We drive back to Hartford in silence, each lost in our own thoughts about what comes next.
And I just know that everything we've built is about to crumble, and I'm the one who lit the match.
30
MAYA
The news breaks at 6 a.m. while I'm in the living room, unable to sleep after everything that happened yesterday.
Jackson's downstairs in his room, we haven't spoken since the drive home, and Emma and Chase are still asleep. Ethan won't be up for another hour.
I'm staring at nothing when the TV flickers to life. Someone must have set a timer. The morning news starts, and there it is, bold letters across the bottom of the screen.
Hartford Wolves Captain Jackson Anderson Arrested for Assault.
My stomach drops. I grab the remote and turn the volume up with shaking hands.
"—arrested yesterday at Pinewood Memorial Hospital for the alleged assault of Dr. Richard Carson, head of Emergency Medicine. Anderson, captain of the Hartford Wolves, was taken into custody after multiple witnesses reported seeing him attack Dr. Carson in a hospital hallway. Sources say Dr. Carson sustained significant injuries, including a broken nose and fracturedribs?—"
I'm frozen. I can't move, can't breathe, can't look away from the screen.
My phone starts ringing. Then Jackson's phone rings from downstairs, the sound carrying up. Then mine again.
By 7 a.m., they have my name.
I watch in horror as a reporter stands outside Pinewood Memorial, talking about a sexual assault allegation, about a nurse named Maya Rivera who reported being raped by her supervisor.
About me.
My rape, my name, my entire trauma on the morning news for everyone to see.
"—Sources confirm that Maya Rivera, the alleged victim in the sexual assault, is currently living with Anderson's family in Hartford. The connection between Anderson and Rivera raises questions about whether this assault was personal rather than?—"
I turn off the TV. My hands are shaking so badly that I drop the remote, and it clatters against the hardwood floor.
Footsteps sound on the stairs. I turn and see Jackson coming up from the basement, his face pale, phone in hand. He looks like he hasn't slept either.
"Maya—"
"They know. They know everything."
"Not everything." But his voice says he knows it's only a matter of time.
More footsteps. Emma emerges from upstairs, Chase behind her. She's in pajamas, hair a mess, one hand on her pregnant belly, looking confused and half-asleep.
"Why are you both up so early? Is everything..." She sees our faces. "What's wrong?"
"Turn on the TV," I say.
She does, catching the tail end of a news segment aboutJackson's arrest, about my rape, about the hospital. The color drains from her face as she processes what she's hearing.
"What..." Emma looks at me, confusion giving way to horror. "Maya, what is this? Is this why you've been in therapy?"
"Yes."
"You were raped?" Her voice cracks, and I can see the betrayal already forming in her eyes. "You told me therapy was about Lily, about losing your patient."
"It was about that, too. But also about what happened after."
