Page 82 of Shattered Rhythm

I go to the grocery store and buy everything needed for a charcuterie board—cold cuts, different cheeses, fruits, crackers, bread, and some nuts. I get a Moscato to go with it but also buy a six-pack of beer just in case. I used to make those boards with my mom when her girlfriends came over to visit. They called itkeeping each other updated, but I called it outright gossiping. Still, it was fun, and the boards were always appreciated and easy to make, even for me.

I get home and do some of my homework before I take a shower. In the early evening, I get started on my board, and when I’m done, I put the Moscato under my arm so I can carry the board covered with foil in both hands. I open my door with my elbow and knock on Gunner’s door with my foot. It takes a minute, but when Gunner finally opens his door, I nearly let the board fall to the floor.

His face has been beaten black and blue, while both of his eyes are swollen shut and already turning violet.

“Oh my god, Gun! What happened to you?” I push my way into his apartment and set the board and Moscato on the counter in the kitchenette.

Gunner has closed the door and is standing behind me, so I push him to sit down on his bed. I kneel in front of him and take his face in my hands. He hisses at the contact, and I lighten my touch. I feel tears pricking in the corner of my eyes.

“Gun, what happened? Why haven’t you called?” I ask, and he lowers his head.

“It’s nothing. I didn’t want to bother you,” he replies.

“Gunner!” I yell. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I lower my voice, trying to sound gentler. “It bothered me that you never answered my texts or came over. I was worried, and it seems not without reason.” I stroke his head, and his eyes get glassy.

“You were worried about me?” he asks, sounding vulnerable.

“Of course I was,” I reply, my voice breaking. “That’s what best friends do—we have each other’s backs.”

With that, he pulls me into a hug and starts sobbing.

Oh my god, what happened?It breaks my heart to see such a big man break down in front of me. I stroke his back as he sobs, trying to comfort him.

“Shh, I’m here, Gunner. What happened?”

He sobs a little longer before leaning back, and I wipe away a tear from his cheek. I sit on his bed, leaning against the headboard, and invite him to lie between my legs with his face turned to the side, resting on my belly. I stroke the back of his head, trying to calm him down.

“Who did this to you?” I ask him again, my voice shaking with anger.

“My father,” he whispers, and I inhale sharply, unable to believe what I’m hearing. “He thought I was a little too friendly to one of our clients, so he beat me after the job was done.” My mind is racing with a mix of disbelief, anger and sadness.

“What the fuck?” I exclaim, unable to contain my rage.

“Every time he does this, I’m a little boy again,” Gunner continues. “I’m frozen in fear and can’t defend myself. The logical part of my brain knows that I could beat him if I wanted to, but I just can’t.” His voice breaks as tears start to stream down his face again.

“He’s done this before?” I ask him,

He nods, head still on my belly. “But he never took it this far,” he says quietly, and I feel my blood boil at the thought of someone hurting Gunner like this.

“You don’t deserve this, Gun. No one deserves to be treated like this.” I run my fingers over his head, and he leans into my touch. “What can I do to help you?” I ask.

“I don’t know, he replies, shaking his head. “I just needed to see you. You make me feel safe.” My heart aches at his words.

“You know I’ll always be here for you, Gun. Always,” I tell him, and he nods, his eyes still closed.

We sit like that for a while, him lying on his stomach, while I stroke him and whisper words of comfort to him. I don’t know how long we sit like that, but eventually, he falls asleep. I don’t want to disturb him, so I just stay there, holding him, listening to the sound of his breathing.

When he finally wakes up, it’s dark outside, and I’ve been sitting there for hours. He looks up at me, and I can see the sadness and pain in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“For what?” I ask, confused.

“For burdening you with all of this, for being weak,” he says.

“You’re not weak, Gun,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re strong for surviving all of this, and you’re never a burden to me. I want to be here for you.”

He gets up and leans in to kiss my cheek. “Thank you, Livy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

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