Page 25 of Lonely Heart

“There’s nothing to say. I’m just trying to move on.”

She nodded. “I understand that, but if you’re having a hard time, you’ve got to talk to someone about it.”

This was exhausting.

I might not have experienced any nightmares last night, but I felt like I hadn’t slept in days. This whole experience had wiped me out.

“Ava, I don’t want to talk about it,” I insisted, my tone pleading with her. “I feel like I’ve done nothing but talk about this for two days now. There really is nothing left to say. I told my family and the police. They’re out there looking for this guy, so it’s out of my hands now. I just need to move on with my life.”

“I know that. And I’m genuinely happy to know that’s what you want, but I’m worried about you. Everything you’re doing just seems very strange.”

I sighed, my shoulders sagging with disappointment. “I think it’s strange that the people closest to me wouldn’t want to see me doing things to stay busy, that you’d want me to be wallowing in self-pity instead.”

“Nobody wants that for you,” she argued.

I cocked a brow. “You’re making it seem like I’m crazy when the reality is that I’ve been doing random things I’ve never done before, almost weekly, for the last year.”

Sadness washed over her. “I know you, Ivy. I know you, and this isn’t you. I wish you would talk to me, tell me how you’re really feeling, and let me help you. Tate told me this guy ripped your clothes and tried to force himself on you.” I winced at the recollection. “You fought back, and I’m so grateful you were able to get away before he did anything worse. But the terror you must have felt that night, I can’t even begin to imagine. And?—”

“Then stop trying,” I demanded, mostly because I didn’t want the pity party. I didn’t want the sorrowful looks, and I certainly didn’t want to have to replay the incident in my head over and over, if I could help it. “Stop trying to imagine it. Nobody wants to imagine something like that. I experienced it, and I want to forget it happened.”

“But ignoring your real feelings doesn’t make this better for you.”

It was easier to ignore my real feelings. My real feelings left me feeling stuck, unable to do anything. My real feelings had me paralyzed and paranoid. My real feelings were the reason I wound up in that situation to begin with.

This was no longer about feelings. This was about doing what was smart, what made sense.

“Okay. Fine. You want to know what my real feelings about it are?” I asked her.

“Of course. I want to help you.”

“I hate that everyone is looking at me like I’m weak, like I’m going to break at any moment,” I started. “I hate that everyone seems to think I should be sitting at home instead of going to work and doing something that feels meaningful. I hate that the only person of all who know about what happened who seems capable of treating me like normal is Marco.”

Ava jerked back in her seat. “Marco?”

I dipped my chin. “Marco.” She held my stare, something tense and uncomfortable mounting between us. “The craziest part about it is that if anyone should be feeling unsettled by any of this, it’s him.”

My best friend’s voice was soft, barely a hint above a whisper. “I don’t understand.”

“He was there,” I told her. “That night, when I was still feeling such terror about it, Marco was there. I got away from that guy, raced back to the hotel, and went to the suite I knew no guests would be in. And moments later, Marco walked in, because he was there to do a repair. He saw me at the very definition of the worst of it. He witnessed my panic, discomfort, and fear. If anyone has a reason to feel concerned about me, it’s him. He saw it all firsthand.”

I inhaled deeply, attempting to settle myself, but my clenched jaw and taut muscles indicated it might not have worked the way I’d hoped.

“You can’t honestly tell me he wasn’t worried about you, that he isn’t still concerned,” Ava said.

“Of course, he was worried,” I confirmed. “He walked into that room and saw me in a state of panic. I had tears leaking from my eyes, marks on my face, and torn clothing hanging from my body. He took care of me that night, but he didn’t do it bysimply listening to the story of what happened, cleaning up my cuts, loaning me a shirt, and holding me when I felt uneasy. He bought me dinner and joked with me. He sat beside me and watched television with me. He treated me likenormal. And when I saw him working in one of the villas this morning, he didn’t dwell on what I’d been through. Sure, he asked how I was doing, but once I insisted that I was okay, Marco moved on from it. We had a normal conversation and laughed with each other. I don’t understand why everyone else can’t do the same for me.”

“We’re worried.”

“And I love you for it. But that’s not an excuse for anyone to make me feel like I can’t get my life back to normal. I can’t follow someone else’s plans for what it means to be okay. I need to do what’s best for me.”

She hesitated for a moment, her expression softening. “You’re right, Ivy. I’m sorry. You need to do whatever feels right for you, and if that’s knitting, coloring, working, or rearranging your place, then that’s what you should do. I’ll do whatever I can to support you, to be the friend I’ve always been to you. And if it changes, if there’s something else you need, I’ll be here for that, too.”

I let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you, Ava. I really just want to get back to normal, and a big part of that for me involves focusing on things that make me happy. Like the news we got from Cooper and Skye yesterday.”

Ava immediately perked up, her face brightening at the mention of Cooper and Skye. “I can’t believe they’re having a baby!”

This was precisely what I needed. Normal conversation with my best friend that didn’t involve fixating on something that neither of us could change and would only cause me stress.

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