“How do I know you cooked it all the way through?”
“Because I wouldn’t give you anything that would hurt you,” I argue. “So the easy way or the hard way.”
She opens her mouth slowly and pushes the spoon in. She blinks a few times, her eyes widening, then she slurps the rest of the food off the spoon.
“Are you going to eat tonight?” I ask.
“Yes. Definitely yes. This is a big upgrade from ham sandwiches,” she answers.
I’m tempted to lean in and kiss her, but I don’t want to push the limits. I have plenty to make up for even if we don’t talk about it. There’s too much between us to rush things even if I want to kiss her, sweep her up into my arms, and show herexactly how much I want her, all the ways I can cherish her, all the ways I can please her.
It’s harder to be patient than I want to admit.
But when we sit down to eat, I notice Jaxon is missing. I sigh. “Want to text him?”
Knox looks up, realizes there’s food, and shrugs. “He’s an adult. He can do what he wants.”
Hope doesn’t seem upset, so I shrug it off, sure we’re just expecting the worst.
HOPE
While I get ready for bed, I keep replaying the last part of the counseling session.
“Why didn’t you try to tell anyone? Why didn’t you seek help, leave, anything to escape the situation?” Jo asks.
I stare at her as anger boils in my stomach. Confusion swirls in my head. I can’t believe that she normally asks people this. My mouth opens and closes, then I give the only answer I can. “I went to the police. I told teachers. They all believed my dad. He said I was making it up. That I was a slut.”
The last sentence isn’t supposed to slip out, but it does. She looks at me for a long time, writes some things down, then asks about Knox, Jax, and Dimitri, almost like an afterthought or a way to move the session forward. I don’t say much, just that they’re confusing me by being so gentle lately, so sweet, and it makes me feel fragile.
Shaking my head, I finish brushing my teeth, spit out the lingering bad taste from the counselor’s office, and rub my foot over the back of my calf. It’s going to be uncomfortable and maybe I’m misreading Jo’s responses. She has to be analytical, she has to prepare me for questions others will ask, right?
It’s like ripping off a band-aid quickly. It still hurts, but hurts less than taking extra time to do the same thing. I exhale slowly, then go to bed. I keep thinking that I should give up the bed, let the guys sleep here and take the couch.
Or I should go to a different apartment and sleep alone so they actually get some sleep. I don’t want to be the reason they fail while they’re on the field, or get hurt, or look utterly exhausted. Maybe I’m making things worse. Maybe they feel guilty whenever they look at me.
Maybe I’m already paranoid and anxious because it’s easier to feel that than to go back to feeling helpless. I nibble my constantly raw bottom lip and think about the videos the guys mentioned. I wonder how many other people have seen them. I wonder if anyone downloaded them.
Would there be any way to know?
I hear the guys talking in the living room and I tell myself to relax. I didn’t have a panic attack today and we spent more time outside of the house. That’s a win. I was actually hungry and cooked with Dimitri. That’s another win. Now, I might be able to get more than a few hours of sleep.
I cross my fingers.
A little bit better every day. It’s the same way that I rebuilt my life when I left my dad. I did it once. I can do it again.
KNOX
Jaxon just shrugs as he looks at us. There’s a stack of papers on the table in front of us. He motions to it and sits down, twisting off a cap on his own beer bottle. “It was worth missing dinner to get.”
“This can’t actually be the files from the therapist office,” Dimitri says as he refuses to touch the pages.
“It is. Specifically, Hope’s file. I was careful. She’s the only one I want to know more about,” Jaxon says casually.
I gape at him, my mind in turmoil. This man… “You broke into the counseling office, then you went through patient files, copied all of Hope’s, and walked out with it?” I list out.
He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer. “I didn’t have to copy shit. It was all on the tablet. The tablet wasn’t even password protected. All I had to do was start up the printer.” He takes another long swallow. “They should better protect patient records. It should be harder to get information.”
“You can’t just…” I trail off, eyeing the papers again. “Breaking in and accessing someone’s personal files is more than a violation of privacy, it’s a crime, Jax. A big one. Breaking and entering is just the start.”
