Page 30 of Taming Bull

“While Amber was away at college, she… she had a run-in with some asshole. She reported it, but he was a privileged little fuck, and nobody believed her.”

“What kind of run-in?”

I knew I was being evasive, but there were some details I couldn’t even admit to myself. Still, this was my chance to get it all off my chest, and I needed to be transparent. “She was raped.”

He sucked in a breath. “I see. You said nobody believed her. What about you? You believed her, right?”

I felt the familiar stab in my chest when I thought about Amber. I had so many questions about her rape, but answers would forever be out of my reach. “She didn’t tell me,” I admitted.

Tavonte’s eyes widened with shock.

It was an appropriate response. Sure, I wasn’t much of a talker, but I was a damn good listener. She should have trusted me with the truth. I’d spent so many nights lying awake and wondering what had happened. Was she at a party? Was she drinking? Did she feel guilty? Was she afraid she’d led him on? She could have been honest with me and I wouldn’t have given a single fuck about the circumstances. I sure as hell wouldn’t have blamed her. I would have wanted to kill the fucker, but I also would have reassured her. I would have fought for her. I would have made calls and jumped through hoops. I would have found that piece of shit and no amount of his daddy’s dollars could have kept me from nailing his balls to the wall. I would have found a way to protect her from whatever hell he’d put her through.

But in the end, she didn’t tell me.

He’d taken her virginity and she’d taken her life, both of which were promised to me, and I was left with nothing. Not even an explanation.

“She didn’t tell you?” Tavonte asked, drawing me out of my painful memories. “Why not? How’d you find out?”

“She… She committed suicide, Tay. I found out after she was dead.”

His jaw dropped.

Pain stabbed at me. Years had passed, and the hurt had dulled, but the fact she hadn’t trusted me to love her through everything still fucking burned. What kind of man doesn’t protect his woman?

Me.

I hadn’t.

And she hadn’t trusted me to.

“Fuck,” Tavonte finally muttered.

The expression seemed woefully inadequate, but English didn’t offer a better alternative. “Yeah. Fuck.”

“I’m sorry, man. I just…” He ran a hand over his head. “Holy shit.”

Tavonte looked like he needed a minute. I could relate. It had been years, and I still couldn’t process what had happened. Giving him time, I drained my beer, and then went in search of another. We’d need it. Hell, there probably wasn’t enough beer in Seattle to help me get through the rest of the story. Still, there was something therapeutic about laying it all out there like this. I was surprised to find that the edge had blunted. The past wasn’t cutting me as deeply anymore.

By the time I returned with our drinks, Tavonte had gotten his expression under control. Shock and awe had been replaced with a steely determination to understand my plight. “I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through. Is this why you won’t give Lily a chance? You’re afraid of something like this happening again?”

If only it was that simple. I plopped his beer on the coffee table in front of him and sat with mine in hand. “No. You ready for the rest of the story?”

His eyebrows drew together. “There’s more?”

“Yep. You can tap out now if you need to.”

Looking like he wanted to, he exchanged his empty bottle for the full one and took a long pull. Squaring his shoulders like he was climbing back into the ring after having his bell rung, he said, “Okay. I’m ready. Bring it.”

“The night Havoc met Lily, she was…” Anger gripped me, squeezing my tongue and making it difficult to speak. I swallowed past it and tried again. “She was being attacked. Havoc beat the shit out of her attacker, but not before…” God, why was this so fucking hard to say?

Understanding was written all over Tavonte’s face. “She was raped, too?”

I nodded, grateful he’d saved me the trouble of admitting it aloud. “It’s not as rare as you’d think. Nearly one in five American women is the victim of rape or attempted rape. That shit happens far too often.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize it was that common. That’s fuckin’ awful.” He sipped from his bottle.

“Yeah. Lily’s family isn’t much to speak of, and she moved to Seattle when her grandma died. She wanted to get as far away from Georgia as possible. After the attack, the club kinda adopted her.” I remembered the night she came to the fire station, looking scared, alone, and so much like my dead fiancée, it hurt to look at her.

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