We’re not over until I say we’re over.
CHAPTER 16
Alondra
After I’ve finally startedto calm down, I peel myself away from Jack, crawling out of his lap to sit next to him on the couch. Dylan is sitting on one of the bar stools, tapping on his phone screen.
“Alondra?” Jack asks when I reach for a tissue to clean up my face.
“Sorry, I think I got snot on your sweatshirt,” I mumble, taking my coat off and dumping it on the floor. I’ll deal with it later because not hanging up my coat right now is the least of my problems.
“It’s fine,” he says, turning to face me, but it’s not fine. It’s really gross, and I feel bad.
“Are you okay?” Dylan asks, and I feel raw and exposed.
I sniffle, looking down at my hands for a moment. “No, but I will be. Thanks for coming—both of you,” I clarify, glancing up at them to find Jack staring at me.
“Who did this to you?” he asks, frowning. Jack reaches for my face, and I hate that I flinch instinctively. A new piece of me fractures from the way he’s looking at me. I never wanted Jack to look at me like this.
“Who did what?”
Bradley didn’t touch me today. He only showed up to remind me I’m not free.
“Your lip is bleeding,” Dylan’s voice is gentle, and I grab another tissue to press it to my mouth, and sure enough, my lip is bleeding.
I wipe my cheeks and blow my nose again, trying to think of what I did to bust it. “I must have bitten my lip.”
“Al, you don’t have to lie,” Jack says, tugging his hands through his chestnut hair.
“I’m not. I’mfine,” I say, my voice breaking as I twist the tissue in my hands. “Thanks for coming, but you guys should go. It’s all good.”
I’m lying. I’m not good, but I have to put myself back together.
A low chuckle slips from Dylan as he shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re not fine, and it’s not all good. Maybe we can help, but we have to talk about whatever happened to know what to do.”
“He left. There’s nothing more to it than that,” I say, reaching back to twist my hair into a bun, needing to do something with my hands.
“Who left?” Jack asks, and I notice the dark spot on the collar of his sweatshirt where my lip must have bled onto him.
“Does it matter?” I ask, unable to help glancing at Dylan. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter of telling Jack, but the way Dylan’s looking at me—whether he knows it or not—is why I don’t jump to tell people the truth about Bradley. It’s the same way Macy looked at me when I told her the truth in the hospital.
Jack follows my gaze to Dylan and wipes his hands on his thighs, offering one to me. I stare at it, blinking before taking it. “Dylan, you good out here for a couple minutes?” he asks, turning to look at his friend while I stand, wobbling on shaky legs.
“Sure,” he agrees, and I wish I was standing on solid ground for this conversation. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here faster,” Dylan says, and I try to smile back, pulling my hand from Jack’s to walk toward my room, climbing on the bed as Jack follows behind me.
“It was Bradley, wasn’t it?” Jack asks, after shutting the door, confirming my suspicion that it was Bradley who approached him. I’ve been careful never to mention his name, and while Macy can’t keep a secret, she wouldn’t have told Jack about this.
“Yeah,” I admit, swallowing the acid creeping up my throat. “Bradley was waiting for me to get back.”
Jack tenses, bracing his arms on the back of his neck. “Fuck, Alondra. What would you have done if you weren’t on the phone with me?”
I don’t even want to consider it because I don’t know.
I close my eyes, shutting them tightly because I don’t think I can look at him when I say this. “We were together for a year and a half. Bradley was sweet and charming, and he made me laugh.” It’s hard to remember the good when the bad would happen so fast. “The first time he put his hands on me was because I laughed at him. Bradley told me he didn’t like the way I spoke about one of my friends at the rink because he was a guy, and he asked me not to talk to him anymore, and I laughed. He shoved me against the wall, and I couldn’t believe it. I thought I imagined it, but then it happened again a few weeks later when we got back from hanging out with his friends. Bradley shoved me from behind and told me not to act like such a slut around his friends.”
I feel the bed dip next to me, but I can’t open my eyes. I can’t see him look at me the same way Dylan was in the living room. “He’d beg me for forgiveness, and no matter how sick and twisted it all was . . . I loved him, so I let myself be manipulated. I wanted to be loved so desperately I did whatever he wanted because I thought if I could make him happy, it’d be enough andhe’d stop.” I feel another tear slide past my defenses, and I reach up, wiping it away. “I was wrong.”
I wait for Jack to say something, but I’m terrified of what he’s going to say.
