“Most people wouldn’t.”
“I don’t know.”
But I do. I think of all the people I went through the system with—at least, those I’m in contact with through social media—and a lot of them are still struggling to find their place in the world. But it’s not because I’m special. It was chance. It was opportunity. It was desperation.
“I’m grateful, though, because that’s how I ended up pursuing my degrees. This probably won’t come as a shock, but the majority of my adult life, I’ve kept to myself. In college, I didn’t want distractions. I never really fit anywhere, and this was no different. I was the girl who’d rather have her nose in a book than go to a party.”
“That’s understandable.”
“After my bachelor’s, I worked for several years to save up for graduate school. That’s where I met Edward’s father and, well, my entire world shifted. He made me feel so damn wanted. From the moment I stepped into his classroom, he made me feel like what I had to say was something worth listening to. No one had ever made me feel that way before. And when he started pulling me aside after class and inviting me to stop by his office hours, I was completely under his spell.”
“He took advantage of you.”
“Yes. But I couldn’t see it. His predatory behavior was so well practiced, I felt like the only student he’d ever crossed boundaries for. He lied. A lot. Which I didn’t find out until it was too late. I knew he was married, but he claimed it was only in the legal sense. He told me they’d lived separate lives for years and were in the process of getting divorced.”
“That’s so fucked up.”
“Yeah, and I ignored all the red flags. Maybe because I wasyoung? Or because I was vulnerable? But also, I ignored them because it was easier. I’d been critical of everyone my entire life. But this man got a pass because he understood me. He loved me completely, and I loved him back. It was reckless, but I was tired of playing safe. I was tired of not living. Everything was perfect until I got pregnant.”
“What happened then?”
“I was in my final semester at that point. We discussed an abortion. Then adoption. He pretended it was my choice, but I see how he did everything he could to manipulate my decision. Once he realized I wasn’t open to giving up my child, his attitude toward me changed completely. He distanced himself. Stopped returning my messages. Stopped inviting me to his office. I worried, obsessively, that he finally saw what everyone had seen before—that I wasn’t worth keeping around.”
That I wasn’t worthy of love.
All the feelings from that moment come rushing back. I suck in a breath.
“He’s a fucking fool.” Jackson reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.
I force myself to finish the story, even as my pulse races.
“After a week, he asked me to come to his office after class, and when I got there, he was waiting with lawyers.” Even after all these years, I feel the fresh heat of betrayal. “They gave me two options. Take his money and sign an NDA . . . or be ruined. He threatened to file a restraining order and make it his personal mission to keep me from finding a job. He could fail me. Keep me from graduating. Wouldn’t give me a dime. He would discredit everything I worked so hard for. And what could I do? He was from a family with influence and generational wealth, and I was a poor orphan who no one had ever wanted. He’d tell everyone I tricked him into getting pregnant. No one would believe my word over his.”
“So you took the money.”
I can’t bear to look at Jackson.
“You can judge me for that.” The laugh that escapes my parted lips is bitter. “I certainly do.”
“Nope. None of that.” He cups my jaw and lifts my gaze. “You did what you had to do. Did what gave Edward the best life.”
“Maybe? But am I any better than my ex? Can I truly justify my own choices when they protect me too? I lie to my own child, Jackson. I tell him that his father died before he was born. That he wanted him. That he loved him. Because I swore I would never let my child feel the way I did. But is lying any better? He thinks the man who comes to visit for one week each summer is his father’s uncle, not his father.”
“That’s why you’re hiding out this week.” He fits the last pieces together.
I blink so I won’t cry, and nod.
“Oh, honey.”
He yanks the pillow away and pulls me into his arms, hugging me to him as if he will never let me go. I’m so used to holding it together on my own, I have to fight the instinct to pull away.
For once, I want to pretend there’s someone else in my corner. I am tired of taking care of myself. Tired of carrying the weight of my decisions alone.
Tonight, I give up. Tonight, I’m letting Jackson take care of me.
The instant I make this decision, my tears fall. They’re silent at first, but soon I’m heaving sobs and holding on to Jackson as if he’s my lifeline. As embarrassed as I am, I don’t apologize or try to hold in my pain. I need this release. I need him.
If Jackson is alarmed or put off by my crying, he doesn’t show it. He hugs me close and smooths back my hair while whispering things like, “I’ve got you. Let it out. You’re okay. I’m here. I’m here.”
