Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
RAINE
R estraining orders are no joke. Everett was pissed when we first walked in, but we gave our statements and filled out a shit-ton of paperwork. The main thing that stuck with me since then is how I should’ve taken more pictures. Officer McDonnell was…kind, I think. A little robotic, maybe, but a decent listener despite Everett’s constant death glare. I’ll give him that much.
They’re still digging into how Drake sent the videos to everyone at one time. Who knows who else he sent it to outside of LAU. His friends? His teammates? I wouldn’t put it past him.
Or maybe not, since it shows his precious ex-girlfriend being intimate with someone who isn’t him. My nose wrinkles at the reminder of our connection. Physically. Emotionally. Socially.
I can’t believe I dated him. Part of me wants to go home and scrub my skin until it’s raw. The other part? It wants to curl into a ball and sleep for a week, but only if Everett holds me while I do.
It didn’t help when Officer McDonnell had to watch the video, either. My stomach twisted, and I played with my fingers in my lap, unable to look up or do…anything at all, really. Not since I saw everyone’s faces while they watched the video last night.
Everett’s phone has been ringing off the hook. Or at least it was until Everett sent a mass text to all our friends, telling them to give us some space, and turned it off so it wasn’t a distraction. Honestly, I’m almost grateful I handed mine over to Officer McDonnell. At least I don’t have to deal with it for a little while.
I can feel Everett watching me from the driver’s side. He’s been staring at me constantly since the video. Part of me wants to tell him I’m okay. Part of me wants to ask why he keeps looking at me like I’m a ticking time bomb. Part of me wants to disappear entirely. Instead, I’ve stayed silent. Besides, what exactly am I supposed to say? Sorry I dragged you into this? Sorry your dick has now been recorded and passed around to everyone you know? I mean, it’s a really nice dick. Thick, long, impressive. He has nothing to be ashamed of on that front, but it still doesn't make it okay or any less violating.
Seriously, what the hell am I thinking? I’m exhausted, and it’s clear I’m not the only one. I can’t tell if Everett’s frustrated with me or just the situation in general, but he’s been mostly quiet since we left the precinct last night. When Everett pulls the car into the Bean Scene’s parking lot, then disappears inside, only to return with two cups of coffee a few minutes later, I almost cry.
He didn’t ask if I wanted to go in with him. I'm grateful but can't help being curious if he’s embarrassed by me now. If he doesn’t want to be seen with me anymore. Not near LAU’s campus. It’s stupid. It takes two people to tango, and we were both in the video, but it doesn’t make me feel any better, and it doesn’t erase the fact that I was the one on my knees. The one who’s now been filmed multiple times against my will. He’ll be labeled a player. Me? I’ll be labeled a slut. A whore.
I can’t convince myself to ask what he’s thinking. To ask if he’s okay or if he’s mad at me or if…if he’s ashamed.
“Hey.” Everett offers me a cup, and I force my body to respond. To move. To do something other than drown in my own pity party.
Taking the cup from him, I bring it to my lips and blow on the small hole until a whimper escapes me.
“Hey,” he repeats. This time it’s less of a greeting and more of an attempt to comfort me. To put me back together again. Reaching across the console, he tugs me into him, and I burrow into his chest, careful not to spill my coffee on him. I’m so…exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. God, I feel fucking broken.
“I can’t even blow on a cup of fucking coffee w-without?—”
“Sh…,” he coos. “Sh…it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.”
He squeezes me harder. “You’re right. It isn’t. Nothing he did was okay.”
Nothing he did was okay. He. Not me. Drake. So why the hell am I carrying his burden? It only messes with my head more. I know Drake’s the one with the problem, not me, yet here I am, having a pity party and drowning in shame and misery and disgust.
“I’m so sorry, Ev,” I whisper.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
My eyes well with tears, but I don’t pull away, too afraid if I do, I’ll spiral even further. He’s wrong, though. I do have something to apologize for. Something I’ve been carrying since the moment I saw the video. Honestly? Even before then. When Everett showed up at the cabin after Drake got his hands on him. What kind of sick fuck does these kinds of things?
My eyes burn even more, and I let out a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry because…because I wasn't the only one in the video.”
I wait for him to let me go. To push me away. To tell me he wishes he’d never met me because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He wouldn’t have some psycho recording him through a window like a fucking stalker.
Not like a stalker.
An actual stalker.
Since when did my life turn into a freaking horror movie?
“I don’t give a shit about the video,” Everett rasps against the crown of my head. “I give a shit about you . All right? I’m fucking crumbling right now because of what this bastard has put you through. What he’s still managing to put you through, despite our best attempt to make him go away.”
I let out a shaky breath and twist the fabric of his shirt in my hands as I breathe him in. Cedar. Pine. Like the trees surrounding the cabin. And rain. Fresh. Clean. Rain. It makes me want to burrow under his skin and never come out again.
“I love you, Raine,” he murmurs.
My pulse spikes, and I hold my breath, convinced I heard him wrong. I’m too much of a coward to ask him to repeat himself and confirm I’m right. That he didn’t just drop the L-bomb in the middle of Bean Scene’s parking lot.
“I know right now probably isn’t the best time to tell you this, but I do,” he adds quietly. “I love you so fucking much, and I’m so sorry Drake refuses to leave you alone, but I promise you, baby. I promise he’ll never hurt you again.”
I untuck my head from the crook of his neck and blink slowly, letting the tears fall freely as I hold his icy-blue gaze. I never thought I’d trust someone enough to let them pick up the pieces and put me back together again. Never thought it was even possible. But this man? This man has surprised me more times than I can count, and the idea of him loving me and not knowing I feel the same is worse than anything we’ve been through since we met all those weeks ago. And it’s strange. Because I thought I knew what love was. What it felt like. The truth is? I had no freaking clue. Not until Everett walked into my life, er, not until I walked into his.
Licking the salty tears from my lips, I whisper, “I love you, too, Ev.”
His mouth lifts. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Good. ‘Cause, uh, pretty sure your love is the only thing that’s going to keep you from wanting to stab me.”
“And why would I want to stab you?”
“Because I’ve been fielding your dad’s calls since last night.”
My breath hitches. “What?”
“I’m not sure how he got my number, but when you weren’t answering your phone, he tracked it down.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“Drake, uh,” he scrubs his hand over his face, “Drake sent him the video.”
The video.
The blasted fucking video.
Can I seriously not catch a break?
Rage and defeat and resentment battle within me, threatening to rip me to shreds. I rest my head against his shoulder and pray for strength. “Perfect.”
“I told him we’d stop by.”
“What?”
“I know you probably don’t want to, but if I was in their shoes, I would want to make sure my daughter’s okay, you know?” He drops a kiss to the top of my head. “Don’t hate me. ”
“I don’t hate you,” I whisper. “I hate Drake.”
His chuckle is dry and low as he kisses my hair again. “You’re not the only one. Come on,” he prods. “Drink your coffee. You’re gonna need the caffeine.”
“And here I thought we’d head back to the cabin and sleep for a week.”
“Not yet.” He nudges my head with a gentle pop of his shoulder, and I sit up as he adds, “Soon, though. First, we gotta talk to your parents.”
“Sounds… great .”
A ghost of a smile plays on the edge of his lips, and he shoves his car into drive.
Biting on the inside of my cheek, I lift my hand and rap my knuckles against the front door. I don’t know why I didn’t think Drake would stoop this low. But the idea he would send the video to my dad never even crossed my mind. I think it’s because he knew there would be no going back if he crossed that line. No second chances. Apparently, he’s finally gotten the message, and the gloves are officially off. If only I knew how to throw a punch back at him instead of just cowering in the corner and taking it on the chin.
It’s freezing out. Everett had an extra hoodie in the back of his car, but I left my coat at the house. I was too distracted to grab it when I rushed out the front door like a bat out of hell last night. It’s crazy, though. To think how much has changed in such a short period of time. Life is funny like that, I guess. The way time moves. Sometimes at a snail’s pace. Other times it’s faster than light speed. Now, here I am. On my parents’ front porch. Unable to do anything but knock and wait for their disappointed looks. I should walk in. If it was any other day, I would. This is my family home, so why do I not feel welcome?
“You good?” Everett questions.
“What did you tell him?” I glance at Ev and clarify, “My dad.”
“Nothing other than we’d swing by to chat this morning.”
“Chat,” I repeat.
“Not sure what else you want me to call it.”
He’s right. This isn’t a confession. It’s what? An update? On the culmination of shitty decisions I’ve tried running from to no avail?
Yeah, chat fits fine, I guess.
With a nod, I let it go and face the solid piece of oak, preparing myself for the inevitable.
Footsteps echo on the opposite side of the door before it swings open, and my mom tugs me into a hug.
My body stays stiff for all of two seconds. Then, I wrap my arms around her and close my eyes. “Hey, Mom.”
“I love you. So. Damn. Much.”
I sag into her even more. “I love you, too.”
She squeezes me again, then lets me go and turns to Everett. “I believe your introduction is long past due.”
“Hello, I’m Everett,” he offers. “Everett Taylor.”
“My husband mentioned it.” She tilts her head but doesn’t move away from the doorframe. Don’t get me wrong, my dad and brother are fierce, but my mom? She’s something else, entirely. The woman grew up with religious zealots for parents who kicked her out before she was even a legal adult. After that, she was basically a nomad until she met my dad and managed to tame the grumpy tattoo artist. The rest, as they say, is history. And even though it’s been relatively smooth sailing ever since, anyone who’s met my mom knows she’s not someone to trifle with. And right now, I’m seriously squirming from her scrutiny. Not of me, but Everett. I have a feeling she’s debating on whether or not he should be on her shit list after my long absence. If only she knew he was the one grounding me in this moment. Giving me the strength and courage to stand here and admit my mistakes to two of the people I look up to most.
Tattoos cover her arms and back, though they aren’t on display now. Instead, she’s wrapped in a thick, baby blue sweater, and her long blonde hair is tied into a messy bun on the top of her head. She would almost look welcoming if it wasn’t for her unwavering—and a bit unnerving—gaze. “You’re lucky I’ve been preoccupied with my newest grandbaby,” she adds.
“Congratulations,” Everett offers.
“Thank you.” She glances at me. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long for an introduction.”
“We’ve been…busy,” I lie.
“Busy, huh?” Her lips press into a thin line. “Listen, from what your dad said, Everett’s already been through the wringer, so I won’t push it. I trust your dad’s judgment, but I do want to make sure you’re okay and if there’s anything we can do to help with…whatever the hell’s going on. Unfortunately, because you’ve kept us in the dark, it’s kind of difficult to know what that is.”
I can see the hurt in her eyes. The undertone of disapproval. Not at whatever I need help with, but at my lack of candor. She has every right to disapprove of me keeping them in the dark, though. I know this. It doesn’t make the idea of ripping the Band-Aid off and telling them everything feel any easier, though.
“I know,” I murmur. “I know I’ve screwed up?—”
“Rainbow, we all screw up,” she interjects. “With my history, no one knows it better than I do. Now, your dad’s in the shed out back, working off his pent-up energy thanks to the video we never want to see again. I’m sure he saw the doorbell notification, so I bet he’ll be here in a minute. But before we go any further, I need you to tell me whether or not your friend had anything to do with the video being distributed.”
I grab Everett’s hand and tug him closer to me. “He wasn’t the one who filmed us, let alone shared it. I promise.”
She hesitates, studying Everett again as if she’s a well-seasoned detective. “You trust him, Raine?”
I nod. “With everything.”
“Then I’ll try to do the same.” She turns to Everett again and offers him her hand. “Hello, Everett. Let’s try this one more time. I’m Maddie Anders, Raine’s mom. You can call me Mrs. Anders.”
Everett takes her hand and shakes it once. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anders.”
“You, too,” she replies. “Although I do wish it was under different circumstances.”
Everett’s mouth twitches. “Same.”
“Shall we?”
My mom steps aside, motions for us to come in, and closes the icy chill out with a quiet click of the front door. When my dad rounds the corner from the back of the house, I offer him a pathetic wave, and he picks up his pace.
When he reaches me, he gives me a giant bear hug and grunts, “Who do I need to kill?”
“Dad—”
“You’re right, you’re right.” He lets me go and pins Everett with a stare. “Who do we need to kill?”
Pushing myself between them, I break my dad’s line of sight and interrupt, “There will be no killing!”
“ Yet ,” Everett chimes in from behind me.
My dad smirks. “I knew I liked him.”
“No, you didn’t,” I argue. “You thought he was beating me, remember? ”
“Yeah, and then you introduced us,” my dad volleys back. “I might not be a saint, but I am good at reading people. And so is your mom.” He glances at his wife. “Does he pass your vibe test, Mads?”
“It’s still a little early, but yes. I don’t think he’s the one who did it.”
“I already told you he wasn’t,” I point out.
Ignoring me, my dad scratches his five o’clock shadow and tilts his head. “So the question is, who did ? Or better yet, let’s start at the beginning?” He motions to the soft leather couch in the family room.
The beginning. Right.
I grab Everett’s hand, lead both of us around the arm, and sit on the edge of the sofa while my parents each take a seat on the matching couch across from us. Once they’re seated, my mom crosses one leg over the other and snuggles into my dad’s side as he hangs his arm over the back of the couch, their looks expectant.
Deep breath , I silently remind myself.
I open my mouth and square my shoulders, preparing myself for the inevitable. For the shame and disappointment and?—
“Can I say something before you start?” my mom interjects.
Surprised, I dip my chin in agreement, and Everett slowly tugs me into him.
“Why didn’t you walk in?” she asks.
My brows crease. “What?”
“When you got here. You didn’t walk in like you usually do.”
Feeling tongue-tied, I look down at my hands, unsure what to say or do or…anything really. Because it’s stupid. My reason for knocking. Honestly, I don’t even know if I have a reason. Not one I can put into words, anyway .
“All right, let me say one more thing,” my mom continues. “I don’t care what you’ve done, who you’ve slept with, or what choices you’ve made in your life. I don’t. All I care about is whether or not you’re happy and whether or not you’re safe. Like I’ve already pointed out once today, we both know I wasn’t a saint when I was your age. And I sure as shit don’t blame you for filming yourself while having some spicy time with someone you care about.”
My dad balks. “Mads!”
“Oh, shush. We both know we have our own kinks, Milo,” she points out. “What I care about is whether or not you’re comfortable in your own skin, let alone comfortable with me and your dad and your siblings. What I care about is why you haven’t come around lately and why you felt like you couldn’t walk into your childhood home without an invitation.” Tears gather in her eyes, and she moves from her couch to mine. “Baby, you are my world. And I’m so sorry if you’ve ever felt like you could do anything to make me ashamed of you or make you feel like you aren’t our pride and joy.”
Her words are like a balm on an open wound, and I dig my nails into my palms to keep from bawling like a baby. I’m not sure it ever goes away. The desire to please your parents. To make them proud.
“Don’t get me wrong. I know you’re not perfect,” she continues, “just like how I’m not perfect, and your dad isn’t perfect, and your sister isn’t perfect, and your brother isn’t perfect, and”—she glances at Everett—“I’m sure you’re a great guy, but I know you’re not perfect, either.”
“Far from it,” he quips.
Her smile widens, and she bumps her shoulder with mine. “That’s the beauty of family, though. Especially ours. We like messy. We like mistakes. We like flaws and life lessons and Sunday brunches.” She grabs my hand and places it in her lap. “We like you , Raine Anders, and we’ve missed you more than you know. Now, if we could only convince you to open up to us so we could help you a bit, that’d be great.”
And just like that, I tell her. I tell both of them. I tell Everett and my mom and my dad everything. When I’m finished, they wrap me in a hug, kiss the top of my head, and promise it’s going to be okay. And for the first time in a long while, I really, truly believe they might be right.