Chapter 47
Dylan
It’s been a few weeks since everything came out, and things are slowly starting to feel normal again. Matthew has been reconnecting with Gideon, and it’s been good for him—I can see that. It’s hard to stay angry when he’s making an effort. I’ve even talked to Gideon a couple of times when he’s come over, though I’m still not ready to talk to my mom yet. I know I should. I know I’ll have to, eventually. But there’s just this wall between us, and I’m not sure how to break it down. Or if I even want to.
For now, I’m focusing on the here and now, on the people who’ve been there for me—Matthew, Ford, and Jacob. They’ve been my rock through everything, grounding me when I felt like I was unraveling.
We’re all sprawled out on the couch, watching some mindless show that none of us are really paying attention to. Ford’s got his arm around my shoulder, his fingers lazily playing with my hair. Jacob is sitting on the floor in front of me, leaning back against my legs. Matthew is stretched out on the other side of me, hishead on my thigh and one hand resting on my ankle, his touch reassuring and steady.
It’s moments like this that remind me why I’ve fought so hard to move forward. To let go of the past. To focus on the life I’ve built, and the love I have.
But then, as the news rolls on to the next segment, something catches my attention. Brock Johnson. His name flashes across the screen in bold letters, followed by his mugshot. My breath catches in my throat, and I sit up straighter, my heart hammering in my chest.
"Turn it up," I say, my voice barely a whisper. Ford grabs the remote and does as I ask, and the room fills with the sound of the news anchor’s voice.
“Brock Johnson, an early front-runner for Summerview’s lacrosse team, has been arrested on multiple charges of rape and sexual assault. Several women have come forward with allegations, claiming that Johnson assaulted them over the past four years. Authorities say more victims are expected to come forward as the investigation continues.”
I feel like the air has been sucked out of the room. My stomach churns, and my hands begin to tremble. I knew he was capable of horrible things—he tried to assault me, after all. But hearing that other women had suffered because of him… It’s like a punch to the gut.
For a moment, I can’t breathe—can’t think. All I can do is stare at the screen, at the image of Brock’s face, smug and defiant even in his mugshot.
I should have said something. I should have stopped him when I had the chance.
“Dylan?” Ford’s voice is soft, concerned, and it pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. I look at him, my eyes wide, panic building in my chest.
“I… I could have stopped him,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “If I had said something back then, maybe those girls wouldn’t have had to go through this.”
“Hey, hey, no,” Jacob says, turning around to face me, his hands gripping my knees. “This is not your fault. You were a kid. You did what you had to do to survive.”
“But I knew what he was like,” I say, the guilt gnawing at me. “I knew, and I stayed quiet. I let him get away with it.”
Matthew shifts beside me, his voice low but firm. “You didn’t let him get away with anything, Dylan. You were scared. You were trying to protect yourself. That’s all you could have done back then.”
I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “But maybe if I had said something, those girls wouldn’t have—”
“No,” Matthew interrupts, his hand squeezing my ankle. “This isn’t on you. Brock is the one responsible for what he did. Not you.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe that none of this is my fault. But deep down, there’s this tiny voice telling me that I could have done more. That I could have stopped him from hurting anyone else.
The news continues in the background, more details about Brock’s arrest, more statements from the victims. It’s like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
“I need to do something,” I say suddenly, my voice shaky but determined.
Ford frowns, his hand still resting on my shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“I need to go to the police station,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I can fully process them. “I need to make a statement. If I come forward, it’ll help the case against him. It’ll give those other girls more credibility.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Jacob asks, his brow furrowed with concern. “You don’t owe anyone anything, Dylan. You’ve moved on.”
“I know,” I say, my heart pounding. “But I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I can’t keep pretending that what he did didn’t happen. If my statement can help those girls… I have to do it.”
The room falls silent, everyone processing what I’ve just said.
“We’ll all go,” Matthew says, his voice steady. “You don’t have to face this by yourself, Dylan.”
I nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. I’m not alone. I’ve never been alone, not since I found my way to these three amazing men, to this life.
I look around at the faces of the men I love—Ford, Jacob, Matthew. They’re here for me, in a way I never thought anyone would be. They don’t just stand beside me; they lift me up when I feel like I’m falling apart.
