41. Evie
Evie
*Do Not Disturb Activated*
What have I done?
I’m bombarded by equal parts relief and terror.
I’ve just shattered his childhood. And the worst part is, I don’t feel guilty. Someone who grew up in the same household as me finally knows that it wasn’t as magical as it appeared to everybody.
Suddenly, I don’t feel alone anymore. When I told Felicity and Carter, it didn’t alleviate the isolation I felt. If anything, it only intensified it. Felicity’s behavior toward me worsened, making it obvious that she deep down didn’t like me as a friend.
My safe person, the friend I texted and called every day, had turned on me, and the tension was palpable.
The difference between us became glaringly obvious. If she had a different opinion than mine, I’d respect hers, accept it, and move on. My opinions, however, were met with a bulldozer.
She would cut me down with words, silence and judge me over what felt like every move I made, but if she ever stepped out of line and you tried to reel her back in, you were the villain.
Suddenly, our mutual friends stopped texting me back.
Suddenly, my invites were redacted.
Suddenly, I was being used and discarded.
And all because I tried to voice a different opinion.
She could never be told she was wrong. Never be held accountable. Every word was like stepping on a landmine, acting as if you were throwing daggers but in reality she was the one holding the blade.
I believe all of us experience a Felicity in our lives. We all have friends that paste a smile on their faces but behind their backs are holding the poison they are slowly drip-feeding you.
Unfortunately, I had a Felicity at a time in my life where I was at my lowest.
She was shocked when I told her of course, supportive to the naked eye, but she changed after that.
Perhaps that’s when she went after Carter, but by then, he wasn’t really mine anymore.
The deleted text messages were already occurring, staff parties and dinners that had him stumbling home at four a.m. with no explanations as to why he was so late.
Cruel words cutting me down. Sneered glances at my naked body.
I didn’t choose to tell Carter. That choice was taken away from me. He was the one that triggered it all; he was there when I remembered.
And maybe that’s why he had, because in the cruelest of ways, day by day, he had slowly morphed into someone who resembled my abuser.
A mask of niceties in public, a monster in private.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, cocooned by Matteo’s warmth as he breaks around me, I realize I feel relieved after finally telling him. He is the first safe person I have shared this with.
And the stark difference between his reaction and those who were meant to support me is night and day.
Matteo pulls back, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, tears streaking down his beautiful golden-brown skin. He lifts his hands, the callouses on them gently scraping my cheeks as he cups my face like I’m a broken bird in need of mending.
“I am so sorry,” he says so earnestly it steals my breath. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” His voice cracks. “I am so sorry I didn’t save you.”
With his eyes, he speaks words he doesn’t know how to say, a million thoughts floating through his green depths, the ancient wisdom of the forest shining within them, and I believe every word.
People say they’re sorry all the time.
It’s a phrase that slips past our lips before we even give much thought as to why we’re saying it. You can say you’re sorry without truly meaning it, but I can see it across every inch of his face.
I can see it in the way his thick brows, the same color as his black hair furrows, the way his full bottom lip trembles, the way the muscle in his cut jaw ticks.
And he goes and solidifies it by affirming, “I would do anything to erase the past for you. I would move heaven and earth if it meant that never happened to you.”
My throat burns, a boulder rising, the ball of emotion everything I want to express but getting trapped. But I know I don’t need to voice it. Like him, he can read everything on my face.
Leaning forward, he places a featherlight kiss against my forehead, and the gentle touch makes the tears pooling in my eyes fall again.
Matteo keeps his hands on me as he asks again, death in his voice, “Who hurt you?”
My swallow is audible.
I squeeze his hands gently, pulling them from my face and holding them between us as I whisper, “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” he says brokenly. “It matters, Evie. What happened to you matters.”
“I’m not denying that. It’s just…”
I can’t tell him.
No one can know.
Look at what happened when I told my mom.
As if he’s inside my mind, his eyes widen.
A look of horror encompasses him, his voice breaking like shattered glass.
“Your mom knows, doesn’t she? That’s why you’ve been arguing with her.
” He blinks furiously. I don’t have to answer him.
The puzzle pieces of the passing weeks are coming into focus.
“You said that day that they knew. You were talking about this, weren’t you?
Wait, did you tell them after Thanksgiving? ”
Matteo rises quickly, anger thrumming through him, wafting off his body like he’s an inferno and singeing everything in his path.
I pour gasoline on his fire as I whisper, “Yes.”
Matteo stops his pacing, looking down at me as if I just told him he’s going to die tomorrow. I’ve never seen devastation on someone like now, have never seen someone so distraught.
He shakes his head. “How could they know and not do anything?” He pushes forward, kneeling in front of me again, his eyes flicking back and forth as he searches my face. “What did she say to you last night? What did your mom say?”
Licking my suddenly dry lips, I lower my gaze. “That’s not going to make you feel any better, Matteo.”
“Fuck feeling better. I want the truth, Evie, just the truth. You can trust me to manage my emotions, I promise.” He sucks in a deep breath before pleading, “Please, Dove. What did she say to hurt you so much?”
Taking a shuddering breath, I lean forward, placing my hand on his knee to steady him. He clasps it with both his hands like it’s his lifeline.
“She told me I’m breaking his heart with my accusation.”
The words hurt saying them just as badly as it hurt to hear them.
Every syllable, every letter is a dagger to my heart.
My mom has the whip and she’s striking me even after she’s long gone.
Shock ripples through Matteo. As if lightning came down to earth and struck him.
His body visibly flinches. I think he stops breathing entirely.
He seems to have to force himself out of his stupor to whisper, “She said that…and you told her…everything?”
I wet my dry lips once more and explain, “She’s the only one I’ve told who did this to me.”
Shaking his head back and forth as if he can erase what’s happening, Matteo’s hand lifts from mine and covers his mouth in bewilderment.
Pouring salt on his open wound, I add, “The phone call I had a few weeks ago with her…she told me she doesn’t believe me.” My voice begins to waver, tears pouring freely once more. “She believes him over me.”
“She’s a fucking fool,” he spits. “More than a fool, she’s cruel.”
The venom coating his words has me blinking away my tears.
It’s rage coursing through him now. It’s like he’s been thrown through the five stages of grief right before my eyes, which makes sense. When I remembered everything, everything changed.
Memories that had a rosy tint were stripped away to their natural color.
Relationships I adored were suddenly tainted.
Birthdays, camping trips, family events—he was there for fucking all of it.
It’s why I can’t tell Matteo.
He’s already holding on by a thread, and once he learns who did it, that semblance of control will crumble in an instant.
Sitting beside me now, he holds his head in his hands as he takes deep breaths. “I’m sorry, I have no idea if I’m reacting the right way. I just…” He clutches his chest as he turns to me. “My heart is breaking for you, Evie.”
Reaching a hand up, I slide my fingers through his curly tendrils. “I know,” I whisper.
“Please tell me, Dove. Please tell me who did this to you.”
A sad smile graces my lips. “Sorry, Matteo, but I can’t.”
He nods slowly, trying to blink away his confusion and disappointment, but the emotions linger. “I’ll respect your wishes. I won’t force you, not about this, but…you can’t keep this bottled inside anymore.”
My entire body turns to stone.
“No, baby,” he says, facing me fully. “I’m not going to force you to do anything, but I’m begging, please go to therapy.
Any type of therapy. This is killing you.
I have been trying to help you stay afloat but it’s drowning you from the inside out.
” Running a hand through his hair, he blows out a breath.
“I knew something more than what Carter did was going on. I knew it wasn’t just that. ”
I nod. “You’re right. Me finding him cheating was the best thing to ever happen to me. I was in such a daze mentally as I dealt with the memories and emotions that it was too much for me to bear fighting him, too.”
My heart grows heavy as I drop my gaze to my lap and fiddle with my nails.
“I don’t know why I stayed. I thought about leaving so many times but I’ve been so tired.
The nightmares don’t let me sleep and when I’m awake, it’s not like I’m given a reprieve from the memories.
Every fucking day, his face haunts me. I just couldn’t bear any more disruption to my life. ”
He places his hand on top of mine. “Don’t be hard on yourself. Not with this.”
“I feel like going back in time and shaking myself, though. Why did I think it was easier to stay with someone who was hurting me?”
And why did I think I deserved it?
Taking a steadying breath, I lift my eyes to his. “I’ll go to therapy, but on one condition.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You can’t tell Caleb.”
Matteo’s eyes widen, his hand in mine turning cold. “Dove…”
“No please,” I urge him. “I know what I’m asking is going to be hard, but I can’t…I can’t deal with him knowing right now. If he ever finds out, I want to be the one to tell him.”
I can see he’s fighting himself, can see the war I’ve started within his mind.
He confirms my thoughts as he says, “Every part of me wants to push back on this but I would be no better if I forced your hand. I can’t do that to you, not with this.”
Relief sweeps through me. Leaning forward, I lay my forehead against his chest and breathe just a little easier. “Thank you.”
“But just know,” he says roughly, his voice like ice, “Serena has lost all my respect and I’ve never despised someone like I do her.”
I’m not sure why but the words heal a sliver of my broken soul. That small girl within me, the one that was subjected to the torture, sighs in relief, cries tears of joy that someone is taking her side.
Clinging to Matteo, I squeeze his arm, sighing further as he wraps me in a tight embrace.
“I’m here, Dove, and I believe you. Every word.”
I’m glad someone finally does.