When I went to therapy next, I had hoped that she would help me work out a plan to get Tucker to leave me alone. Instead, she reminded me I needed to ask for help. Something I had almost been willing to do.
Unknown number: What do you think your boyfriend would do if he saw this?
Tucker had videotaped the rape, and he’d edited it and combined it with other videos we had made throughout our relationship. Instead of it looking like I was begging him to stop, it looked like I was begging for more.
My stomach lurched, and I took several deep breaths, trying to get my body under control.
I had tried to push Jonathan away, too. Thank God, he’d recognized it and never once pushed for an explanation. He kept showing up. My heart clenched painfully as I thought about how he accepted me and let me take my time emotionally.
Kelsey and I talked through it. And while she wanted me to tell Jonathan, she promised that no matter what, she’d be there for me. Fuck it if that wasn’t exactly what I needed from her.
“Sometimes when you let someone in, you bump into the spots in your heart that were left raw by someone else. Some of those raw spots heal, but others just form a scab. You’re worried he’ll disappoint you, that he’s not who you think he is. But Ken, either way, it’s okay. You’ll be okay.” Kelsey’s speech hit me hard, and it continued to run through my head even now.
“It’s always been easier to keep them out.” When I had said this, I realized that I didn’t want that; I had never wanted to be closed off. I liked to joke and say that I was with Jonathan because it was convenient, because the sex was out of this world, or because it was simple. But there was nothing simple about the emotional baggage I carried, and I couldn’t simply leave it behind. And it wasn’t just because Tucker wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone.
“Do you ever do things the easy way?”
Kelsey’s question continued to run through my head as the miles passed. At mile fifteen, light rain had started, and when I hit the Newton hills, the first of four hills on Commonwealth Ave, my training kicked into gear. The weather report had warned of a brief patch of rain, and for once it was correct, it didn’t last.
This is what you trained for.My mental reminder kept running through my head as I dug in and answered my sister’s question.No, I don’t do things the easy way.
My body ached, but I kept moving. My legs screamed, but they still worked. As long as I could keep moving, I would.
When I realized I was at the peak of Heartbreak Hill, a sob ripped through me, and the tears began to fall. This race was tearing my body apart, but piecing my soul back together. I stopped noticing where I hurt, because somewhere along the course, in the city I loved, I had left something heavy.
I didn’t see the finish line; I saw Jonathan. Oh, fuck. I saw his love.
Stumbling into his arms, I was immediately wrapped in a foil blanket and scooped up before I collapsed. I buried my head in his chest, sobbing into him as I let go.
Maybe it was the emotions as my body ached in absolute exhaustion, but as Jonathan held me at the finish line and the tears continued to fall with no sign of stopping, I was struck by an overwhelming sadness. The heavy thing I’d left on the racecourse was my armor. And I was in the arms of a man I trusted to be without it.
“I got you.”
“It was Tucker.”
FORTY-EIGHT
hawk
“It was Tucker.”
The second the words were out of her mouth, I mentally cursed myself for not seeing the signs. Fuck, how could I have been so fucking blind?
Our families had tried to surround us, but I waved them off, finding a quiet spot on the sidewalk against a brick building where I could sit and hold her. The war within myself screamed at me to end Tucker, but called me to hold her.
“I’ve got you. Okay?”
She nodded into my chest. “I’ve been trying to fix it. But he—won’t—go away.”
“I don’t give a fuck what it takes, but he’s never going to hurt you again.”
“How?” When she asked that simple question, her red-rimmed eyes met mine. A vulnerability shone back at me, one I’d never thought I would ever see attached to her face. Fuck—a gift from her. This woman survived by putting upwalls, protecting every goddamn inch of the soft spots, and she’d let every single one of them down for me.
“I don’t know, but we’re going to figure that out—together.”
She pulled back and looked down at my shirt, which had become a crumpled, wet mess from her tears and snot.
“Is this Tom Ford?”
