Chapter 16
Alondra
After I’ve finally started to calm down, I peel myself away from Jack, crawling out of his lap to sit next to him on the couch. Dylan is sitting on one of the bar stools, tapping on his phone screen.
“Alondra?” Jack asks when I reach for a tissue to clean up my face.
“Sorry, I think I got snot on your sweatshirt,” I mumble, taking my coat off and dumping it on the floor. I’ll deal with it later because not hanging up my coat right now is the least of my problems.
“It’s fine,” he says, turning to face me, but it’s not fine. It’s really gross, and I feel bad.
“Are you okay?” Dylan asks, and I feel raw and exposed.
I sniffle, looking down at my hands for a moment. “No, but I will be. Thanks for coming—both of you,” I clarify, glancing up at them to find Jack staring at me.
“Who did this to you?” he asks, frowning. Jack reaches for my face, and I hate that I flinch instinctively. A new piece of me fractures from the way he’s looking at me. I never wanted Jack to look at me like this.
“Who did what?”
Bradley didn’t touch me today. He only showed up to remind me I’m not free.
“Your lip is bleeding,” Dylan’s voice is gentle, and I grab another tissue to press it to my mouth, and sure enough, my lip is bleeding.
I wipe my cheeks and blow my nose again, trying to think of what I did to bust it. “I must have bitten my lip.”
“Al, you don’t have to lie,” Jack says, tugging his hands through his chestnut hair.
“I’m not. I’m fine,” I say, my voice breaking as I twist the tissue in my hands. “Thanks for coming, but you guys should go. It’s all good.”
I’m lying. I’m not good, but I have to put myself back together.
A low chuckle slips from Dylan as he shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re not fine, and it’s not all good. Maybe we can help, but we have to talk about whatever happened to know what to do.”
“He left. There’s nothing more to it than that,” I say, reaching back to twist my hair into a bun, needing to do something with my hands.
“Who left?” Jack asks, and I notice the dark spot on the collar of his sweatshirt where my lip must have bled onto him.
“Does it matter?” I ask, unable to help glancing at Dylan.
I don’t think I have a choice in the matter of telling Jack, but the way Dylan’s looking at me—whether he knows it or not—is why I don’t jump to tell people the truth about Bradley.
It’s the same way Macy looked at me when I told her the truth in the hospital.
Jack follows my gaze to Dylan and wipes his hands on his thighs, offering one to me. I stare at it, blinking before taking it. “Dylan, you good out here for a couple minutes?” he asks, turning to look at his friend while I stand, wobbling on shaky legs.
“Sure,” he agrees, and I wish I was standing on solid ground for this conversation. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here faster,” Dylan says, and I try to smile back, pulling my hand from Jack’s to walk toward my room, climbing on the bed as Jack follows behind me.
“It was Bradley, wasn’t it?” Jack asks, after shutting the door, confirming my suspicion that it was Bradley who approached him. I’ve been careful never to mention his name, and while Macy can’t keep a secret, she wouldn’t have told Jack about this.
“Yeah,” I admit, swallowing the acid creeping up my throat. “Bradley was waiting for me to get back.”
Jack tenses, bracing his arms on the back of his neck. “Fuck, Alondra. What would you have done if you weren’t on the phone with me?”
I don’t even want to consider it because I don’t know.
I close my eyes, shutting them tightly because I don’t think I can look at him when I say this.
“We were together for a year and a half. Bradley was sweet and charming, and he made me laugh.” It’s hard to remember the good when the bad would happen so fast. “The first time he put his hands on me was because I laughed at him. Bradley told me he didn’t like the way I spoke about one of my friends at the rink because he was a guy, and he asked me not to talk to him anymore, and I laughed.
He shoved me against the wall, and I couldn’t believe it.
I thought I imagined it, but then it happened again a few weeks later when we got back from hanging out with his friends.
Bradley shoved me from behind and told me not to act like such a slut around his friends. ”
I feel the bed dip next to me, but I can’t open my eyes.
I can’t see him look at me the same way Dylan was in the living room.
“He’d beg me for forgiveness, and no matter how sick and twisted it all was .
. . I loved him, so I let myself be manipulated.
I wanted to be loved so desperately I did whatever he wanted because I thought if I could make him happy, it’d be enough and he’d stop.
” I feel another tear slide past my defenses, and I reach up, wiping it away. “I was wrong.”
I wait for Jack to say something, but I’m terrified of what he’s going to say.
I know how stupid I was to become that girl, but everyone thinks it’d be so damn easy to leave until they’re in the situation being told no one else will ever love you, especially if even your dad doesn’t.
Bradley was so good at twisting everything until I was the one apologizing because if I hadn’t told him no, then it wouldn’t have happened.
When I wouldn’t apologize, he wouldn’t let me leave the room until I forgave him because who would believe me if I told them?
It’d be my word against his, and everyone believed he was the perfect and charming guy he led them to believe he was—the type of guy I swore he was at the beginning of our relationship.
I took pictures of the abuse because I think I needed to convince myself it was real, especially when Bradley made it seem impossible to think anyone would believe me.
I would have done anything to make him happy.
Now, it makes me nauseous to even look at the hidden folder of pictures, let alone do something with them. Regardless of the photographic evidence they provide, at the end of the day, I’m not sure they’re worth much. It’d still be my word against his.
“He thinks you’re his,” Jack says slowly.
“I know,” I say, finally looking up at him. He’s pulled his necklace out from underneath his shirt, twisting the pendant at the end.
We’re not over till I say we’re over.
“Bradley is why you stopped skating,” Jack says, putting the pieces together.
“I know how stupid it sound—” I’m cut off by how fast his head snaps in my direction, his crystal eyes shining like glass. His black eye sticks out like a sore thumb, and I can’t believe it was just yesterday we woke up on the couch.
“No, it’s not stupid. Don’t ever call it that,” he says, and being here with Jack—feeling safe and seen and heard—is exactly what gives me the courage to continue.
“The last time I skated before the morning you saw me was a little over a year ago. There was a local competition my coach entered me in to practice my programs, and my short was incredible. I didn’t pop a single jump, and I was so excited because my dad was supposed to be there, but then I realized Bradley wasn’t smiling.
He just tilted his head and looked at me like he was confused before asking me why it wasn’t enough for me to have him there.
He said it didn’t matter how well I did, my dad was never going to put me over hockey and his players.
” I pause, taking a second to catch my breath, swiping away the tears threatening to fall because it feels silly to shed any more tears over the past. “I tried to argue with him, insisting he was wrong because Dad promised—he promised he would be there. Then Bradley punched me in my ribs so hard I couldn’t breathe.
I knew better than to argue with him, but I still did it anyway, and it was for nothing because he was right. My dad never showed up.
“I think they were just bruised, but I couldn’t catch my breath, so I knew I had to drop out of the competition. Bradley was so apologetic afterward, saying if I tried to leave him, he’d hurt himself. I was in pain and afraid of the person who I thought loved me, and I quit that night.”
I hate that I quit skating because of Bradley. I hate it more than anything because I loved it, but at the time, I thought I craved the feeling of being loved more.
Jack hasn’t let go of the pendant, and I want to ask what it means to him.
He exhales a shaky breath, tucking it back under his shirt.
“He was wrong, Al. I-I wish I knew what to say, but all I can think about is how fucking wrong he was. I hate him for taking advantage of you, but even more than that . . .” Jack trails off, hanging his head as he grips the comforter in his fists.
“More than that?” I ask, and Jack shakes his head.
“He thinks of you like a possession. I have a very hard time believing he’ll let you go easily.”
I scoff, hating that I agree. “Bradley doesn’t have a choice in the matter. I’m not his. I’m not anyone’s property.”
Jack leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Does your dad know?”
I never told my parents. The night Bradley and I broke up, he pushed me down the stairs outside his house.
I hit my head on the railing, but the way I landed caused my arm to twist underneath me, breaking it along with a few of my ribs.
I called Macy, and she came to get me, only when she got there, I was passed out in the snow.
She called my parents on the way to the emergency room, and they believed me when I told them I slipped and fell down the stairs because I was upset we’d broken up.
It was icy, so it was believable. They never questioned it.
“No.”
“What did he want?” Jack asks.
“For me to stay away from you. I guess he’s threatened by you.” Way more than just threatened if he was willing to come here to tell me himself. “Why didn’t you tell me he tracked you down a few weeks ago?”
“Honestly?” he asks, and I nod. “I was afraid you’d run from me again if I pushed you for answers you weren’t ready to give me. Now I’m starting to think I should have listened when you told me to stay away the first time. I don’t want to be the reason he’s making you feel small and afraid.”
I can’t blame Jack for being afraid of me running.
I shiver, grabbing a pillow to hug to my chest. “I don’t care.
If it’s not you he’s threatened by, it’ll be someone else.
You’re my friend, Jack. I like being your friend, but Bradley’s influenced enough of my decisions, so I mean it when I say I don’t care. He doesn’t get to control me anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I know exactly how Bradley is.”
Fuck, Bradley knows where I live.
Jack stands, rolling his shoulders, but I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to help relieve the tension coiled in him. “You hung up the phone, Al. Don’t ever do that again, okay?” God, I’m so glad he came. I know Jack didn’t have to, but he did. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. He’s gone. Thank you for coming.” I quickly check my phone, noting the time. I sniffle, wiping my nose on my sleeve. “Don’t you guys have to get ready for your game soon?”
“Fuck,” Jack swears, pulling out his phone before looking at me with his intense gaze. A part of me feels relieved that he knows about Bradley, but what I appreciate most is he’s not looking at me any differently. “Get your stuff, you’re not staying here.”
“And go where? Jack, this is where I live.”
His face softens, and his hand lifts to rub the top of his shirt, subconsciously finding comfort in whatever meaning lies behind the silver he wears around his neck.
“I know you don’t want to let him control you, so if it makes you feel better, do it for me.
Please, stay at my place. It’d make me feel better about leaving you alone, and Dylan already told Ellie not to come here. We’ll figure it all out later.”
“I won’t hide from him this time,” I insist, and maybe it makes me stupid.
Jack moves to kneel in front of me, reaching to pull the pillow out of my hands.
“I’m not asking you to hide, Alondra. I’m asking you to give me a little time to figure this all out because I won’t be able to focus on hockey tonight if the only thing I can think about is whether you’re safe or not. ”
I grip his hands before he can pull them away to give me space. “Okay,” I whisper, dipping my chin in agreement, and he breathes out a sigh.
“I’ve got you,” Jack says, and I lurch forward without a second thought to wrap my arms around him. He folds me into his chest, resting his head against mine as I relax in the safety of Jack’s arms.
“Thank you.”
I know I was mad at Macy earlier when I told her she pushed me into kissing Jack, but really, I should be thanking her because who knows where I’d be if she hadn’t.