I clench my fists, remembering the smell of Scotch on his breath and his punchy cologne in my nostrils.
“I reached for the tie, to help. And I made some comment about how his shirt wasn’t buttoned. I think he missed one or something, and he stared down at me, with these eyes I’d never seen before. They were dark and hollow. And the next thing I knew he’d pushed me up against the chest of drawers and was all over me. I tried to push him back, but he was so strong.”
I stare down at the floorboards, picking at a loose thread on the stitching of my dress.
“It wasn’t until the wedding planner walked in, a member of Phoebe’s team, that he pulled away. She ran straight to Phoebe of course. I told her what happened, that Cliff came onto me, but she didn’t believe me. She told me I was jealous of her happiness. That I wanted to ruin her relationship because I couldn’t find one of my own. I hid in my car, until the ceremony was over, waiting until I could go back in and get my belongings. But I swear, I wasn’t coming onto him. I genuinely thought I was helping him. Putting in an effort because Phoebe asked me to. But she was my best friend, I would never—”
I take a breath, the tears falling harder now.
“After the wedding community turned on me, I started to believe that maybe I had been in the wrong. That maybe I had given him some sign. That I was the bad guy after all.”
“You weren’t the bad guy, he was,” Hudson tells me, reaching for my hand.
“Then why does Phoebe hate me? Why did everyone stop talking to me.”
It is the question that has circled my thoughts for longer than I care to admit, and now doubt creeps in. If I was really the victim, wouldn’t she have heard me out?
“Mira, you were violated. And you lost someone you thought you could trust in the process. It’s fucked up. And I’m so sorry that happened to you. But none of it is your fault. You have to believe that.”
“I want to. I really do. But every time I think about it, of Phoebe choosing him, it hurts all over.”
“I know.” Hudson wraps an arm around me. “But I’m here for you, okay. You’re safe. And I believe you. I’ll always believe you.”
I sink into him, burying my head in his chest. He rests his chin on my head, stroking my hair, repeating it over and over. “I believe you.”
And for the first time the weight that’s been pressing down on me finally feels a little lighter.
32 Hudson
Mira’s tears sink into my shirt, but I don’t care. She can stay here and cry until I’m completely soaked through, because after the story she just told me, I’d do anything for her to feel safe. I’ve never been one to hold onto anger, but finding out that Mira feels so guilty after some asshole assaulted her, and her so-called best friend had the gall to make her the villain rather than face the fact that she was about to marry a grade-a douchebag, makes my blood boil. And to know that she’s been holding onto this, letting it eat away at her for months, makes me squeeze her tighter.
Seeing her this vulnerable, this raw, is new, and I’m glad that she feels comfortable enough to show that side of herself, that she can trust me not to let her fall. But I can’t help but wonder why this is all coming up now. I know that trauma doesn’t have a timeline, but something must have triggered this, right?
I want to ask her, but the answer comes to me when I hear Grant’s voice boom from the entryway.
“Mira?” he calls, and my fists clench with irritation.
“What did he do?” I ask, pulling away just enough to see her face. “I swear, if he touched you ...”
“Not me,” she says, as I catch sight of Katherine, stumbling out behind him.
I’m already out of the car and rushing at him before he knows what’s happening. Grant may have five inches on me, but I use his intoxication to my advantage as I shove my weight against his ribs, knocking him off balance. He barely has time to steady himself before I pull back and punch him right in the face.
The sound of bone against bone echoes into the night and he falls back onto the concrete.
“What the fuck, Hudson?” Katherine shouts, hunkering beside Grant to assess the damage. From here I can see that his eye is already swelling, the thin skin of his cheek inflamed.
Adrenaline pulses through me as I stare down at my stepbrother. I’ve wanted to punch Grant for years. From the first time he bullied me so badly I slept in the woods in an attempt to get away from him, with nothing but my book and a flashlight. Or the day I found out he purposefully asked the girl I liked on a date, only to stand her up. But through all those events, I kept it together. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. But knowing that his actions have hurt Mira breaks my resolve.
Grant groans when Katherine helps him off the ground.
“As soon as we get back I want your shit out of the apartment,” I shout, anger coursing through me. “Hire a moving company, send me the bill. Because I’m done.”
Katherine stands there stunned, her eyes glued to me as I walk back to the Jeep. Mira has her knees pulled into her chest, her eyes still swollen from crying, as I pull out of the lot and onto the road. We make the drive in silence, my hand never leaving hers.
I park the car in front of the Big Barn but neither of us move to get out.
“I can’t go back to that room,” Mira says, and I nod my head in solidarity.
