Bradley thinks I’m like him. I would never hurt Al. I wouldn’t ever hit a woman because I’m not like him or my dad.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dylan calls after me, and I close my eyes, bracing my hands behind my head, seeing flashes of the worst night of my life.
I’m nothing like them.
Bradley is a sick fuck who got off on hurting Al.My Alondra, who is kind, feisty, and the best part of my day.
“Just forget it,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach. I might actually vomit.
He fucking smiled after saying he’d hurt her during sex and . . . I don’t know.
I shut the door in Dylan’s face, needing to be alone with my thoughts.
Have I taken things too far with Al before in the heat of the moment, and not even realized it?
Taking a seat on the edge of my bed, I replay every moment with Alondra, no matter how insignificant I might have thought it was. Just because it was insignificant to me, doesn’t mean it was for her.
Would she have told me if I was too rough?
The door opens, and I look up through blurry vision, ready to tell Dylan to get the fuck out when I see Al standing there. I don’t know how, but I’m so damn glad to have her in front of me, there’s zero hesitation as I take three quick steps to close the distance between us. “Jack,” she says my name, and I bury my face in her curls, inhaling the scent of strawberries. The tension leaves my body in an instant, and her arms tighten around me.
“You’re nothing like him,” she whispers, and a sob catches in my throat.
She’s okay. My girl is okay, and she’s here with me.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I’m so sorry.”
“Listen to me, you are nothing like him. You’re warm, and sweet, and you make me feel like a version of myself I thought was gone. He is a terrible, shitty person who can’t let go. Don’t apologize. You have donenothingwrong.”
“Darlin’, it kills me to know he—” I choke up, cutting myself off because I cannot say the words out loud.
She rubs my back, offering her silent reassurance, and I cling to Al, letting her guide me toward the bed.
Alondra pulls back after we’re seated, wiping at my cheeks to force me to look at her. “Jack, I can’t erase my history with Bradley, no matter how much I might want to, but please don’t focus on this,” she says, watching me closely.
“Did he hurt you during sex?” I force the words out, feeling my stomach churn.
Tears glisten in her eyes, and she nods, cracking my chest wide open to absorb all of the pain the beautiful girl in front of me has been through more than she should’ve had to. I don’t even realize I’m crying until my vision blurs the image of her, and Al is quick to wipe them away.
“You give me a choice in everything. I want to erase every terrible memory with him, and I want to replace them with you,” she says, and I swallow the lump in my throat. I can do that. I can be the person she rewrites her story with, while I learn how to believe in happily-ever-afters.
“Promise me you’ll always tell me if you want to stop,” I beg, my voice a low rasp.
She nods, blinking back her tears. “Only if you promise to never compare yourself to Bradley again.”
I press my lips to hers, tasting the saltiness of my tears in the process, because even if I don’t believe in love, I do believe in Alondra.
CHAPTER 33
Alondra
The soundof silverware clinking against porcelain plates fills the awkward silence as I slump in the chair of my parents’ dining room I’ve been summoned to for dinner tonight. This is the last place I wanted to be tonight, especially because I’m on the second day of my period, and my cramps are barely being held at bay by the Motrin I took earlier. It’s also finals week, but I haven’t had too much to do, whereas Jack has been a bundle of stress, pushing himself to do well on all his exams. He’s looking at having his highest GPA this semester since starting college, but I think it’s putting more pressure than necessary on his shoulders. Regardless of how his tests go, I couldn’t be more proud of him.
“It’s delicious,” Dad says, cutting through the tension to smile at my mom sitting next to him.
“Thanks, hun,” she says, smiling back at him. “Do you have many finals left?” Mom asks, and I shrug my shoulders.
“One, but it’s not a formal exam, just an essay I have to turn in later tonight,” I say, taking another bite of the roasted chicken she prepared. I told Jack I would finish reading through his after I’m done here.
