Page 85 of Back to Willow

“Yes,” she sighs. “But we always were careful. Even with the condom, you always pulled out.”

“You’re fucking with me,” I spit the words out. “Even with pulling out, Willow, we had sex for god knows how long in those goddamn broken condoms. We–” I pause as her words keep repeating in my brain.Because you’re not his father.He’s not mine. “You cheated, didn’t you?” Hastily, I grab her arm, pulling her closer to me so she can look me in the eyes when she answers. “Is that why you left? To run away with him?” The blood in my veins boils, travelling throughout my body like lightning.

I can feel it reddening my face and neck as they warm. When her eyes raise to my forehead and widen, I am sure it is because of that vein that always pops out when I get mad.

I am so fucking livid.

All of this time, I thought she had gone through something traumatic. The way she responded to sudden and unexpected movements or touches told me so. I never in a million years would have thought she could—

Fucking hell, we were crazy about each other! We–

“L-Liam…” she pleas. She’s shaky and frail, a stark difference from the confident voice that was speaking to me in the beginning.She’s afraid.

Letting go of her, I stand and pace around, fighting the urge to ask if I hurt her.I need to distance myself from her.All the while, I keep opening and clenching my fists repeatedly in an attempt to control myself, I ask, “Just fucking tell me!”

The words are harsher than I intended, and it’s only when a sob breaks free from her mouth that I understand the consequences of my lack of control. She tries to speak but chokes on a sob, and instead, stands up and races out of the living room.

Shit.

“Willow?” I call, going after her. “I’m sorry, I–” I pause when I walk past a door and hear her crying.

All the angry thoughts and feelings vanish from my body, being replaced with guilt. “I didn’t mean to–”Fuck.“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll keep myself in check.”

She doesn’t answer, still crying on the inside. I wait for a bit, hopefully giving her time to calm down before knocking again.

“Can you let me in?”

She’s no longer sobbing but still doesn’t answer. Here I thought that this time around we wouldn’t leave space for loose ends. When the silence stretches for too long, hope that we’ll finish this conversation leaves right through the front door.

“I’ll leave then,” I inform her.

“Wait,” she calls, rooting me in place. “It’s easier without you looking at me. Just listen to it all.” She seems to take a breath. “That night we were supposed to hang out because your parents were away, you weren’t there.”

What?

“What do you mean? I went to the grocery stores, but you never showed up. You—”

“I showed up.” Her voice rises to a high-pitched tone. “You weren’t there!” she yells. “I called you, but it was going straight to voicemail and—”

“No one was home,” I whisper, trying to make sense of her words. “It was already late. Did you go back home by yourself?”

A moment goes by before she answers in a soft cry, “Yes.”

It feels like a punch to the chest.No. It feels like being run over by a truck several times.

Whenever I thought my world couldn’t be turned upside down again, I’m proved wrong. In the end, we’re nothing. Just a silly and insignificant puppet in the hands of this cruel universe.

Still, hearing these words hurt, tearing through me. Because never—ever—not even for a moment, did I consider she might have not have been safe.

Which is ridiculous, right? My parents have money, and that area of town is wealthy, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t sickos lurking around in the darkness.No, please.

“You were…attacked?” I can’t even say the word.

She doesn’t answer, and it makes it obvious because no answer is an answer.

Urgency takes over as my protective side kicks in. I’m late, too late. But my brain is screaming at me to get inside that fucking bathroom and just hold her. Hold her close and take all the pain away. “Fuck, Lo. Let me in.”But I can’t. Can I?

“No.”

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