I got up and began grabbing whatever I could reach and throwing it against the walls. I ripped at fabric that found its way into my hands. Books hit the floor, glass shattered.
The lights flipped on, and I found myself staring at the remnants of a broken picture frame. Glass was all over the floor.
In a million pieces.
Beyond repair.
Oh God.
Despair curled through me as I turned to face Caleb. He’d needed me to support him through this, and I’d lost my temper instead. I’d gone on a rampage when he’d needed me to just listen, to hold him.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I expected to find him cowering in one of the far corners of the bed, but instead, he was standing next to it, one arm crossed over his chest and holding the other arm.
“I’m sorry,” I said. A bitter taste filled my mouth and I wondered if I’d actually throw up right there in front of him. God knew I was feeling sick enough for that.
“Come back to bed,” Caleb said as he held out his hand to me. “Watch the glass,” he added. There was absolutely no fear in his eyes as he waited patiently for me to take his hand.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. My skin felt like it was on fire and thelast thing I wanted to do was remain still. I needed to move – to run or hit orsomething.I needed… I needed… God, I needed to not feel.
Disgust filtered through every cell and nerve ending. Caleb had needed me to be strong and I’d done this. When Caleb took a step forward, I reached out and grabbed his hand so he wouldn’t step into the glass. I moved back toward the bed and sat down, but Caleb wasn’t satisfied. “Move up toward the headboard,” he murmured.
I did as he said. I leaned my back against the headboard and stretched my legs out in front of me. I was expecting him to do the same thing next to me, but he surprised me when he carefully straddled my lap. His knees came to rest next to my hips and his groin was pressed against my abdomen. His arms wrapped around my neck and he pressed his forehead against mine.
In any other scenario, the position would have turned me on. But sex was the very last thing on my mind, and I knew it wasn’t on Caleb’s either.
No, he’d picked this position for a reason. Maybe so he could be as close to me as possible. Maybe because he knew I needed the same thing while he finished his story. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. He was in my arms where I could keep him safe.
“My plan was to go back to my tent,” Caleb began, and I closed my eyes and willed the nausea rolling violently around in my belly to settle.
“My dad told me not to move. Then he and Mr. Jennings started talking. I could tell Mr. Jennings was shocked by what had happened.”
“He was the headmaster at your school, right?”
Caleb nodded. “He and my dad had gone to high school together or something, I think. That’s how they knew each other. The school he worked for was very exclusive and I think he helped get me and Nick admitted.”
I nodded in understanding.
“I was kind of out of it, so I missed some of what my dad said to Mr. Jennings. But then my dad started yelling at him and telling him he needed to take his turn so he’d be more inclined to keep his mouth shut. I… I didn’t understand what he meant at first.”
“He wanted Jennings to be just as culpable so he wouldn’t tell anyone what your dad and Rush did,” I murmured.
Caleb nodded. He let out a brutal sob. “I didn’t think he’d do it.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” I whispered over and over again until he settled. He tucked his face against my neck and I could feel the warmth of his tears sliding down my skin.
“He kept saying he was sorry,” Caleb said. “Even as he grabbed my arm and forced me over this log. When he pushed inside of me, when I began to cry, when I begged him to stop…I’m sorry, Caleb… he just kept repeating it. When he was finished, I heard him yelling at my dad. He was upset because he saw that my dad had recorded the whole thing with his phone. Collateral, my dad called it.” Caleb managed to pull in a few breaths. “When I saw Mr. Jennings at school the next Monday, he pulled me into his office. I was so scared he was going to do it again. But he began sobbing and then got on his knees in front of me and begged me to forgive him. That he’d done it only because my father had made him and that he cared about me and hadn’t meant to hurt me. He… he threatened to kill himself because he felt so terrible. I believed him,” Caleb murmured.
I had no doubt the sick fuck had put on quite a show to convince Caleb to keep quiet.
“I told him I forgave him. He said he’d find a way to help me – to make my father stop hurting me. He just kept promising over and over again that he’d fix it.”
Caleb’s whispered words as we’d fled from the shooting at the Jennings’ house rang in my ears.
He promised.
“I believed him,” Caleb said. “I kept waiting for it to stop. I was foolish enough to believe Mr. Jennings could somehow make it so my dad would stop what he was doing, but still be my dad. But it didn’t stop and every time I confronted Mr. Jennings, he said he was still working on it.”
