Page 28 of Resilience

“You can’t tell anyone. I mean it, Sam. Nobody.”

He’d known, but to have it confirmed was a machete straight through his chest.

The idea she’d want to let that piece of shit get away with it needed some discussion, because no fucking way. But now was not the time. The last thing she needed right now was to keep arguing.

Then he almost asked if she was okay, but what a fucking stupid question that would be. He could see that Hunter had hurt her, and he could also see that she wasn’t limping or otherwise guarding physical hurt ... anywhere else. That raping motherfucker!

Sam seethed, but he didn’t ask if she was okay. Of course she wasn’t, but she didn’t seem to need medical care, and he didn’t want to put her in the position of having to tell him she was ‘okay.’

Instead, he put his arm around her—carefully, ready to back off if she balked. She didn’t, so he drew her close and tucked her against his chest.

With his free hand, before he wrapped that arm around her as well, he signed, “I’m here.”

Sam could feel the tension in her body, but for a long moment she sat quietly. Abruptly, she turned her head to bury it against his chest, and the tension running through her like an electric charge doubled. And then she was crying. Really hard.

Athena rarely cried. She hated how small she was, she hated being mistaken for a child, and she thought crying made her look even more immature.

These tears, mostly silent despite their intensity, just about tore Sam to pieces. He closed her up more snugly and she shifted until he’d almost encompassed her. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and wrap her up completely, but he worried that she’d take that as being treated like a child. So, as his own tears filled his throat, he held her as closely as he could and gave her what comfort he had.

He was going to fucking castrate that son of a bitch.

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~oOo~

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Hours later, Sam pulled onto the driveway and parked behind Athena’s mother’s Benz. The remnants of their so-called birthday party had frayed quickly once all those hungover people started stumbling around, and he and Athena had had the cabin to themselves by shortly after noon.

The plan had been for Sunday and Monday to be about the two couples, but now there were no couples. Only two best friends, both of them battered in different ways. There was no point staying until Monday.

Once they were alone, Sam tried to get Athena to talk a few times, but she was adamant, and when he realized that his pushing compounded her turmoil, he stopped. They finished cleaning up the property and putting everything back where it belonged without talking about anything but that work.

The drive back to Tulsa was similarly conversation-free, but that was normal. It wasn’t possible to hold a complicated discussion in ASL and also keep one’s hands on the wheel and eyes on the road.

Now, however, they were home, and he wasn’t driving. He’d spent most of the day and all of the drive stewing about what Hunter had done, and his conviction had only grown deeper: Hunter had to pay. He could not hurt Athena like this and fucking get away with it.

Before Athena could start to sign anything, Sam jumped in. “I know you don’t want to talk about this—”

She kicked the dash hard and slammed her hands together. Her hands sliced through the air as she signed, “I don’t! I’ve told you and told you! You need to shut up!”

Lying between them, Blanche was calm but watchful. She didn’t like the vibe.

“Athena, listen—”

She slapped his hands away. Hers flew wildly. “No! You ‘listen’! It didn’t happen to you, so you don’t get a fucking say! It happened to me, and I told you what I want!”

“How can you expect me to know this and just sit by and do nothing? What kind of man would I be if I just shrugged and said, ‘that guy raped the—'” He actually started to sign the woman I love—which was true, and they’d exchanged ‘I love yous’ since they were kids, but he was pretty sure he would have meant something very different now. He still needed time to work through the mess in his head, and even then, even if his feelings for her had shifted, he doubted he’d ever tell her. But he caught himself and instead signed, “’the most important person in my life, but oh well. Bummer, I guess.’ How can you want that?”

“Why do you think you get to decide what happens? You pushing this makes you just another fucking asshole doing what he wants with me. Is that the kind of man you are?”

Sam let his hands drop to his lap. She was right. He was trying to force her to do what he thought was right. And worse—he was making it about himself.

“You’re right,” he signed calmly. “I’m so sorry.”

Athena glared warily at him for quite a while before she let out a long breath and nodded.

“If you don’t want to answer this, I get it, but will you tell me why?” he asked.

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