Page 93 of Shattered Lives

“I see you differently because you let me see who you really are.” He smiles, trying to lighten my mood. “You’re like Bella. A beautiful warrior.”

My eyes fill with tears again, but for once, they aren’t sad tears. Tom accepts me, even with my past. He doesn’t think I’m a train wreck. And he’s comfortable with me being around Maya, even after hearing my shameful secrets.

He stands up, reaching down and tugging me to my feet, whistling for Bella. “You’re shivering. Come back inside, and I’ll tell you about my own demons.”

Tom leads me back into the living room. I sit down on the couch, removing the blanket from my shoulders and folding it neatly. Bella flops in front of the fireplace as Tom chooses a framed photo from the mantle and joins me. The picture is one I’d admired earlier.

“I grew up a little north of here, closer to the peaks. There were three of us kids. You’ve heard me talk about my older sister, Tracy, and her four kids. I was the middle child. And I had a baby sister named Dana.”

Had. Past tense. A sudden sadness fills my chest.

“Dana and I were close growing up. Tracy’s five years older, so there was enough of a gap that I was her annoying little brother. Dana and I were only a couple of years apart, and we were inseparable. She was my baby sister, and I was her protector, from the playground up through high school. Nobody messed with Dana because they knew they’d have to answer to me.

“When I left for college in New York, Dana took it hard. She was a junior when I left, but I flew home for long weekends and school breaks every chance I got. My mom took this picture of us during spring break her senior year.” He hands the picture to me.

A beautiful girl laughs, leaning against a much younger Tom who’s also laughing. Both are deeply tanned and fit, sitting with their legs submerged in a crystal blue swimming pool. Her long brown hair spills over her shoulders to her bright orange bikini top, and Tom is shirtless, wearing blue swim trunks. They look happy and carefree. Dana has Tom's mischievous smile and twinkling eyes. “She’s beautiful,” I say softly.

“Three days before her prom, I flew her out to New York for the royal treatment – manicure, pedicure, facial, cut and color, spa time. I wanted her to feel like a princess. I took her to some of my favorite spots. We had a great time.” His smile fades as he looks down.

“Dana had started seeing a guy I didn’t know. He was new to the area. I’d heard from friends that he wasn’t the nice guy she thought he was. Before she flew home, I told her to be careful, but she laughed and said she was fine, that I needed to relax.”

He stops talking. I know where this is going, and without a second thought, I lay my hand on his forearm.

“He raped her the night of the prom. Drugged her and raped her. He was rough. Hurt her pretty badly. She went to the police, but even with the drugs in her system, he said it was consensual, and with no witnesses, it was he-said, she-said. He’d taken pictures of her and passed them around. My dad called.” He pauses again. “I flew home, found the guy. I mouthed off enough to get him to throw the first punch, then broke his jaw and some facial bones and left him unconscious. I called the police myself. The officer that came knew what had happened to Dana, so when witnesses said the other guy threw the first punch, he called it self-defense. The guy spent eight weeks with his jaw wired shut, eating through a straw. But it wasn’t enough.”

He drops his head, elbows on his knees as he stares, tangled in tragic memories. “Dana never recovered,” he says finally. “I called her every day, but she became a shadow of the girl she’d been. She withdrew from everyone, quit hanging out with her friends, stopped talking to my parents. I had classes over the summer, but I had a two-week break coming up, and I kept telling myself that when I got home, I could get through to her. I could help her.”

He sits silently for a full minute. I know what he’s going to say, and it breaks my heart for both of them – for the girl who couldn’t bear the pain, and for the older brother who blames himself for something that wasn’t his fault.

His voice breaks. “She killed herself. Left a letter, went into the woods, and shot herself. I wasn’t there to protect her, and I wasn’t there to help her pick up the pieces.”

Tom’s jaw is tight, his eyes bright with tears. Without hesitating, I pull him into a hug. He grips me tightly, but it doesn’t frighten me. I rub his back, offering the only consolation I can.

After several minutes, I lean back slightly. He releases me immediately, thinking the contact has been too much for me, but I shake my head and hold his gaze. Tom is consumed with undeserved guilt. I place my hands on either side of his face, rubbing my palms through the soft stubble of his short beard.

“It wasn’t your fault.” A wall comes down behind his eyes as he automatically dismisses my words, and I give his head a tiny shake. “Listen to me. You aren’t to blame. The bastard that hurt her is. Even if you’d been here, she’d have gone to the prom with him. You couldn’t be with her every moment. He was a coward. Cowards lie in wait, too afraid to strike when there’s risk to themselves. Even if you’d been here afterwards, Dana is the only one who could have decided if she wanted to keep fighting. For some people, the pain is unbearable.”

“I could have helped her,” he insists. “I could have carried some of the load.”

“Not if she wasn’t willing to share it. Some pain is just too heavy to share.”

He closes his eyes, his expression anguished. “I let her down. She needed me, and I wasn’t there. And I miss her. God, I miss her.” His breathing picks up speed. He’s on the verge of breaking down, but he’s fighting it.

I remove my hands from his face and pull him close again, hugging him tightly, not the least bit afraid. He buries his face in my neck. I run my fingers through his soft hair, stroking his head like a child. After a long time, his shoulders relax as he regains control of his emotions. When he finally raises his head, I gently press a kiss to his cheek.

Tom catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “What was that for?”

“To remind you that you’re not alone.”

“Thank you,” he says. He lightly kisses my forehead and moves back, studying my face in the lamplight before speaking.

“Dana would have been thirty-two now. Maybe married, maybe with a couple of little ones. She never got the chance to heal. She hurt too badly to try. You’re trying. You're opening up, even though it terrifies you.” His eyes linger on my face. “You remind me of her in a lot of ways. Maybe that’s why I’m so protective of you.” He frowns. “Especially with some of these dates Lila’s sent you on.”

“I had drinks with Blake last Friday.”

He nods. “I heard.”

“I’m having dinner with him and his nieces again tomorrow.”

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