Unspoken (The Woodlands) (26 page)

“People say stuff like that to other people. Why is it so shocking when it’s said to the target directly?” I argued. I didn’t know why I was defending these people. The things that were said were vile and hurtful, and maybe I was in shock, but the surreal nature of the whole situation was getting to me. “I guess because I’d envisioned something like this happening…when it did it was almost déjà vu. I’d already lived it, and I kind of felt like all these people and their assumptions and their time spent making up stories about me must mean either I’m super interesting or they’re super boring.” I’d remember these things tomorrow and the next day and weeks from now and I’d feel awash with mortification, but for tonight I just wanted to pretend it would be okay. Fake it until I could make it so. The thing that was making me sick in my belly, though, was my mother. I got up and went into my bedroom and pulled out the notes that Clay had sent me.

“I’m worried about my mom, Ellie.” My voice cracked a little as I handed the pieces of paper to her. Five in all.

“What the hell are these?” she asked, reading them and then passing them over to Sasha and Brian.

“Part of the reason I stayed away from campus was because of these,” I confessed.

“How long have you been getting these?” Ellie demanded.

At Sasha and Brian’s questioning looks, I explained, “Clay’s dad knows Roger. I’m afraid that if Roger knew about the rumors he wouldn’t support my mom.”

Sasha carried the bottle of vodka over. “We’re going to need a lot of liquor to carry us through this shit.”

“I got one every time I returned from break, whether it was summer, fall, or Christmas, one of these would be on my windshield.”

“He was fucking terrorizing you. These are an Honor Code violation.” Ellie was enraged and shook the pieces of paper at me.

“Maybe they were, but what was the point? It wasn’t like I wanted to go back onto campus, hook up with the Central social scene. Do you think I
liked
what went on tonight?” I cried.

This sobered everyone up and Ellie said, “No, sorry, but why wouldn’t you share this with me?”

“Because it was too damn embarrassing. I am still so embarrassed,” I whimpered. Ellie drew me into her embrace, her tiny body trying to suck out the pain from mine. I felt the stroke of Sasha’s hand on my back and a warm cheek on the top of my head. Within the cocoon of love made by my friends, I allowed myself to release a little of the shame I’d carried for so long. I hadn’t even realized that I’d felt like I’d deserved it. Oh, I’d said all the right things, telling myself and Ellie and anyone else that it didn’t matter what anyone said about me. But deep down, guilt ate away at me. Guilt for drinking too much. Guilt for giving away my virginity like it was nothing more than a kiss. Guilt at allowing myself to be victimized. So much guilt that I avoided Central because the whole campus and all of its students had become the witnesses to my shame.

“You don’t have any reason to be ashamed,” Ellie whispered into my hair.

“I know that in my head, but it’s hard to convince my heart,” I confessed.

“AM, you are the strongest, most amazing chick I know,” Sasha said, adding, “I’d have folded like a house of cards.”

“I’m like my father, you know?” I said.

“My God, you’re not,” Ellie protested.

“I am. Roger hates conflict. He’d rather go on conducting a double life than face making a decision and dealing with the fallout. And I’m the shameful product of his own failings.” I realized then how deep my hurt ran. I’d pretended that I didn’t care what Roger thought of me and that the love of my wonderful mother was enough. But the two of them had taught me that hiding and secrecy was a normal way of life.

I just didn’t want to live like that anymore. I wasn’t sure why Bo ran away from me, but he was right. I needed to stand up for myself.

I sat up and wiped my eyes with the heels of my hands. Taking a deep breath and giving my friends a watery smile, I said, “I’m not going to play ostrich or victim anymore. I’m going to go on campus and, eventually, they’ll all be tired of talking about me and move on. When I made myself scarce, it became too enticing for them to make up stories. When they see me doing normal things, like studying in the library or eating in the cafeteria, it won’t be such a production. I mean, how much longer can that story be of interest?”

“We’re totally with you,” Sasha said. Brian nodded his own affirmation, and Ellie wrapped her arm around my shoulders.

“With you.”

All these months, I’d felt alone, but that was a misery of my own making. I had wonderful friends and, if I could fix it, a pretty amazing boyfriend.

Chapter Twenty-Two

BO

I
COULDN
’
T
CATCH
MY
BREATH
.
I ran like a five-year-old at his first Halloween, scared at the sight of a
Scream
mask. The look of shock in AM’s face was the only thing I could see whether my eyes were open or closed. I’d made her scared. After being so careful, I’d hit something in front of AM. I hadn’t hit her, but was this how it started with my dad?

The fear that had haunted me my whole life. The demon that chased me from Texas to Afghanistan. The very reason I hated thinking instead of doing was threatening to rise up and swallow me.

I ran, trying to leave it behind me. I ran, trying to outrace my past. I ran from AM’s fear, from my fear, from everything until I realized running wasn’t my answer.

Panting, I pulled up and jacked a number into my phone.

“Yes?”

“I need a fight. A big one. Someone who legitimately stands a chance at beating my sorry ass. Do you have someone like that or do you just trade in little girls dressed up and pretending to be men?” I snarled.

“Come to the Casino. We’ll hook you up.”

“Twenty minutes,” I confirmed.

I ran back to my car, which I’d left in AM’s parking lot. I tried to think only of the lights of the Casino, the raised boxing stage, the springy mats. I envisioned the type of opponent I would have and how I’d feint and jab. Do a power kick.

I sped out of the lot as fast as I could, thinking that distance would help me forget her, but all I could see was her hair spread across my pillow. Her lips swollen from my kisses. Her body flushed with arousal. Her face white with fear.
Fuck me.

My hands twitched with the desire—no, the need—to get back to AM and throw myself at her feet so I could beg for forgiveness. But I forced myself forward. I was too afraid to go back. Too afraid I was going to use my fists on something other than the wall. I ignored the pain in my gut, the coin burning a hole in my pocket, and the wetness on my cheeks to prepare for the fight ahead.

The lights of the Casino blinded me as I pulled into a reserved spot for employees near the rear entrance. I pulled out my gym bag out of the trunk and unzipped it. There were shorts, a wife beater, and some wraps. No shoes. I didn’t need shoes. Grabbing the bag, I went to the staff entrance and pounded. It opened immediately to reveal Noah, Finn, Adam, and Mal. The four of them wore thunderous looks.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I barked.

“That’s the same damn question I have for you,” Noah spat back.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to fight.” I lifted my gym bag.

“You look like you were in a fight already and lost it,” Mal observed, his nonthreatening voice making the words seem all the more disheartening. It was Mal’s connections that likely brought them all trooping out here. Either that or someone from the fighting community ratted me out to Noah.

I rubbed a hand down my face. On top of everything, I didn’t need a lecture from these guys, who were supposed to have my back.

“Am I five?” I asked Noah.

“No,” he replied.

“Then I get to make my own decisions. I’m going in to fight, and either you guys are with me or you go home.” I waited, arms crossed. Noah and I stared at each like gunfighters in the old west, but finally he gave in and moved aside.

“I’ve got your back, always,” Noah said as I brushed by him. “It’s just that sometimes that means keeping you from danger instead of running behind you into it.”

“We were Marines. We laugh in the face of danger. We
lean
the goddamn whole way into danger.”

“If we’re smart Marines, we avoid it until we have a plan to defeat it.”

“I’m trying to defeat it right now, Noah,” I told him tiredly.

Noah sighed. “Okay then. Let’s go beat the shit out of danger.”

AM

T
HE
BUZZING
WAS
INCESSANT
.
I thought it was my dream, but then I realized it was someone downstairs wanting to come up. Ellie wasn’t responding. I dragged myself out of bed and answered the phone in the kitchen.

“Whosit?” I mumbled.

“Noah Jackson. Can you let me up? It’s urgent.”

“Um, yeah.” I pressed the access code. I was barely awake, and Bo’s roommate and best friend was bringing urgent business to my apartment at a godforsaken time in the morning. I peered blearily at the microwave. The clock said it was two in the morning. A knock, more like a pounding, woke me from my reverie. I walked like a zombie and opened the door. The sight at my doorstep jerked me out of my stupor.

Noah and Finn held a beaten, nearly unrecognizable man between them. Noah immediately muscled his way inside, pushing me aside. “Sorry,” he said, but he wasn’t sorry at all. “Which bedroom is yours?”

I pointed numbly down the hall. None of my synapses were firing here. I couldn’t really process this scene or having a half-bloodied man being dragged into my apartment and put on my bed. “Is that Bo?”

“Yes,” was the clipped response from Noah.

The sounds of our voices must have roused him because I heard noises coming the battered and bruised face. I crept toward the bed.

Bo’s eyes were both swollen shut. He had cuts above his eye. His nose was taped. There were abrasions on both cheeks and a cut on his right cheek. His upper lip was split and swollen.

I leaned down because I couldn’t make out what he was saying. “I’m sorry, AM,” he breathed against me. “So sorry.” I didn’t realize I was crying until I saw tears drip down on top of his cheek. He winced slightly, a tiny drawing up of his cheekbones. Even that small pressure was painful. My heart clenched.

“What’s going on?” I hissed at Noah, trying to keep my voice low so that I wouldn’t wake Bo again if he passed out.

Noah avoided my question, but instead gestured for me to help me him undress Bo. The jeans were bloodsoaked in spots, particularly on the thighs. Noah unsnapped the shirt that was thrown over Bo and pulled it out from under him. Each movement made Bo wince and moan. But Noah got Bo down to his boxer briefs, and I threw a blanket over him, not wanting to look at the desecration made of his body. His hand crept out from under the blankets. I looked at it but made no move to take it. Noah knelt down and grabbed the hand.

“I’m here, buddy. What do you need?” His tone was almost motherly, soothing.

“AM,” Bo groaned.

I came over and knelt down beside Noah. He removed his hand, and I laid my head on Bo’s outstretched palm. It was the one thing on his body that seemed to be unhurt. I pressed my cheek against it and turned my head to the side. “Shhh. I’ll be here when you wake up.” This promise seemed to settle him. He pulled his hand out from under my cheek and placed it on top of my hair, tangling his fingers in the threads of my messy bed hair.

Noah had dragged my chair up to the bed and pulled out his phone. He propped his feet up on the edge of the bed. He fiddled with his phone and then dropped it on his lap. I hadn’t even noticed that Finn had left.

“What’s going on?” I asked again, unmoving. Bo’s hand lay warm but firm above me. When I shifted, his hand tightened and he moaned in distress. “Shh,” I tried to soothe him, stuffing down my anger.

“Why haven’t you taken him to the hospital?”

Noah’s breath gusted out, like it was some big ordeal to tell me what the hell had happened to Bo.

“I can’t. Bo’s condition would place the whole fight ring under scrutiny. No one would allow him to fight again, and a lot of people would get into trouble. Besides, I had him checked out by someone I trust.”

“Maybe it would be a good thing if he doesn’t fight again,” I whispered furiously. I was trying to keep my voice down, but it was hard, given how much I ached to yell at Noah, throw some things around, and just generally shout out my unhappiness. This was insane.

“He’s been in worse conditions.”

“Where? In Afghanistan, where you were fighting insurgents and dodging bombs? I mean, really, Noah, why can’t you leave that behind?” I stood and started pacing.

“Itemize his injuries for me,” I demanded.

Noah dully starting listing them off. “Possible concussion. Multiple contusions on the face, over the eye and cheekbones. Nose surprisingly not broken but damaged. Possible rib fracture, definitely rib bruising. Then just more contusions on the thighs and legs.”

“Contusions? Speak English.”