Page 48 of Resilient Rhythms
Mckenna’s quiet for a long moment. Threads of tension crisscross the table as the four of us try to think things through.
“If there are other women,” Mr. Byrne says, “a strength-in-numbers approach could be successful. It would certainly make a media splash.”
I frown. “That’s a big assumption though. To just assume that he’s assaulted other women and if he has, that they would be willing to come forward and name him as well.”
“Mav’s right,” Mckenna says quietly. Then, she swears. “But the thought of him doing this to another woman if I don’t speak up…” She trails off, sighing heavily. “I don’t think I’m the only one, Mav. I don’t.”
“We’d need to consult with a civil rights attorney. And a sexual assault advocate,” Mr. Byrne says slowly. “I think we should start there, Kenny.”
“All right,” Mckenna agrees.
“If you’re okay with it, I can get some names from Aiden,” I say, looking at Mckenna.
She holds my eyes for a long moment before nodding. “That would be good. I trust Aiden.”
“I do too.” I take another gulp of coffee, wanting the rich taste to clear my mind. To ease the erratic thoughts that swirl around my head.
What if people don’t believe her and accuse her of lying? Hell, isn’t that why so many women don’t come forward? They feel like they can’t.
What if this becomes a big, public spectacle?
Is Mckenna ready for that?
What does she need from me?
How involved should I be in this? How involvedcanI be in this?
Can I support her without smothering her?
Am I strong enough to handle whatever the hell happens next?
Mr. Byrne and Mckenna talk about a few lawyers their family knows as I sit and stew in my thoughts. My grip on my mug tightens as the first tendrils of panic unspool in my stomach, licking up the sides of my ribs.
Jeannie’s hand lands on my forearm and I look up, surprised. Her touch is gentle and her eyes hold so much damn understanding that emotion clogs my throat.
“You’re doing everything right, Mav,” she says quietly. “She needs you and she wants you just the way you are. Don’t second-guess yourself.”
I let out a long, quiet sigh. “Thank you, Jeannie.”
She pats my forearm once before removing her hand.
I sigh, staring at my beauty. She is the strongest woman I know and I’ll be damned if I let her down again.
That night, my thoughts are all over the place. Even though Jeannie’s words of encouragement helped, I can’t stop my brain from spinning a thousand different scenarios.
Will more women come forward?
Hell, are there more women that Bran hurt?
Does his father know he’s in Massachusetts?
Will Mr. Byrne’s agreement with Bran’s dad hurt Mckenna’s case?
What the fuck is Bran doing here?
Unable to manage the shit going on in my head, I ask Drew to hang at the brownstone for a bit. Then, I go for a drive, pick up a six-pack of non-alcoholic beer, and wind up at my brother’s place. I’m unsurprised to find him on the back porch, drinking a bottle of real beer and gazing out into the darkness.
“You’re back,” he murmurs as I place the six-pack down in the space between his chair and mine.
