Shut Out (22 page)

“She hasn't spoken to you?” I frown. “Not at all?”

Her bottom lip quivers. “Nope. She's still pissed at me.” She shrugs, but her throat works. “Whatever.”

“Didn't you tell her the truth about what happened? What Brendan did?”

“She doesn't want to hear about it.” She rolls her eyes. “Nice change of subject, though.”

“Ah, right.” I shove my hands in my jacket pockets.

“You never told me about that, Jacob. You never told me you raped a girl.”

Fuck
! “I did not!” I shout the words, horrified.

“It was in all the news. They kicked you off the team.”

I stare at her, pulling a hand out of my pocket to rub my aching stomach.

She shakes her head. “I can't believe that. Stupid me. And stupid me for…oh, never mind. Just go. Please.” She opens the door.

“No, let me tell you what happened, Sky. Please. You don't know the whole story.”

“I don't
want
to know the whole story.” She shakes her head. “Get. Out.”

A gajillion thoughts are tumbling around in my head. She actually believes I raped someone. She's not the first one, but she's the first person who really knows me who believes it. My parents believed me. My friends at home believed me. Buck even believed me when I told him. But Skylar…the person I think knows me the best…she doesn't believe me.

My belly muscles go rigid, hot pressure building inside me. My chest feels like someone just drilled a puck into it.

I know I screwed up, but not nearly as badly as she thinks I did. And I know my attitude has changed after being here, being with her, going through that training. But I was so tired of defending myself after that happened, trying to explain the truth to people who didn't believe me. That shit hurt. And I'm not going to do it now. If she thinks that little of me, then she's not the friend I thought she was.

I make my feet move. “I can't believe you think so little of me without hearing my side of things. I'm out.” I stride away, not looking at her.

Classes are done and it's study period, with exams starting later this week. I just want to get it done with. Some of the pressure has eased, knowing that I just have to get through this and the next semester will be different. I've already got my courses picked out and I'm thrilled with them. I've heard good things about the profs. I want to get on with it. And yet, I can't blow things off this semester. I still want to do well.

Which tells me something. The pressure to do well wasn't just coming from my parents—it was coming from inside me.

How about that.

I got a long email from my mom, telling me that they never expected me to be a doctor like Elisha and that they will support whatever I want to do. She said she was shocked when I said that, the day we had lunch after church, because she thought
I
wanted to be a doctor. She apologized for making me feel I had to be like Elisha, because they love me and are as proud of me as they are of her. I can still think of so many times they made me feel I didn't live up, but I can now also see that I was putting pressure on myself. Pressure to try to be as good as Elisha, when really I
am
as good as her…I'm just different.

Mom also asked how they could support me after the rape, and I sent her some links to websites she and Dad could go to for information.

The night classes end is our pizza fundraiser at Santorelli. We've got some great prize donations—thanks in large part to Jacob. Santorelli is donating the pizza, which is being sold at a cheaper-than-usual price to entice all the students. Of course, they're ordering drinks and other stuff too, so the restaurant is still making money.

The Italian restaurant is crowded, everyone letting loose a little before exams start. A lot of the Bears are there, hanging out, laughing with people, signing the affirmative consent pledge. And I know there are a lot of other people there because of that. It makes my chest hurt to see this. Jacob really came through.

He's there too, sitting at the table with Grace, selling silent auction tickets and charming people into spending more money than they wanted to with his easy smile and chin dimple. I can't stop looking at him. Doubts have been nudging me. I remember the stiff, hurt look on his face when he walked out.

I wish I had more to do, but things are so well organized, the event is practically running itself.

With a glass of lemonade in my hand, I lean against the wall, talking to Grace.

“This is going great,” she says happily. “You did a fantastic job, Skylar.”

“Thanks.”

She bumps my hip. “And Jacob did a ton of work. He's so awesome.”

I say nothing and inspect my drink.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Oh yeah.” People keep asking me that, so clearly I don't look okay. I have to do a better job of keeping my happy face on. I give her a wide smile. “So after our last exam, we're going out to celebrate, right?”

“Right!”

We discovered we both finish the afternoon of the twentieth, and our plan is to go straight from the exam to the bar. I think I might not stop drinking until New Year's.

Ha. I'm exaggerating, of course. Sort of.

But I've been sticking to my plan, trying to make new friends and move on with my life.

“I need another piece of pizza.” Grace pushes away from the wall. “Want one?”

“Yeah. Sure. Pepperoni.”

I haven't had much of an appetite lately, but I'm faking that tonight too. And Santorelli's pizza really is the best.

I glance over at the ticket table and this time my gaze collides with Jacob's, who's watching me. He doesn't look happy right at that moment either.

An ache blooms in my chest, a throbbing longing. I miss him so much.

I can't take my eyes off him.

I hate him.

No, I don't.

Fuck, I'm mixed up.

It's so hard to stop thinking about him, and what he did. Or what he was accused of. After I tortured myself by Googling him and reading everything there was to find about that incident, I learned that there wasn't enough evidence to lay charges. He claimed he wasn't even there. There were some people who confirmed he went upstairs with that girl and his teammates. There were also some who said they'd seen him leave shortly after. So it was never proved that he did anything. He did get kicked off his hockey team, though.

I hate him, but I find myself aching for him. Then reminding myself he's an asshole and deserves everything he's gotten.

I close my eyes against a wave of pain, turning away from him.

“Skylar.”

I look up and he's standing there in front of me.

“Hi.”

I can't even talk. My throat thickens and a burning rushes up my esophagus.

He looks pretty much like I feel—conflicted and miserable. “I wish you'd talk to me,” he says quietly.

“There's nothing to say.”

“
I
have some things to say.”

I shake my head and turn away from him.

“Wait.” He curls a hand over my arm, gently. “Did you tell your parents about changing your major when you were home at Thanksgiving?”

I stare at him. “Yes.”

“How did they take it?”

“Well, they say they'll support me in whatever I want to do.” I bite my lip. “I also told them what happened with Brendan.”

“Jesus.”

I give a dry laugh. “It wasn't my intention, but I think that might've made the news about changing my major a little less disturbing.” I shrug. “They say their main concern is that I'm okay.”

“Of course it is. It should be.”

I nod.

He pauses again, his gaze intent on me. “I really am sorry, Sky. I never wanted to hurt you.”

My spine stiffens with pride. “You haven't hurt me.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, then.”

“Thanks for helping out tonight.”

Grace returns then and hands me a plate with a piece of pizza on it. “Hey, Jacob. How's it going?”

“Good. Done my shift.” He bestows a gorgeous smile on Grace. “Seems like a successful evening.”

“I think so! Thank you for all you did. It's so awesome having the hockey team here.”

“Well.” Jacob looks at me again. “I have to go. The guys are going out before we have to lock ourselves up to study.”

I nod.

“See you, Jacob. And thanks again.” Grace smiles at him.

He gives us a wave, gives me a long, tortured look that has my heart splintering into tiny pieces, and walks out of the restaurant. I stare down at my pizza, my eyes burning. Damn.

I'm in bed reading. I've tried a couple times to get to sleep and it's nearly one-thirty in the morning but I'm not sleepy. I hear the front door open and close and then slow footsteps coming up the stairs.

Usually I can tell by the steps who it is—Ella's are always quick, Natalie's are heavier, and Brooklyn's are slow and measured. These steps are slow and uneven.

A soft knock on my door has my head turning. I frown. “Yeah?”

The door opens and Ella's head pokes in. I blink at her tear-streaked face and smudged eye makeup. Dropping my Kindle, I sit up straight. “Ella. Are you okay?”

She nods. “I am now.”

“What happened?” I push my hands into the mattress, prepared to jump out of bed.

“Long story.” She pauses. “Can we talk?”

My heart bumps. “Of course.”

I chew on my bottom lip as she comes into my room, closing the door behind her. She sits on the foot of the bed. She's wearing a short black skirt, black boots, and a loose flowered top. She reaches down and unzips the boots, pushes them off, and lets them thud to the rug beside my bed.

I'm waiting.

“I went to Curly's tonight.”

My lips push out. The Bears' hangout. Did she see Jacob?

“I was there with Jack Jones. He plays for the Bears.”

I nod. I know who Jack is. I've met him a few times, and I think he's the only hockey player on the team I don't like.

“We were flirting and having fun, and making out a little. I drank too much.” Her words are a little slurry, so I already figured that part out. “I was going to leave with him and then Jacob came up to us and started talking. He asked Jack if he wanted to stay for another drink.”

I blink. At first I don't get it. Jacob was trying to get them to drink more?

“Jack said no, we were leaving. Then Jacob told Jack not to do it. He told Jack I was too drunk to be able to consent.”

Oh. Now I get it. Jacob was using some of the Step In techniques to try to distract Jack. When that didn't work he got more direct.

“And then…Jack got pissed. And I started crying because…because…what have I been doing, Sky?”

Tears flood my eyes. “Oh, Ella.” I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze.

“Jacob brought me home. I was a mess.” A small sob escapes her. “I said an awful thing to him. When he first came up to us. Knowing what he'd been involved in…” She shakes her head. “Never mind. Even though I was a bitch to him, he looked after me and made sure I got home okay.” She peeks up through wet eyelashes. “He told me I should talk to you about Brendan.”

“Oh.” My stomach cramps. My fingers start shaking and I curl them in my bedspread. “I've been trying to talk to you about it since that morning you read the text messages he sent me.”

She nods. “I know. I didn't want to hear. I was so hurt, Sky. I loved him. I can't believe you didn't figure that out. And I can't believe you slept with him.”

“I didn't. Exactly.” I pause, willing myself to say the words. “He forced me.”

Her mouth goes slack. “What?”

My inhalation is shaky. “We were at his place, studying. After, we had a couple beers. I swear, Ella, he was just a friend to me. We were joking around and I don't know why…he told me he loved me and started kissing me.”

“He was in love with you.” She says the words with quiet resignation.

“No, Ella.” I shake my head. Jacob made me realize this. “He didn't really love me. I don't know why he said he did.” I pause. “I admit, I let him kiss me for a few minutes, I'm not sure why. Maybe I was curious. But there was nothing there, no attraction…it was weird. But when I tried to stop him, he wouldn't.”

“No.” She covers her mouth with her hands.

“Yes. He forced me down and…and…I told him no, I didn't want to do it. I've relived it so many times. I know I could have done things differently. I could have fought back harder. I don't know if he would have hurt me…He was strong and pretty determined and…I was afraid.”

“He wouldn't do that.” She stares at me, misery and disbelief etched on her face. “Brendan would never do something like that.”

“And this is why I wasn't sure I should tell you.” I make a face. “I know you don't want to believe that of him. Hell,
I
didn't want to believe it of him. We were friends, and I felt so betrayed and hurt after. I was so angry at him. That's why I wasn't answering his calls or his texts. I didn't want to see him. I felt so…violated, and I didn't know what to do.”

“Skylar.” Her voice breaks on the word. “Why didn't you tell me?”

I shake my head. “I couldn't tell
anyone.
I was so mixed up. He kept calling and texting me, saying he was sorry, and he loved me and he wanted to talk to me. I ignored him. I wouldn't talk to him. It was three days later…he committed suicide.” Tears fill my eyes too now. “Then I
really
couldn't talk about it. The guilt was
killing
me, Ella. I felt I was responsible for him taking his life.”

She bites her lip. I can see what she's thinking.

“You think so too.” I look away. “That's okay. I know why you think that. But I know now that the only one responsible for him taking his own life was him. He must have felt so guilty about what he'd done. I felt horrible. I wanted to die myself. It was such a burden, eating away inside me.”

“I don't know what to say.”

I nod. “I know. It's complicated. I didn't want to tell you, even after you read those texts. Because he was our friend, and you loved him and he did a terrible thing. Jacob told me I should be honest with you, and when I went home for Thanksgiving, I did a lot of thinking. I told my family about it, and I realized I needed to tell you too. There's been this…this…
wall
between us ever since…because of that.”

She nods. “I know. I felt it. Something was different, but I didn't know what.”

“So. Now you do.” I rub my mouth, watching her. “I didn't know you loved him and I certainly didn't do anything with the intent of hurting you. It was awful. But at least it's out there and I've been honest with you.”

She sits there for a long moment, not meeting my eyes.

I pull in a deep breath. “I hope you can understand, Ella. Because I won't let people victim-blame me. I did enough of that myself, and when I was at my lowest and decided to get help, I vowed I wasn't going to allow anyone to do that to me. So if you can't get past it, then…” My throat squeezes shut. “Then we really can't be friends.”

She slides off my bed. She seems less drunk now, but she's still a mess. “I really don't know what to think…or how to feel. I guess I need to process it.”

I nod.

At my door, she pauses. “Skylar…”

“Yeah?”

“I looked at everything on Brendan's phone. To see if there was anything else…any other clue about why he committed suicide. There was something else going on with him. He emailed his psychiatrist the day he…” She swallows. “…raped you. Saying he was struggling. It sounded like…he'd cheated on a test and the prof caught him.”

My eyes fly open wide and my hands go to my mouth. “What?”