8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Faith
B y the time Monday rolls around, my knuckles are still bruised and throbbing as I shove them deep into my coat pockets and walk into my shift at the hospital.
Thankfully, the emergency room isn't too hectic this early in the week, but at this point, I'd give anything for a decent distraction from having to deal with a drunk Derek at a party I never wanted to be at in the first place.
Abby, my spunky redheaded work bestie, spots me when I head out of the locker room and makes a beeline to me, coffee thermos in hand.
"You look like hell," she says, linking her arm through mine as we make our way to the main floor.
"I feel like it," I agree, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. "I didn't have the best weekend."
"Lay it on me."
As we make our rounds and catch up on our notes, I fill her in on every single detail of what I've been calling the night from hell, the "bastard from the past," that I'm trying to forget.
"He's still blaming you for that-what an ass! Why not the guy in prison who actually caused the crash?" she asks, her voice full of shock.
"He's still grieving, clearly," I roll my eyes. "But at the same time, I'm not that much better. I still haven't forgiven the drunk driver, and it's getting harder for me to keep giving Derek grace when he's been so fucking cruel over these years."
"I'm shocked you gave him grace to begin with," Abby shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but if someone accuses me of being responsible for someone's death when I clearly wasn't, he'd be in a lot of pain right off the bat."
"Trust me, I've thought about it so many times. And I finally acted on it that night," I add with a slight grin.
"Wait, what? What did you do?" she asks, suddenly giddy for tea.
"For context, this was a masquerade party, so neither of us really knew who the other was," I start. "But we were flirting by the fire in the backyard, and eventually, we took ourselves to the side of the house to be out of view. It was that hot and heavy make out that clothes were about to come off. My mask fell off, and when he saw me, he got pissed, and that's being nice. I knew he was drunk at this point, so I shouldn't have been so shocked by the horrible things he said to me."
"Why do I feel like this is going to end in a throwdown?" Abby asks.
"Because it kind of did," I admit. "Not a huge one, just one that finally let me get everything off my chest."
"What did you do?"
"He walked away when he was done talking down to me like I was a dog. I could feel myself start to cry, but I thought fuck it, I'm not going to let him keep talking to me like that anymore, so I followed him."
"Now we're getting into it."
"I let him know how unfair it was that he's still blaming me for her death, that he gets to remember Chelsea with a good memory, with a kiss, while I have to remember her with her head bashed in and bloody. He finally shut the hell up, and when he didn't say anything back, I…"
"You what? Don't leave me hanging!"
"I knee him in the balls, and once he was doubled over, I punched him in the face," I say, holding up my still-bruised hand. "He didn't fight back. I just walked away after that."
"Is this the first time you ever stood up to him like that?"
"Yup," I nod. "Chelsea made me promise to look after him, but it's pretty hard to do when he hates my guts. Every time we've run into each other in the past, I never pushed the issue because I knew how badly he was hurting. But I don't know, the way he talked, it was just…"
"The straw that broke the camel's back?"
"Exactly," I sigh. "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't still blame myself after all these years."
"Faith," she puts her hand on my shoulder. "Nothing about that night was your fault. You needed to get away from a dangerous man, and you called your friends to come and get you, that's all."
"But we wouldn't have been on the road if it weren't for me," I say.
"Okay, then let's think about what would have happened if you stayed with your ex that night," she says. "He already shoved you into a door earlier that night, right, and attempted to choke you out?"
"Yeah," I nod, feeling embarrassed and ashamed I stayed with Ryan for so long.
"And he kept drinking and drinking, getting more and more rowdy, more aggressive, yes?"
"Yes."
"And if you weren't scared for your safety, you wouldn't have called someone to come get you. Because you and I both know Ryan would have put you in the hospital like he almost did the last time he got blackout drunk," she says, the truth hitting me harder than my fist hit Derek. "Am I wrong?"
"Sadly, no."
"It's not fair that Derek still blames you after all these years, but I'd bet that he still blames himself at the same time."
"Maybe," I shrug.
"The night of the party wasn't ideal or expected by you or Derek," she says. "Why don't you try to reach out to someone Derek knows so you can get a better sense of where he's at? Try to resolve things from there. It's been four years. It's time for both of you to move on from this."
"I'll see what I can do, and for the record, he carries a large load in those boxer shorts, LARGE." I grin as I mouth the word "large" to her and use my hand as a ruler as we walk away to treat a patient.