Chapter Twenty-Seven

Danica

Six Years Earlier

-Mid January-

S itting in the middle of Finn’s bed, knees pulled up to my chest, I hug them tighter as I pull Finn’s hoodie over my legs. My eyes burn from hours of tears, and I know I must look like a disaster. When I had received the note under my door earlier this morning, I was sure that if I just came up here, saw Theo in person, that he would be able to clear everything up. He would deny the authenticity of what was written on those pages, and the implications of what wasn’t. I just needed to see his face, just one glance from him and all my fears would be eased. A phone call wasn’t good enough.

Instead, after making the almost four hour drive up here from my school, I was slapped in the face with the brutal truth. Bradley, fucking Brad, was murdered. Most likely by the love of my life, and then the crime was covered up. It’s not as if Brad didn’t deserve what was coming. After almost two years of being verbally and mentally abusive, he finally crossed an unforgiveable line when he raped me; when he spent the next six months raping me and abusing me any chance he got, all while having his fun flings on the side. It’s a fucking wonder he didn’t give me an STD. And then he brutalized me. Put me in the hospital. Broke me down.

I have spent the last year trying to come to terms with what happened to me, to work through my trauma, to realize it wasn’t my fault. Theo finally convinced me to go to therapy when I moved to Oregon for school, when I moved across the country to get away from what happened. So, I could put the past behind me, so I could heal and move forward with my life. A life that I had planned to spend with Theo. If I am being honest with myself, I was afraid to take that final step, though. To make myself vulnerable in a new and painfully uncomfortable way by bearing my soul, my darkest thoughts and showing all my ugly and broken pieces with a stranger. But finally, I did. And because Theo convinced me to take that leap of faith, I have come to terms with the past. Or at least, I thought I had.

So yeah, Bradley had it fucking coming.

I jerk my chin up, forced out of my internal spiral as Finn plops next to me on his oversized bed. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t hold me. But he sits next to me, his shoulder resting against mine, silently staring ahead. With a sniffle, I wipe my arm on the sleeve of his hoodie. Gross, I know, but I am so fucking mentally and emotionally exhausted, and I don’t think I could force myself to get up and find a tissue even if I wanted to. Tilting my head, I lean into Finn, taking comfort in his quiet strength.

And I don’t know how long we sit there. It could be minutes; it could be hours. All I know is that, staring blankly ahead, it finally registers that time has passed; as I blink into the fading shadows, darkness of the setting sun filtering in though his cracked blackout curtains. With a swipe to my eyes, I try to rub away the aching sadness that has lodged itself inside my very soul. My eyes feel so puffy, so painfully swollen that it is hard to see clearly. Finn, to his credit, continues to say nothing, giving me the space I need while also being here .

“He lied.” I croak, my voice cracks from lack of use and the scratchiness lent from hours of crying. I don’t ask how Finn found me in the parking lot of that run-down diner in the middle of nowhere, don’t ask if he told Caleb or worse, Theo, where I was. Instead, the first words out of my mouth are the ones that I don’t even want to think in my own head. But they need to be said. Painfully, I clear my throat, and then start again. “He lied to me. For months.”

With a tilt of my head, I can see Finn’s profile as he continues to stare blankly ahead; see the grim look on his face as his lips press into a thin line, and then I hear the quiet tap tapping as he sets a quiet rhythm of fingers to his thigh. Reaching out slowly, I grab his hand, stilling the obvious sign of unease as I thread my fingers through his own. Almost imperceptibly, his hand tightens, giving me a gentle squeeze. “You did too. . . didn’t you?”

No response. But it’s answer enough.

My voice is soft, but I know he can hear me as I continue. “You all did.” Not a question. I glance up at him now, turning so that I can see him more clearly. “But Finn. Why didn’t you tell me ? Did you think that you couldn’t. . . that I would-” The words stick in my throat, and I swallow painfully. “Don’t you trust me? Why didn’t you trust me?”

“We do trust you, il mio passerotto. I trust you .” I glance up sharply, squinting against the darkness, only to find Theo, my hoodie guy, lingering in the shadows of the doorway. Even after this betrayal, through the hurt and the tears, my heart still leaps at the sight of him. Stupid worthless muscle beating in my chest. Leaning against the doorframe, hood up, leaving his face in shades of darkness, I can still see the glint of his crystal blue eyes, sharp as they assess me. And I know what he sees. Red face, skin blotchy and swollen, eyes puffy, hair a disaster, and wearing-

“You’re wearing his jacket.” Theo’s voice is soft, but I can hear the hurt in his words. Guilty. Why do I feel fucking guilty for wearing my best friend’s jacket when I needed comfort because my boyfriend is a lying liar? As he pushes off the door frame, I can see the hesitation on his face before he takes a step, slowly, as if not to startle me.

Finn just looks over at his friend, and as he goes to pull away, I squeeze harder into his hand, not wanting to let go. Afraid for him to leave, for the conversation that I know needs to happen. Gazing over at me now, the corner of his lips pulling into a small smile, Finn just pats my hand before carefully extracting it from his own. Placing a soft kiss on the side of my head, he stands before giving me one last look, face unreadable. I watch as he turns on his heel and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with the love of my life. The only man with the power to ruin me.

“Finn told you where I was.” I don’t mean for the words to sound bitter, angry. But then, maybe I am. Bitter, I mean. And angry. Hurt.

“I was worried about you. You ran off and didn’t give me a chance to explain.” Taking another several steps into the room, Theo stops at the foot of the bed, rocking back on his heels as he shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket. I can see the uncertainty written in his features, and my heart aches, longing to tell him to hold me, that it will be okay. That we are okay. But I can’t give him that. Because he lied to me. For months. And right now, I’m not okay.

“You lied to me.” Might as well just get it over with. A soft groan escapes his lips, and I can’t tell if it is from frustration or longing. Perhaps both? “You all lied to me.” And therein is the crux of the matter. It wasn’t that he killed my shitty, abusive ex. I know he did the only thing he could think of to protect me. They all did. And if the situation were reversed, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same. Because that is what you do for the person you love most in the world. You protect them even at the risk of destroying yourself in the process .

“We wanted to -”

“Don’t!” I snap. “Don’t you dare say that you did it to protect me. What you did to Brad, that was to protect me. What you did when you lied to me after the fact, when you covered it up? That was to protect you. Because when it comes down to it, you didn’t trust me. You still don’t trust me.” Tears well in my eyes once more, and I angrily swipe at my face in a futile attempt to brush them away.

“Baby, no! Don’t say that! Of course I trust you. It has nothing to do with that.” At last, he moves forward, settling on the edge of the bed that Finn just vacated, facing me. I bristle at his nearness. If he moves closer, if he touches me, I don’t know if I can trust myself right now not to fall into his arms, to give in to his overprotective bullshit and just let him be in control.