Page 31 of The Right Kind of Wrong

CHAPTER 11

Evelyn

“Here,” Nana said, handing me a cup of tea. I'd changed into a set of pajamas she had for me, unable to stop my hands from trembling and yet to still my crazy heart. I felt dirty, used. I closed my eyes, taking a sip of the hot liquid. I'd yet to explain to her what happened, but it didn't take much guessing, not when the dress was all wrinkled and the top part was torn.

Carter looked down at his phone that rang for the thousandth time. “If you need to get back, you should,” I said to him quietly. He'd done enough for me.

“It's Nathan.”

“You should pick up,” Nana said, a silent understanding passing between both of them.

I leaned on Nana's shoulder, closing my eyes and listening to the conversation that Carter had with Nathan. By the times that Carter kept repeating for him to calm down, it was obvious Nathan was exasperated.

“She's with us,” Carter said once again, giving me a small smile. “I see.” He stood up with a hardened look on his face. “No, she's fine…I will. Let me know if anything happens.”

I saw the way Carter paced back and forth, looking as if he wanted to punch something. I'd grown up with him, seen his playful side, the caring aspect of his, but never had I see him so furious.

“We can go to the police if you want, Evelyn,” he finally said, kneeling in front of me. “You say the word and we'll call the cops, do something.”

“No,” I said. “Just…can I sleep? I don't want to talk about it anymore.”

Carter didn't look too happy about my words, but nodded, deciding to give me the space I needed. I curled up on the sofa, laying my head on Nana's lap and closing my eyes, feeling her hands run through my hair. I let the tears I'd been holding back escape silently, wishing the feel of his dirty hands off of me.

Neither of them said a word, simply letting me cry it out.

Perhaps it was my fault for not listening to other peoples’ warning, but I was pretty sure Josh knew the meaning of the words “stop” and “no.” He didn't rape me and still, I felt like I'd been taken advantage of, like what I felt didn't matter.

In that moment for the first time in a long time, I desperately wanted my mom to be with me.

***

About half an hour went by before there was a strong knock on the door. Carter stood up, opening the door immediately. Nathan barged in, hair disheveled and a bleeding lip.

“Where is she?” he asked, his eyes crazily searching for me.

I stood up, taking in his messed-up appearance. His tie was loose around his neck, his knuckles were bloodied, and he was carrying my purse in his hands.

“You left this in that fucker's car,” he hissed, throwing it on the sofa. Nathan ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath while he slammed the door closed behind him. Fists clenching and unclenching, he paced around the living room, searching for some self-control.

“You left Hannah's gathering,” Nana stated calmly.

With his gaze still fixed on me, I walked past Carter and my grandma, into the kitchen, searching for ice and wetting a cloth.

It didn't take a genius to realize he'd gotten into a fight with Josh and that if things were miserable before with my sister, now they would be worse.

All because of me.

After preparing the items to help clean Nathan off, I walked back to the living room where Carter and Nathan quieted down, everyone's eyes still fixed on me. Nathan still stood at the door, a frown etched on his face. I stood in front of him, tentatively bringing the cloth up to his lip. No one said a word as I cleaned the blood that had started to dry on his skin.

“Is this okay?” I asked nervously, holding the ice pack against his lip.

Nathan seemed speechless for a moment, his eyes dark on me. He cleared his throat, “Yes.”

“Here,” I whispered. “Hold this to your lip. I'll clean off your knuckles.”

Vaguely, I heard Nana and Carter speaking in hushed tones, then their footsteps as they walked away. He didn't wince a single time while I cleaned him off, nor did he ask any questions. What he did do, however, was tilt my chin up so that my eyes met his.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw in him in that moment. Remorse. Hate. So much confusion.

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