Page 65 of Tough Love

Jess’ question snaps me out my reverie, and I slouch into the sofa further, edging toward Evan in the process. “Why not.”

I roll my head on the back of the seat and take in the stoic man beside me. He stares down at his hands, fidgeting with a titanium ring on his middle finger. His brow is drawn, and he grinds his jaw left to right.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask again, unsure if I should be airing things after all.

He shrugs, extending a hand to my ankle. His thumb rubs soft circles as he answers. “I’m just worried about how hard it is for you to rehash the past.”

I love him a little more in that moment. “It’s the past. I can’t change it, and there’s no need to let it own my future.”

“I guess.”

Jess returns with the bottle and three short glasses. “I don’t think there’s anything more manly for you to drink,” she says to Evan, setting them down amongst the sweets and uncapping the bottle. “So I hope you don’t mind being one of the girls.”

“If it’s wet, I like it.”

Her eyes go as wide as saucers as she stares at him in shock, the bottle frozen over the first glass. I stifle a laugh, snorting as it dawns on him what the innuendo of that sentence could be.

“You girls have dirty fucking minds.”

Don’t you know it.

“Evan likes it wet. Noted.” I giggle as he reaches across and shunts me on the shoulder playfully.

“You would know.”

“What?” Jess frowns, handing Evan his drink.

“Nothing,” we say together.

“So, anyway,” I stall, trying to draw the focus back to anything but what went down the other night. “I guess I’ll crack on and get this over and done with so we can get toasted on wine and sugar, huh?” I take my glass from Jess and waste no time having the first taste.

“Sounds like a plan.” Half of Evan’s glass disappears in one gulp.

“Where were we at?” I ask.

Jess folds herself onto the armchair and twists her lips to the side. “You said about how he would give you a ride home all the time, and that he started playing mind games.”

“Yeah. So, that carried on for a while until one day he didn’t take me home. He took me to his house. Said he had something to help me relax.”

“And you were happy to go along with it?” Evan frowns.

We’ve never discussed the details of how it started before. Tristan started preying on me before Evan and I hooked up. It was what it was, something we never acknowledged until much later. He didn’t even know what the sick fuck was doing to his girlfriend for the first six months.

I shake my head. “No way. I tried walking out the gate, hell-bent on going home instead, but he slapped me in the side of the head and picked me up, dragged me back in his house.”

“What did you do?” Jess asks. “Like, did you try to get away again? Call anyone?”

“My shitty prepaid phone was in my school bag—which he threw next to his car on the way past—and I didn’t see the point in trying to fight someone who was clearly stronger than me and angry.” I look to Evan, suddenly embarrassed to say it out loud. Even after all these years I can’t shake the feeling that what Tristandid makes me so … filthy. “He … that was the first day he forced … stuff on me.”

The silence is palpable. I guzzle two-thirds of my wine, searching for the Dutch courage to carry on.

“It went on for at least a year after that.”

“I never understood why you didn’t report him,” Evan states quietly.

His seemingly calm demeanour scares the shit out of me. “Because he told me he’d kill my sister if I did.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Evan snaps.

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