Page 142 of Brazen Mistakes

The memory settles into the space I’d hidden from, and I huff out a sad little laugh. “Or more accurately, he said that he loved me despite my flaws. Asshole. Worse, after that day, he started telling me which of my friends were bad influences, which people in my life brought out my ‘vulgar’ tendencies. And I let those friends drift. I lost them all, everyone exceptEmma. I should have seen it. He’d shown me exactly who he was, but because I thought I deserved it, because I thought he loved me, because it was a one-time thing, and I never said no, well, if I was unhappy with the result of that, wasn’t that my fault too? If I hadn’t wanted that, wouldn’t I have fought? Wouldn’t I have said no?”

Keeping my eyes closed, I plow forward. “I know that’s a dumb thought. I know that, logically. But I don’t feel it. I don’t want to feel anything about it. I want to keep pretending it never happened. But Chicago, I guess it shook the memory loose, that and a bunch of other memories that I just, I don’t want. They can’t be mine. I can’t have been the girl in those situations. She must be someone else. Otherwise, what does that say about me?”

Yanking out my hair tie, I let my hair down, another layer between me and my words. “Before, when Bryce was in jail, it didn’t matter. That girl didn’t have to be me. Not anymore. Not ever. She was locked up with him, unable to get to me. But now Bryce is here, and that broken girl, she followed him. And I have to look at her and admit that she and I are the same person. And I just wish we weren’t. So badly. Because I’m not her. I can’t be. She and I want different things, see the world differently. She trusted much too easily, and it hurt us both.”

I want to curl up into a ball; I want to disappear. I want to suck all my words back inside where they can’t haunt me, where they’re my secret pain that no one ever has to see. My mistake that I never have to own up to.

Instead, I force myself to spin, sitting on the coffee table facing the couch before I open my eyes. Walker’s eyes are glassy, his lips spread thin like he’s locked his mouth shut forfear of saying the wrong thing. RJ’s fists clench and unclench, his breath coming faster than normal.

But it’s Jansen and Trips that startle me, not knowing they were here at all. Jansen’s perched on the back of the couch, one leg held tight to his chest, the other one resting on the arm of the couch. He swallows as I look at him, inexplicable guilt written across his face. And Trips, as always, waits half out of the room, arms crossed, his face nearly purple.

“I decided a while ago that I’m not going to apologize for shit that isn’t my fault. I thought that if I just became stronger, tougher, less of a stupid, brainwashed girl, then maybe I wouldn’t be her anymore. But I fucked it up. Which means, even though I don’t want to, I need to apologize. I’m sorry I’ve worried all of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you what was going on, because then I had to admit to myself that I really am broken. And I don’t want to be broken. Not anymore. But I don’t know how to fix myself. And every damn day, something happens that reminds me exactly how broken and fucked up I really am. How much pain follows me, no matter what I do. I don’t want to hurt you guys. I don’t want to worry you guys. But I don’t think I know how to, I don’t know, not be broken.”

Trips opens his mouth, but then closes it, shaking his head. “I…I think I need to go upstairs. Thanks. For sharing.” We stare after him until the door to his room clicks shut, a muffled roar drifting down the stairs.

“I think I broke him, too,” I mutter, and Jansen lets out a sad little chuckle.

“Nah, he’s been broken longer than the rest of us. Don’t take that blame, beautiful. It’s not yours.”

RJ stands up too, but he ends up pacing on one side of the room. “Before, at the beginning, we asked you, we asked you if he’d ever—” he stammers, anger coloring every halting word.

“He hadn’t. I let him.”

“He coerced you, Clara.”

“Yeah. He did. But do the cops care? Would the med school have cared? He says I didn’t say no, I didn’t fight, he says he thought I was in on the game, and who’s going to contradict him? It’s too gray, and too hard to share with a bunch of guys I’d only just started to get to know. And honestly, too hard to admit to myself.”

Walker reaches across, needing some touch, and I let the warmth of his grip defrost some of my fear. “You said there were other memories? You don’t have to share, not at all, just—Clara, how bad?”

Staring at the ceiling is easier than eye contact right now. “That was probably the worst. Maybe. It’s not like I’ve ranked them. But it’s one that keeps showing up in my dreams. Or nightmares, I guess.”

RJ pauses his pacing. “Are they closer to the gun thing, or closer to this?” I see the other two tense, but he clarifies after a glance to me to see if it’s okay. “He chewed her out, then described how it feels to shoot a deer and watch it die.”

“Shit, Clara,” Walker says, moving to sit beside me on the coffee table. I lean into him.

I shrug. “That was probably the most physical he ever got, but after that, well, he said once he’d trained me well, and I guess he had. He didn’t have to police me when I was busytrying to be perfect for him, so he’d be sweet to me. How fucked up is that? Trained, like a fucking dog.”

Another yell comes from upstairs, followed by the barely audible smack of fists against leather. RJ’s fists clench before he forces them open, running his hand over the back of his neck. “I might have to go join him.”

A wave of exhaustion hits me, too many emotions in too quick succession, forcing my body to request a reset. “If you need to, go. I think I’m going to rest.”

He paces a few more times before squatting down in front of me. “Is there more? Bigger? I don’t need a story, I just, I’ll worry there’s more, worse, unless I know one way or the other.”

“You’ve gotten to hear the full range of purely psychological to purely physical. The rest fall in the middle, I guess. Don’t worry. Those memories, they only feel like they’re mine when I’m asleep. And even then…” I shrug again, not knowing how else to communicate that he doesn’t need to carry my mistakes when he already carries so many other people’s mistakes on his shoulders.

He presses his forehead to mine, saying nothing. Then, with a groan of frustration, he pushes to his feet and up the stairs, his knock sounding moments later.

Walker and Jansen stay, Jansen silent on the back of the couch, looking at the wall, the chairs, the black TV, anything except me. Standing makes me woozy, but I still make it to the kitchen before looking over my shoulder for Jansen, who doesn’t follow.

Walker’s brows crease, looking between the two of us. There’s a heavy sorrow as he looks at me before tilting his head toward Jansen, a question on his face. I nod.

He clears his throat. “I’ll clean up the food. Jansen, maybe you could go with Clara? I don’t think she wants to be alone right now.”

Alone, I’ll just cry more. But pressed between warm bodies that care, that’s infinitely safer than being alone with my thoughts.

Chapter 50

Clara

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