“But why did you come to me?Specifically?”
“Because…I feel safe at your house.”
“Exactly. Deep down you know if Casanova—or anyone—is stupid enough to try to hurt you when I’m around, it will end badly for him. You know I’ll protect you, even when I hate you. If you know it now, then you definitely knew it at sixteen when I gave you anything you wanted.
“The second Sheri started spewing her bullshit that day, you should’ve put an end to it. I needed you to set the record straight, Avery. Iaskedyou to. Instead, you were quiet, then you bolted, leaving things to spin out of control. The cops were ready to arrest me for rape. They came close.” His voice is a growl, and he shakes his head, his mouth a grim line as he relives the moment.
I’d do anything to be able to make him forget it.
“That wasn’t the first time a self-centered woman broke my heart,” he says softly, making my own heart break at the reference to his mom’s desertion. “But it’s the closest anyone’s come to destroying myentirelife.”
10
SHANE
She’s upset and needs a minute, so I get out of the car and leave her to pull herself together. The truth is I need a minute, too. Until she got to Granthorpe, I thought I had all this shit in a locked box that I never needed to touch. Now we’re fucking unboxing all over again.
As I wait, a part of me wants to get back in the car to comfort her because, for once, she’s not trying to rationalize or excuse anything, and, for once, I actually believe that itreallydidn’t occur to her how bad things could get if she didn’t speak up to defend me. Sheri sounded as though there was no doubt about what happened, and I guess Avery wasn’t capable of piecing the truth together and reacting fast while she was so hungover.
I wonder whether Ethan could’ve convinced me of a lie under those circumstances. Definitely not at sixteen. But when I’d been younger and as innocent as Avery was? Maybe. At thirteen or fourteen, I might’ve confused a lie for the truth for a few minutes.
I do know one thing. Even if I’d been fourteen and believed a lie in which Avery betrayed me, if she’d begged me to rescue her I would have. And I’d have covered for her in a heartbeat when the police came. There is zero chance I would’ve let them take her away in handcuffs.Zero.Protecting her back then was pure instinct. Anywhere. Anytime. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d tried. That’s what eats at me. That morning I was drowning; I asked her to save me, and she let me sink.
Maybe over time she’d have stepped up to defend me more forcefully. We’ll never know because of my father.
As fucked up as being spied on by my dad was, it did save me. I haven’t forgotten that. As any good lawyer will tell you, having ironclad documentation of the truth comes in handy…if you’re innocent.
The door opens, and she emerges from the car. Her eyes are red, and she doesn’t look at me.
“Let’s take a walk to the bus stop,” I say, wanting to move on from the topic that keeps coming back to haunt us. “I wanna see where the guy splashed you with the rose water.”
She leads the way, and we walk in silence.
The task at hand helps to distract me. I look for anything that looks wrong. Trampled plants, a snapped branch, footprints in the dirt. I spot nothing.
From the layout, I agree with her that it was probably the jogger in the hoodie who splashed her because the tight row of bushes along the path would’ve made it hard for anyone to approach her from the side. Since the guy splashed her face, it had to be someone who approached her head-on. Which is ballsy as hell.
When I ask if he could’ve been wearing a mask, she shrugs.
“I was looking down.”
“Who knows you’re staying with me?”
She flinches, and I realize maybe my tone sounded rough to her. That’s not how I meant it to sound.
“No one.” Avery’s arms cross over her chest, her hands rubbing her upper arms.
My tone is intentionally lighter when I speak again. “You didn’t mention it to anyone? You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“The bus you took to get to my house has an off-campus route. Not a typical bus for you?”
She swallows, glancing at the path thoughtfully. “Not normally, no. But I walked to this stop several times when I was bringing clothes and books to your house. Anyone watching me could’ve seen me and figured out I was moving off campus.”
“All right. Let’s go take a look at your dorm room.”
We’re again silent on the walk, and she’s subdued. I decide that today’s conversation is the last one she and I are ever having about that morning two years ago. We understand each other’s perspectives now. It’s enough.
