," she whispers, her voice trembling. "But I can't be the reason you ruin your life."

I kneel in front of her, gently taking her hand in mine. "You are not the reason for anything. Brock is the one who should lose everything, not us."

She shakes her head, pulling her hand back. "But you will. I can't let that happen."

The desperation in her voice hits me hard, and for a moment, I want to scream. I want to hit something. But I don't. Instead, I take a deep breath and try to steady myself, to be the calm one for her. Even though, deep down, I want to tear Brock apart.

"I won't do anything," I say slowly, forcing the words out, even though it kills me to make that promise. "But only because you asked me not to."

She looks at me, her eyes searching mine, and I can see the doubt. She doesn't believe me. She knows me too well.

I turn away, running my hands over my face. I don't want her to see how angry I am, how close I am to losing it. I'm supposed to be the level-headed one. I'm the one who keeps things in check, who balances out Ford's impulsiveness and Jacob's quiet intensity. But right now, I feel like I'm falling apart.

"Matthew," Dylan says softly, and I feel her hand on my shoulder, light but grounding. I look up at her, and the sadness in her eyes cuts me to my core. "I'm okay," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I survived. I made it through."

"You shouldn't have had to survive," I mutter, shaking my head. "You should have been safe."

"I know," she says, and I can hear the tears in her voice. "But I wasn't. And that's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault but his."

I nod, but the guilt is still there, gnawing at me. I wasn't there when she needed someone the most, and that's something I'll never be able to fix.

Jacob finally speaks up, his voice low and tight. "We'll make sure he doesn't get near you again. I don't care if we have to file a restraining order. He's not getting away with this, Dylan."

Dylan bites her lip, nodding. "I just… I don't want to make things worse."

"You're not," Jacob says firmly. "You're not making anything worse. He's the one who fucked up. He's the one who crossed the line. And he'll pay for that, one way or another."

I glance at Jacob, seeing the same fire in his eyes that I feel in my chest. He's always been the quiet one, the calm one, but I can tell that Brock has awakened something in him—something dangerous. And for once, I'm glad.

Ford holds Dylan close, his jaw tight with tension, his arms wrapped around her protectively. I know he wants to go after Brock just as much as I do. He's always been the one to act first, ask questions later. But right now, he's holding it together for Dylan. We all are.

"I don't want you to worry about this anymore," Ford says softly, pressing a kiss to Dylan's temple.

Her eyes well up with tears, and she nods, resting her head against Ford's chest. "I do trust you," she whispers. "I just… I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

Ford glances at me then Jacob, his expression hard. "We're not going to get hurt. But Brock sure as hell will if he comes near you again."

I clench my fists again, feeling the rage bubble back to the surface. I can't promise I won't lose it if I see Brock again. I can't promise I won't do something I'll regret. But for now, I'll keep my anger in check—for her.

I kneel in front of Dylan again, taking her hand in mine. "You're not alone anymore," I tell her, my voice steady. "We're here. And we're not going anywhere."

She squeezes my hand, and for a moment, I see a flicker of relief in her eyes. But the pain is still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

I just hope she knows that, no matter what happens, we've got her back. And no one—not Brock, not anyone—will ever hurt her again.

Ford

Dylan was exhausted after spilling her deepest, darkest secret with us and after a bathroom break, she curled up into Matthew's lap and dozed off. She was right not to tell us at the game; I would have murdered him. If I didn't know how much it would hurt Kitty, I'd be in my car, heading to Summerview at this very moment.

Jacob stands, picking up a blanket and laying it over her and Matthew. "I'm going to step outside and order some food. I don't think any of us are up for cooking, driving, or socializing at the moment." Matthew doesn't speak, just nods before kissing Dylan on the top of her head. She doesn't wake, just snuggles deeper into him.

Jacob smiles at her, then picks his phone up from the table and steps out the back door.

He's going to blow.

"Our girl is so strong, to not only endure that, but to make it through tonight. If I was in her shoes, I don't think I could," I sigh as I carefully sit beside them, not wanting to jostle and wake her.

"She's the strongest person I know, period. Man or woman," Matthew whispers.

We sit there in silence, my chest tight, as my stomach twists in knots. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs as I cradle my head in my hands, staring at my feet. I replay every word Dylan told us over in my head, waiting for her to smirk and say gotcha, that this was all some joke. But she didn't.

It's not a joke.

It's real.

Some fucker attempted to rape my girl, and she had to live with it.

"Do you think Holly knows? Surely not. Wouldn't she have wanted to press charges long ago?" I ask out loud, to no one in particular.

"I'm not sure. But I have a knot in my stomach about something I overheard and I plan to address Holly about it. But if she did and wasn't there for her, she's dead to me. I'll never respect her or approve of any relationship my father has with her."

"Dead to us!" I add. "Dylan's amazing. How she ended up with two shit parents astounds me. She deserves better, and I'm going to make sure she has it. Between Jacob and me she has parents who adore her and think the sun shines on her."

I glance over my shoulder to the back door. Jacob's still outside. It's eerily quiet and I'm afraid he's about to do something he'll regret later.

Fuck! I sit upright, pinching myself. Nope, it's real, tonight isn't a dream. Instead of celebrating our win, one we should be over the moon about, we're processing the devastation that our girl was subjected to.

"You think he's okay?" Matthew nods his head toward the back door.

"No. But neither are we." I stand slowly. Dylan's taken care of, nestled in Matthew's arms, getting the rest she deserves. My best friend in the fucking world needs me right now.

I make my way over to the door, giving one final look back at Dylan, before taking hold of the handle and opening it. Jacob's sitting on the top step, body hunched over and head slumped, his shoulders bounce up and down as I hear faint sobbing sounds.

I make my way over, lowering down on the step beside him, wrapping my arm around his shoulder. Right now, I need to be strong for him.

Jacob

"I should have been there. I could've stopped it." Each word comes out with a shaky breath, broken and ragged. I look over at Ford, knowing my eyes are glistening with tears, as my lips quiver, but I don't even care I'm showing my weakness.

"It's not your fault just as much as it isn't Dylan's. The only person to blame is Brock Johnson. We need to be strong now for Dylan and support her in how she wants to handle this," Ford says softly.

"But… but." I break into a sob mid-sentence.

"Nope, there's no buts. You're—no, we're here for her now and that's what's important. You can break down now, but then you gotta pull yourself together. We need to be strong for Dylan."

"If I had only answered the phone," I whisper. Why didn't I?

"It would have still happened. There's nothing we can do to change the past, it's what we do in the present and future that's important."

I smirk, as I huff out a laugh. "When did you become so—" I pause, looking for the right words. They're on the tip of my tongue but I can't seem to say them. I finally give up and wave my hand at him, "—this person. So put together and in tune with your emotions."

"Eh, I don't know, guess I'm evolving. The monkeys did it, why can't I?" It's all I needed to burst out laughing, a moment to let go of all the guilt I'm holding inside.

"Pickle's going to be okay, isn't she?" I ask softly.

"She is and we'll be here supporting her no matter what she decides."

"I want to kill him," I admit to myself and him for the first time.

"Join the club, but we can't. Neither one of us wants to be away from our girl, and none of us are made for prison. I mean, do you even know how to make a shiv?" he asks, his face serious.

"Maybe we should start practicing, you know, just in case. I'm barely holding it together now, but when we have to play him again." I fist my hands, knowing that day is coming once the season begins. "I don't know if I can hold it together."

"We'll deal with it when the time comes—the four of us. Now, let's order some food. When she wakes up she's going to be hungry."

I pick my phone up from where it's sitting beside me on the porch and open up the delivery app.