Page 47 of Where We Belong
Something coils in my stomach.
“What happened?” I croak.
She doesn’t answer right away, and when she does, what she says is, “It’s not a funny story.”
“I didn’t ask for funny. I asked for the truth.”
Her eyes flutter shut as she seems to steel herself for something, and that only makes the ache in my stomach grow.
Finally, eyes still closed, she begins.
“Something… happened to me when I was younger. I can’t tell you what or when exactly, because I’m not sure myself. But I remember being a normal kid before, and then my mom started dating this guy who moved in with us and…” Her words stop as her jaw moves back and forth. Meanwhile, I feel so fucking heavy. I want to tell her to stop, that she doesn’t have to tell me after all, but I have this unhealthy craving for the truth.
When her eyes open, they’re blurry. She blinks and looks to the ceiling as she forces the emptiest smile I’ve ever seen. “I don’t know what he did to me. I don’t remember. The only thing I do remember is one day waking up and hating the feeling of being touched, especially when I don’t expect it. Flashes come to me sometimes, but that’s it.” She clears her throat. “Some therapist in school told me I might have repressed some painful memories and that’s why I don’t remember, but I’ve never worked on getting them back. I’m fine not remembering, you know?”
No, I don’t know. I can’t imagine a word of what she’s saying because that’s something no one should ever have to visualize, let alone experience.
And suddenly, I feel like breaking something. Throw the forgotten plate against the wall and hear the porcelain shatter. Smash the chair I’m sitting on into the wall and watch the plaster fall off piece by piece. Kill a certain man I don’t even know.
But I won’t do any of that because what I’m feeling doesn’t matter here.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her, the words too simple but also the only ones I can find.
She shrugs, then puffs out a breath. “So, anyway, that’s why I’m not a fan of touchy jump scares.”
Mouth dry and smile tight and plastic-like, I tell her, “Noted.”
And then, as if saved by the bell, a phone rings. Hers.
“Sorry,” she says, then gets up and goes to answer it in the living room. I watch her as she answers the call, the dimple in her chin shifting with each word, a toned arm stretching behind her neck. She might look small and sweet, but she’s one of the strongest people I know, hands down. Every new thing she tells me about her reinforces that belief. Even through everything, she continues to choose to move forward, and that requires a strength of its own. She didn’t let what happened to her crush her down. She decided to take life by the balls and make it her bitch.
Right this moment, I promise myself that what she’s just told me won’t change a thing about the way I see her. She didn’t want my pity, she wanted to gift me with her trust, and that, I know, is one of the hardest things to do. I won’t waste it.
“Okay, see you soon,” I hear from the living room, and then she’s walking back toward me. I paste on a smile, ready to take her mind off things and bring back the lightheartedness from before, but when I see her wide eyes and tight mouth, I know that’s not happening.
“What? What’s wrong?” I ask, already up on my feet.
“That was my little sister.” She looks down at the phone as she says, “I have to go back home.”
Chapter 16
Lexie
“Areyousurethisis a good idea?”
I don’t look up from my weekender bag, which I’m filling with whatever clothes I can put my hands on. To be honest, I haven’t taken the time to think this through. My hands shake as I push a SHGC sweatshirt into the bag.
“I don’t have a choice, Finn,” I say. It doesn’t matter that I want to go home as much as I want to get back-to-back root canals. Josie needs me, so that’s that.
“I don’t like this,” he mutters, standing stiff as a rod next to the couch where all my clothes are spread out. I haven’t even checked whether there’s any red-eye available for tonight. I’ll just show up at the airport and hope for the best. Chaotic strategy? Sure, but I don’t have the brainpower to think further than this.
“Why?” I ask, flicking my eyes from the pairs of socks in my hands, finding a long crease between Finn’s eyebrows.
“Have you seen your face since that phone call?”
“I’ll try not to be insulted.”
He rolls his eyes. “You look scared, Lex.”
